#which i want to and am thankful i get to but it still requires Effort i barely have 🤘😔

[naivety]

have to go pick up a washing machine tomorrow a coworker snagged for $75 [!] and lug it all the way upstairs [....] to hook up before somehow draining the old one [...] because it broke mid-cycle washing sheets not once but twice thrown up on by cat [...] and we can't even get it to drain [....] 🙏 and hopefully finish putting together a 2 weeks late little birthday gift box for my sibling because i literally forgot until the night before and wanted to die. and get my axle looked at cause it might be bent. day off ❤️

[littlestpersimmon]

Am caught in a death spiral my lieges. I don't feel entitled to anyone's time, effort or resources but I feel so beat down. I am disabled, I am working so much I genuinely developed a hunched back. I am alone responsible for my autistic sister, her parentified sibling, and my two parents who are disabled with extremely limited movement. I have three jobs. I can't ask for help on twitter because people I work for follow me there. My work requires me to draw every day, without a day off, ever. I have a "morality clause" which means if I or the author I work with are deemed to be acting in any way the company thinks inappropriate, we are immediately fired and would have to return every single cent we have made. I feel at my wits end. My employers are american- but I am not. I live in the global south- government assistance in the Philippines is *nonexistent*

Last week I asked for help to pay for electricity. The other week I asked for help with my sister who had to be rushed to the ER.

I doxxed myself and posted medical info to this blog, so many strangers know my address, my legal name, everything just for me to be able to seek mutual aid- Wallah I do not want to be this person, but if anyone could please, pick up a print from my inprnt, or subscribe to my patreon, I already have 300+ drawings up there and I upload thrice to four times a month, or if you could send direct tips it would make a world's difference. I will try to open commissions next week but as the world is being plunged into wherever it is we are headed, it's getting harder and harder to get clients.

Currently myself dealing with housing insecurity- we only have a year or two to fix our traditional filipino house as it is falling apart due to the philippine storms and termites- *please* help me and my disabled family of three. I feel I am rambling now bc there's so much on my mind, on my plate, I've asked friends and my partner for help, my sister and my cousins and my friends are all I have. My mom's side of the family cannot help as they are all extremely poor themselves, and my paternal side of the family have emotionally abused me and have members that committed routine csa on me. I do not take any of the help I receive here for granted, and I'm sorry. Reblogs are off as I am asking for help from followers as I feel very ashamed / embarrassed/ humiliated to still be stuck in this dark place . Sorry and thank you again

Inprnt is having a sale rn, everything is like at 40% off!

And my tipping jars:

Sorry and thank you again. If you can't donate or purchase its OK, just please please please include me in your prayers, make mi shebeirach for my health so I csn continue to work, or any prayers at all for me. Thank you

[nysus-temple]

Uuuuhhh can I save this for a thesis? Because holy shit.

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. It's true that Psyche becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too (depending on versions). But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway                                                of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.                      She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat until they get turned back. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived. Funny as that's what he tends to do.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

This is also where I think there might be interpretation differences. A lot of folks say "She had the info he needed to go home." and she did. BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT. She actually gives advice of her own volition it seems!

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground. 

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. ����

[markscherz]

Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

[krirebr]

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done. 

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort. 

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could. 

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something. 

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged. 

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam. 

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite. 

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs. 

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?” 

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.” 

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.” 

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.” 

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him. 

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet. 

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking. 

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown. 

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused. 

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back. 

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.” 

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess. 

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly. 

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.” 

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island. 

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back. 

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held. 

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. 

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room. 

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?” 

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing. 

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it. 

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.” 

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it. 

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here. 

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own. 

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. 

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore.  You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do. 

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room. 

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom. 

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided. 

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @citronbun @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle @lokislady82 @thedazzlingburglar @23skidoosteven @she-wolf09231982 @arbesa-mind @samfreakingwinchester @blackhawkfanatic @emerald-writes @identity2212 @have-another-doughnut @patzammit

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[frownyalfred]

i LOVED the new eye in the sky chap! of course, you have the soul-crushing rage-inducing angst pile on bruce's end, but i also really appreciated the duke-hal moment; he's so level-headed about the situation that you don't really build up too much stress over him, but then you brought in a different kind of heartbreak with the realization that he's been in this position enough times to know that the least provoking thing he can do is to do nothing at all.

and the FUTURESPEAKING jesus CHRIST — it’s a different type, but your time manipulation fuckery is almost equally as hard to wrap your head around as the stuff in tenet (the nolan movie), it's genuinely so impressive. (sorry, i'm just gonna run my mouth here for a minute, but the idea really caught me and now i Have to share all my thoughts just to get them out of my brain, though i hope that you'll be generous enough to weigh in as well😅) i'd imagine that there's actually relatively very few people, in-universe, who can do this so that duke hears it correctly, because you have to be able to focus your mind and put enough intent into the idea that you're about to say something that it "registers" as the imminent future—which means that you have to, at the same time, be completely repressing your knowledge that you're NOT going to actually vocalize whatever it is, because that intention would obviously counteract the first. and THEN, to make what's already quite a tough mental exercise even more impressive, bruce is: thinking of a futurespeak-response, putting enough focus/intent behind it for that future to crystallize (and again, it's a double-headed task, because of the repression required as well), and then cutting that off in order to think of and say something completely different, *all in about just the same amount of time a normal person would take to respond naturally in a conversation.* (also, slightly less mind-boggling but still quite impressive to me and i want to give him his props: duke, in that last bit at the end at least, is maintaining both his awareness in the present and the mental effort of using his powers to see the future, in order to hear the exact same voice say two different things at the same time, and is able to not only maintain the background effort needed to hear both things, but is taking in enough detail to see/hear/notice "both" bruces' tone and body language. ...i mean, maybe that's not so impressive to people without auditory processing issues lmao, but as someone who's constantly asking people to repeat themselves, or really having to focus on the sounds when somebody's speaking to me, even in one-on-one conversations, it certainly impressed me!)

anyways, yeah, this just inspired a lot of interesting trains of thought for me and i wanted to share lol. your fics are always such great reads, can't wait for your next update! Hope you're well💜

Thank you so much!!!! You absolutely nailed what I was trying to get at with Duke’s powers. I really didn’t want over explain it and have people roll their eyes, but I also didn’t want to leave readers mystified as to what he was doing.

Duke and Bruce are supremely well matched in this fic for that reason among many others — Bruce has a freaky brain and understands time/intention well enough to be able to think, speak, and re-speak that quickly.

He can compartmentalize like no one else. I am not obviously that smart, but the way I thought about it was playing competing melodies on the piano with two different hands - once you find the rhythm, the way they work off each other, you can maintain both easily. Where they gap, where they overlap, where they compete for your attention.

Duke is good at glimpsing a few seconds forward/back but definitely not for long periods. Like Bruce said, he’s going to need help to train that and avoid burning himself out! Luckily he’s just listening and not double speaking like Bruce is.

Someone on ao3 left me this in the comment section and they’re so right lol:

I feel bad for Hal, just a little, just like Duke does. He was tortured by Kal essentially, and where he does want to hurt Bruce (a lot) there are still some lines he won’t cross. I don’t know if that makes him redeemable or just not entirely beyond redemption. I think Bruce seems to know this too — teasing him with that moral code he used to hold so tightly to.

It was definitely a fun space to play around in! Writing this fic is difficult for me (agh worldbuilding) but whenever I try I’m pleasantly surprised by how much fun I have. Thank you so much for reading!!

[aychama]

I'm sorry if this is too personal but did you had/have any art trauma caused by art teachers in school? And by trauma I mean some aversion to try learning one thing, because art teacher was just a dick. I have something like that with shading and it still holds after 6 years as a adult and I want to break it, but I cannot force myself to try it again and this holds my proggres as a ,,artist" and that's make me smad. I'm sorry once again if this is too personal or too hard to answer

Yup I did! Tho idk if I can call it "trauma" tbh

Oop I kinda went on a rant sorry lol

I studied ceramics in uni but I did have nude art classes and classes that required detailed art projects.

Although most of my uni time was wasted thanks to covid, I did get harrassed by a few of my classmates and my teacher in my last year.

My classmate had said that my art level wasnt good enough to be in this uni and my teacher yelled at me in the middle of class for like a week or two because I refused his ideas for my projects (he had given me the ok on the design before he changed his mind 180 and started pointing and laughing at me with my classmates while i worked on my ceramic project)

I eventually had to give up resisting because I wanted to pass the class and let him do whatever he wanted. (He legit just put clay on top of my design, smoothed it out and that was it in fact here is the design he gave me the ok to, the middle of my project and the way he stopped me)

After this I basicly didnt do anything more for his class, minimum effort. My days in Uni weren't all bad thank god but I was extremely unmotivated.

After I graduated, I didnt really draw or create much until my love for drawing rekindled with Cult of The Lamb! I love this game and Narilamb too much lmao-

But as for something similar to your experience I would say that I used to play the bass and electro guitar in highschool and we had to perform one day which I chickened out from that resulted in the music teacher getting angry at me. I dont play the guitar anymore :/ But my love for music hasnt died and I am using my love for art diffrently!

I would say that even if certain experiences deviates you from some topics, branches of art or people, dont let it kill your whimsy and ideas. You can always try out diffrent things to find something fun like diffrent styles of drawing, shading or no shading, diffrent mediums like digital or traditional, new or old techniques, weird colors or designs. You can always try out whats popular to see if you like it or not as well. You can also consume a lot of art media, educational or entertainment.

There is so many creative things you can try out, you dont have to be stuck on the past and that one shading idea your teacher tried to teach you ır tried to force onto you. I think you can go back to it after trying out many diffrent things to see if it was the technique or the teacher that ruined it for you.

If it was the technique, there are many MANY diffrent ones that you can enjoy!

If it was the teacher, Im not a therapist so idk what would be the right thing to say but healing takes time, sometimes the things people say never leaves you and sometimes you forget it 5 minutes later. You are a person with the ability to change, learn and grow. The only thing that is in your way is your 'will'. If you are willing to change, even if takes a long time, you will change! But if you dont want to, then no one can force you.

Healing and moving on is hard but not impossible. Dont let an asshole teacher get in the way of your growth ❤️

[neetily]

—follower thank you event !!

in an effort to thank you all and appreciate all of the love, support, and kindness you have all shown me over the many months i've known you, especially when following me on this new blog too, i've decided to open up a matchup event!

— what is a matchup? basically, you send me some information (you can see which i need further down) and depending on what you send me, i will match you up like your very own personal cupid to a character i think fits you most from the designated fandoms! i've also included some extra information and goodies to make it a little more fun hehe...

— below, you will find all the information you may require to take part in this event! please read through it carefully and thoroughly, as anyone who does not abide by these rules will have their entry deleted immediately.

— the event will run for three days, or until all of the slots are taken.

20/20 slots taken

— RULES

matchups are being done for Stardew Valley, Degrees of Lewdity, and Fields of Mistria only.

you must include your age in bio.

you must send me a message off anon so that i can keep track of who sends what, you will, however, still remain anonymous! i will post your matchup anonymously in a separate post, and then answer your ask privately with a link to it to let you know that i finished it up!

you must be following me, as this is an event made for my followers! new followers are welcome, of course.

you can send in a max of 1 messages and in that one message you can ask for a max of 2 fandoms to count for 2 entries during the event duration, any extra entries will be subsequently deleted. i will then provide up to 2 drabbles per fandom requested for!

my limits still very much apply to this event, jsyk!

are you a mutual? then this rule is for you! you guys do not count when it comes to taking up slots, but you can still only send a max of 2 fandoms! just don't worry if all the slots are taken up and you didn't get a chance to take part, you guys can always take part <3

— MATCHUP INFORMATION

here is all the information you should/could add to your entry! you can, of course, add more or less. but the more you add then the better/more accurate your matchup will be!

a brief personality description

a brief description of your appearance (such as if you wear glasses, prefer skirts, always have your hair tied up. please do not be too specific and/or extensive)

zodiac sign/MBTI

your ideal type

your favourite trope (one)

your favourite kink (one)

your favourite season

preferred terms of endearment

preferred genitalia (otherwise, i will default to none and try to be as nondescript as possible)

any likes/dislikes

hobbies

your love language

who you want to top/bottom

anything else you wish to mention!

in addition to the above, information i absolutely require is as follows;

do you prefer sweet (fluff) or spicy (smut) tastes?

what is your favourite date spot/event?

which fandom would you like to be matched up in?

which character gender would you like to be matched up with?

when you are alone, do you prefer to... listen to music, text your friends, or do something creative?

— given the information you provide me, i will find someone suitable for you that fits your parameters and write about why i think so, as well as attaching a little babble/drabble to the end exploring your relationship a bit further!

— example entry 1: hi! im an outspoken extrovert type, and my star sign is leo! i really love classical romance stories, and tend to find it difficult to stop yapping. my friends say that i am funny, kind, and a perfectionist! i like being called "love", and i'd prefer if you'd use "cunt" when referencing genitalia. i love sweet treats and the colour blue, and my favourite hobby is ice skating. my ideal date would be at an amusement park, and i love texting my friends! please could you match me up with a male from DOL? thank you!

— example entry 2: hello there! i'd describe myself as shy, unsure, but kind! my love language is physical touch, and i love painting! when it comes to tropes, my favourite is "childhood best friends". and as for kinks, choking is my favourite! i enjoy being called degrading names, and summer is my favourite season, so i'd love if you included that! please could you also include the reader wearing glasses for me? as for your required information, i prefer spicy, a beach setting is perfect for a date, i'd like to request from any two fandom you choose, and either gender is fine! also, i prefer listening to music when i'm alone, thank you!

or something like that, yknow? just be sure to include brief descriptions and the required info and we're good!

disclaimer: if you disagree or otherwise dislike who i have picked for your matchup, please don't get mad at me lmao... this is all just silly fun, it doesn't mean anything <3 and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle II

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part II :: part lll :: ao3

a/n: thank you to everyone who showed me some love for the first chapter!! i am very very smitten (and quite nervous). let's see how all of this goes from larissa's point of view. there are some inconsistencies with canon events (not to mention that larissa is alive, which she very much is in canon as well, we all know that)

warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, implied masturbation, angst, insecurity, guilt – you get the vibes

chapter word count: 3.7k

Part II: she puts the weights in my heart

It was a blissful evening, but Larissa’s inner state was nowhere near bliss. Nevermore was finally back on track after the horrible Hyde situation, yet Larissa lagged behind in adjusting to the new reality. It wouldn’t be this hard if she didn’t spend two weeks in hospital after being poisoned by Laurel Gates – she never went on vacation, she never took additional days off, and being away from her principal duties certainly slowed her down. Especially when she absolutely hated being patronised by doctors and nurses who didn’t want to discharge her from hospital no matter how many times she snarled and threw tantrums about how extremely important it was for her to get back to work. Even after finally nagging her way out earlier than a proper healing process required, Larissa still couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It felt as though all of her efforts had reset to zero and she had to start everything all over again – negotiate with the new Mayor, establish a reverent relationship with the normie population and mitigate the consequences of Hyde attack among students. Her mind was still weak after she was nearly lying on her deathbed, her heart was still heavy knowing what her students had been through. The only thing that stayed the same even after the incident was her relationship with you, and she would hate to admit that it only added to her problems. She was constantly followed by guilt, all-consuming and unmerciful. 

Larissa didn’t like to feel like a bad person. Life had taught her that if she wanted to achieve something, being her charming and ambitious self wasn’t enough – she had to be clever and sly, sometimes even manipulative and ruthless. She had good intentions, but the only language the world around her could understand was a language of fierceness. Larissa could always come up with an excuse for her problematic actions when it came to protecting the school, but she could never come up with an excuse for being dishonest towards you. 

Some of the students gathered in the yard after the classes were over, sitting in small groups and enjoying one of the last warm days of September. Larissa wished to return to her school days and be as carefree as they were in that moment, laughing and gossiping and perhaps worrying about their first love. A small smile crawled on her face as she looked out of the window – students seemed to adjust after what had happened more successfully than their Principal did, but this fact made Larissa hopeful that she would catch on soon. One detail, however, was still out of place. A tormenting reminder of Hyde attack, the destroyed tower that was off limits for students and hurt the Principal’s eyes like a grain of sand. Perhaps the upcoming renovation could finally calm her heart. She stepped away from the window to return to her chair and looked at the clock – her last meeting of the day was supposed to start five minutes ago. As soon as she decided to check if there were any new messages from you and reached out for her phone, she heard a confident knock on her door. Larissa moved her chair closer to the table and opened her laptop while inviting whoever was waiting for her response with a light “Come in!”. Deep down Larissa was glad that the architect got there a little late, she really needed those extra five minutes of solitude to catch a breath after a rather tense meeting with the new Mayor. 

To catch a breath, that was immediately stolen away from her when you walked in. 

At first, Larissa thought she was hallucinating. Her mind was undoubtedly playing games with her, she just had to blink the mirage away. But you were still there even after the woman closed and opened her eyes a few times, and your lovely voice was like a slap on her face – it’s real, it’s real, you are real and you are here.

“Terribly sorry I’m late. I had to stop for petrol,” you murmured, closing the door behind you. 

Larissa couldn’t move. You never told her that you were an architect, you never told her what your new project was about, you never told her that you knew anything about reconstruction. You just entered her office like a deadly storm, and Larissa had to act professional somehow. It felt as though she was doused with ice cold water, as though she was blinded and deafened, as though she fell down in her sleep and woke up in cold sweat. She couldn’t feel her own breathing, she wasn’t aware of her surroundings anymore. However what felt like an eternity of catatonia lasted only for a split second, and Larissa’s stupor was followed by a sheer panic. You swiftly approached her desk and extended your hand, introducing yourself, and suddenly Larissa was very aware of it all – of how rapidly her heart was beating, of how hot her cheeks grew, of how painfully her stomach flipped when she saw your oblivious smile and felt the softness of your hand as she met it with her own, moving on autopilot. All the formal interactions she practised every day became entirely foreign concepts to her, and she kept rudely staring at you, at a loss for words.

The circle of lies and secrets she had created backfired on her with its full force, leaving her trapped with you in the same room. When you entered Larissa’s office, she already knew what your name was. When you shook her hand, she already knew what that hand did just a couple of nights before, teasing your body on camera for her. When you spoke, she already knew how that voice sounded when you were on edge. She already knew your every curve, your dirty fantasies and what you were capable of for her – no, for Lydia. Every little detail of you was shared with non-existent Lydia, but it was Larissa who always was on the receiving end. Larissa knew, Larissa knew everything, she wasn’t supposed to be the one who knew it, but she couldn’t run away from it.

You pursed your lips and shyly touched the backrest of a chair that stood in front of Larissa’s desk, and it alerted the woman that she still didn’t invite you to sit down. “Ah, yes, yes, please, take a seat. I am sorry, it’s been a rough day,” she uttered, looking around her desk in search of something to hold on to. She found a pen and clutched it in her hand as she listened to the rustle of you pulling out the chair and sitting across from her. 

“It’s alright, I won’t keep you long. For the first meeting at least,” you gave her a small smile, and Larissa’s whole being buzzed from anxiety, her nerves completely destroying her professional composure. “Our manager has already drawn up a contract, I just need you to read through it, check if everything’s right, and sign it. In two copies,” you reached in your bag and pulled out a thin folder with documents, “one stays with you, one stays with me.” You handed Larissa the papers and she immediately busied herself reading through them to avoid making eye contact with you. 

Words seemed to melt together, and Larissa couldn’t focus on the content of the contract for the life of her. She knew that you were patiently watching her, presumably seeing her struggle to read a few pages. Her mind drifted away once again, agitated that at any moment you could recognise in her someone who sent you dirty messages and kept you in the dark about her real personality. Larissa scanned through the contract, not paying attention to the formalities, because her brain was occupied with calming her heart down. You couldn’t possibly know that Larissa was Lydia, or the other way around, you couldn’t possibly recognise her, because she never sent you pictures of her face. The only bits she’d shared were her legs and her- her hands… Could you recognise her hands? Her manicure? Larissa’s mind raced as she hesitated for a second before taking a look at you to see you scrolling through your phone. She carefully dropped the pen and brought her hands on her lap to shift her nail colour to something, anything else. A second later she grabbed the pen again and saw that her nails got a different shape and were painted silver. It wasn’t a bad choice, Larissa thought, but it was a very unusual one. And you wouldn’t even notice the insignificant change, would you? She felt ridiculous for caring about such a small detail, but it calmed her nerves a tiniest bit nonetheless. 

Larissa looked through the contract again, and she was glad that she found it in her to do so, because she noticed a mistake, “It doesn’t say anything about the installation of a new heating system,” she noted, looking up at you. 

You put your phone away and frowned, “Did you mention it while talking to our manager?”

“I… I suppose I forgot. Can we add it to the list though? The tower was the only part of Nevermore that never got decent heating, and we always had to cancel lessons in the observatory during cold seasons.” Larissa internally winced at how unusually weak her voice sounded.

“Of course. I will notify our manager and bring you a new contract. It’s a good thing you noticed, usually clients don’t pay much attention,” you said lightly. 

“I hope it won’t be a bother, it’s easy to forget things while looking after hundreds of teenagers at once,” Larissa handed you the papers back.

“No, no, it’s alright. I must admit, I never realised that being a principal might be this stressful. Not saying that it’s easy, but… just never really thought about it.” You gave Larissa an awkward smile. It was precious to her. “I was planning on seeing the tower and taking a few pictures. And maybe there will be something else you remember about?”

“Oh, right, right. I’ll lead the way.” Larissa stood up, nervously smoothing the fabric of her skirt. 

The meeting proceeded in the school yard, Larissa watched as you carefully observed the tower ruins and took pictures from every possible angle. Ironically, Larissa was glad that she finally wasn’t the centre of your attention.

“The top part is completely destroyed,” you mumbled to yourself softly, craning your neck to look up at the damage that was done to the part of the building, “I cannot even imagine what could have caused it, especially in a school. It couldn’t have been students, could it?” You turned to look at Larissa who stood at a discreet distance. 

“Well, I suppose it could. But it wasn’t their fault. It’s… hard to explain.” Larissa was surprised to see that you probably didn’t know what exactly was happening at Nevermore just a few months ago. After a small pause, she asked, “Is it necessary to completely take down what’s left?”

“If you’d prefer to leave the remaining parts, I can work around it. We’ll just have to reconstruct the top…” you were focused on the ruins and Larissa couldn’t help but think how enticing you looked while doing your job. Now that the two of you were outside it was much easier to breathe, and Larissa could freely admire your form – not that she didn’t have enough opportunities to admire it before. Oh, and the way your beauty was even more outstanding in real life. You were dressed for work, and for Larissa, a woman who deeply valued her appearance in the office, it was the most delightful, the most attractive sight to see. Your little smiles were much brighter in person, your hair looked soft and your shape was unsurprisingly smaller compared to Larissa’s. It made her want to cover you with her body and hide you in her arms. Tearing away from inappropriate thoughts, she internally cursed herself and tried to pay attention to your words. “It seems like a pretty solid construction, It could have stood for centuries,” you mused, touching one of the old mossy bricks. “But we’ll find the materials to blend in beautifully,” stepping away from the tower wall, you approached Larissa. “I’ll have the first renders ready for our next meeting and we can discuss anything you would like to add or get rid of.”

“Very well,” Larissa breathed out, not expecting you to come this close to her. In fact, she was only being dramatic – you maintained a professional distance. “I… I look forward to it,” she forced a smile that barely touched her lips.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Once you left, Larissa felt anxious all over again. She realised it was only a matter of time before you wrote to Lydia, and how could she continue all of this, knowing full well that she would have to see you every week and work with you on the renovation? How could she pretend to be just a mere stranger, a put-together principal and continue to secretly order you around, to send you filthy messages and not feel like shit about it? Guilt gnawed at her, it made her nervously pace her office, completely unable to finish her work for the day. Perhaps her lies had to come to a halt, and that meeting just marked the beginning of the end. 

Larissa never thought that the first conversation she’d shared with you would lead her into this kind of relationship. She never tried shopping for antiques online, she didn't even bother to properly fill out her profile information on the reselling site – she just wanted a peculiar-looking record player, but you forgot to take the advertisement down after selling it. It was a pity, she really liked that old little thing, but in the end she was blessed – or rather cursed – with something much more interesting. Next thing Larissa knew, both of you engaged in discussing music and, gradually, you started sharing some innocent facts about your life. Larissa thought it was fun – she hadn't had a conversation about something not related to her job in ages. Then, you started texting her more frequently and Larissa couldn’t help but tease you for it. You seemed to like her teasing tone and started playing along. It made her more confident and bolder with her words – she would never admit it, but sometimes she blushed at her own messages; it wasn’t because she was shy, it was because of the image in her head, the fantasy of having you just the way Larissa wanted. What was worse, she smiled like she was young and carefree again whenever she got your response. With you she felt more at ease exploring this passionate and provoking side of her, feeling a tad smug when you reacted to her ambiguous messages in the most adorable way. It aroused a thrill within her, a deep interest and longing for more. 

However she was awfully scared of bringing this into real life, knowing that she had accidentally set the bar too high, and that you would surely be disappointed to learn that behind those messages was a woman who was overconsumed with her work and actually quite dull as a person – that was what Larissa thought of herself. After a week of your rapidly developing relationship, you texted her, i just realised i never got your name! – and Larissa didn’t know why she lied. It was a good idea at the time, she assumed that sooner or later you would become bored even of this bolder version of her, and giving you her actual name wouldn’t change anything. To her surprise and secret delight, it wasn’t the case. You accepted everything she offered you and didn’t ask uncomfortable questions. Just once, though, you suggested meeting somewhere for dinner, and Larissa politely refused, saying that she wouldn’t have the time for it in the foreseeable future. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but Larissa knew that if she wasn’t such a coward, she would have found all the time in the world to see you. 

Being in love was unhealthy for Larissa. It was painful and distracting from her work. It made her dizzy and nauseous, certain that the object of her infatuation would never reciprocate her feelings. It happened once, twice, it happened enough times to make her hopeless and stern – her heart couldn’t take it anymore. Deep down she always craved intimacy and touch, but even occasional one-night stands made her stumble and sense an unpleasant cramp in her stomach once they were over. Lydia was a clever barrier that, Larissa hoped, would catch her when she would fall again. She wasn’t getting too close, she didn’t allow herself to get attached, because Larissa’s heart was shielded by a mysterious and more confident image of a different woman. She was foolish thinking that this could ever work.

The messages you sent her had become a part of Larissa’s daily routine, and initially innocent and friendly conversations inevitably escalated into sexting. On some days, both of you exchanged only text messages, but more often you sent her nudes which made Larissa immensely aroused. Sometimes she would sit in her office, curtains drawn and door locked, basking in the warmth of the fireplace, drinking wine and waiting for you to finish recording your video. She’d watch you shaking and squirming and accidentally moaning Lydia’s name instead of the mistress title. It didn’t happen often, but when it did… Oh, how she wished to be Lydia. To be the woman you were so close to, whom you trusted with everything, whom you cared for. How she wished that she could give you what your kind soul deserved – honesty. A minor lie about her name evolved into an entire net of secrets. Larissa embellished her image, drifting away from reality. She gave all the credit to Lydia, who was fun and enticing, who deserved to be loved and wasn’t afraid of her fantasies – in Larissa's head Lydia was everything that she wasn’t. In Larissa's head her real self was the one who was only rejected and forgotten, whose beauty wilted years ago and whose charm was only suitable for overpowering her business associates. She didn’t even give herself a chance to be proven otherwise. 

The darkness finally settled around Nevermore, cold air whistling through the windows all over the dim empty halls of the school. Students were back to their dorms and Larissa observed the empty yard, tense and restless. She tried to breathe deeply – it didn’t help. Just as she’d expected, you sent her a picture a couple of hours after the meeting. You were laying on your side in pretty light pink lingerie, inviting and painfully lovely, what can i do for you tonight, mistress? 

Normally, Larissa would open the messenger and tell you all the things she wanted to do with you. She would order you to be a good girl for her and send her a video of you touching yourself – making it all nice and pretty, exposing your flushed skin and releasing heavenly sounds. She would bring herself to the edge, groaning under her breath and revelling in the power she had over you. Then, she would praise you and tease you further, just to bring you the lightest mood for the night. Maybe she would even send you a picture in return, but it was a rare occasion, when Larissa was too tipsy to overthink it. This time she couldn’t do anything. She didn’t open the messenger – she looked through the notification from her lock screen – she didn’t tell you how much she wanted to see you pleasuring yourself for her. She chose to ignore you. And it made her feel absolutely horrible for the rest of the night. There were dozens of unanswered emails on her work laptop, and after it became unbearable to be alone with her feelings, she busied herself with answering them in a rather harsh tone, venting her spleen at whoever needed something from her. Her head ached. Her heart squeezed inside her chest. She was angry at herself, fearful and bursting with guilt from knowing that her little game had to come to an end and there was no place for Lydia anymore. From knowing that it was going to hurt you. 

A few hours later she received a new message from you, are you still at work?

She could sense your worried tone through her screen. It wasn’t usual for Larissa to leave your messages unanswered until morning. Only once, when she was in hospital, was it taking her too long to reply. She was physically unable to respond to your messages, though she explained it to you in advance, saying that she got terribly ill, but her recovery went smoothly. It left no room for unneeded concern on your part, you just hoped that Lydia would be fine.

This time, however, there was no adequate explanation. Larissa still didn’t answer. She tried to go to sleep at her usual time but ended up staring in the darkness, guilty, awfully guilty. If her exhaustion hadn’t finally forced her to fall asleep, she would have seen your message in the dead of night, lydia, is everything alright? – you couldn’t sleep again, but this time Larissa was the one to blame. 

She saw your message in the morning but didn’t reply. Her heart was heavy the whole day, and she drowned out the pain with more work; insufferable meetings, Wednesday’s outbursts and ignorant parents. Larissa would never say that she hated her job no matter how difficult it was – she didn’t tire easily, but her soul was worn out. That was why she never let herself be swallowed by feelings that were even remotely close to those of romantic love and affection before. That was why making an exception for you was a terrible mistake. She received a few more messages from you during the day and hid her phone in the desk drawer to avoid seeing them. Larissa had always known that sooner or later Lydia would have to part ways with you – she couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. It was a necessary sacrifice for her own peace of mind, and the two of you got business to do, after all. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

💌: @scream-queenlover @kimiinou @gwendolinechristieiscute @weemssapphic @imprincipalweemspet @gwenslucifer @im-a-carnivorous-plant @evanivox @ctrlamira

(tell me if you want to be added to the taglist <3)

[tojixz]

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Reader

Notes: First of all I want to thank you for all the affection! Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, I'm so happy!!! 😭💞💞 And also, I wasn't so happy with this part, I feel like it got kinda shitty, so I'm sorry if it's bad 🥲

Summary: Tuk finally comes into the family, lots of love and affection. I am horrible with summaries????

Warnings: TW!! Labor pain, a lot of anguish on mommy's part, Sully family worried.

Word Count: 3k

Skxawng (n) - Idiot

Sa'nok (n) - Mom Tìyawn (n) - Love

Sempul (n) - Father Yawntu (n) - Loved

Part one | Part two

The sun was high in the sky by now. You were sitting leaning against a tree near the camp, weaving some baskets. After all, it was one of the only activities you were capable of doing right now.

Not wanting to play the victim, which you certainly are not, you were unable to do activities that required much body movement or strength. In the last few weeks you were experiencing many contractions and extreme pain. Your feet were swollen and it felt like you were carrying a Thanator on your back. Honestly, it couldn't get any worse.

Therefore, your only choice was to do simple tasks that were even assigned to children. You felt useless, it really was not a pleasant state.

But what relieved your stress was knowing that your baby will soon arrive. Soon she will be in your arms, babbling something or crying for your attention. You were anxious. Both to get rid of that awful end-of-pregnancy feeling and to finally feel the warmth of your child.

You were quiet, humming songs as you enjoyed the fresh air of your home and the sounds of nature. Definitely a planet blessed by your divinity.

A few seconds later you finished making the last basket of the day. In total there were three, which you considered to be enough so far. Deciding to take your handiwork to the people in the clan who would use it, you got up from the ground to start your way back to the camp. You certainly had a hard time getting up, heavens, your back was killing you, but nothing that a little effort wasn't enough.

That is until you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and something warm trickle down your thighs.

No. This couldn't be what you thought it was.

A wave of panic began to wash over you as you let out agonized groans from the extreme pain you were feeling.

Why now? Why just now?? Couldn't that have waited a few minutes to happen?!

You had to act fast. You had to go to Mo'at. You had to tell them your baby was coming. But what guarantee was there that you would make it there?

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, you put your hand on your belly and start trying to breathe to calm your heartbeat, but your breath is coming in between cuts. You are losing strength in your legs and the pain is unbearable.

"Hold on baby. Just wait a little longer. We're coming…" Muttering to yourself both as a way to keep calm, and also to keep your focus on the hike, you start walking toward the camp. If you found anyone along the way, that would be good enough. They might be able to help. "Ah Great Mother… I won't make it."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't want to do this alone. You couldn't. You were too afraid of what might happen.

But you also had no strength left in your body. Your legs were shaking, still trying to hold on, and your abdomen was throbbing. It was unbearable. Waves of frustration covered you as your only option was to sit back down on the floor and pray to Eywa that someone would come to help you.

You felt more and more contractions and at this point you could only scream and accept the fact that you would have to deliver the baby yourself.

What an idea of yours to distance yourself from the camp. You could be at home, in your own comfort. But you wanted and needed fresh air.

Jake had become ten times more protective of you, preventing you from going out much, or if you did, was in the company of someone. You understand his concern; you could go into labor at any moment. But it doesn't change that you still missed doing things on your own. Well, that desire of yours led to this situation at the moment.

To make matters worse, you wouldn't have the chance to find your children around, nor your husband. Jake, Neteyam and Lo'ak were out doing their daily training, and Kiri was also studying and learning with her grandmother. They are still children, but it is the best thing to learn at a young age.

With your back resting on the trunk of the tree, you begin to take deep breaths to calm your hiccups and prepare yourself for the next steps. There was no more time, you would have to do it yourself.

That is until you hear footsteps behind you.

It couldn't be a predator. Although you were not exactly in the camp, you were in a nearby location. Wild animals don't go near there because they were aware that there were too many people to deal with. So it is a safe area. But it could also only mean one thing…

It is someone walking there!

And it was just a soul she needed to call for help.

"Grandma told me to get purple seeds, but I've been looking for so long and I can't find anything! Come on…" Kiri was frustrated that she couldn't find the ingredient that her grandmother had charged her to get. But she kept walking.

Until she heard moans of pain and quiet sniffling behind a tree. This startled her a little, but then she thought 'Is anyone hurt?'

Walking cautiously to the spot to check, she came across her mother. She was on the floor looking like she was in pain, sweat covering her entire body as tears streamed from her eyes. It felt like her heart stopped for a second at the sight.

"Sa'nok? What's wrong?!", Kiri crouched down next to her mother, as she started to look around her for apparent injuries. Her eyes fell on her wet legs and her hand resting on her stomach.

"Mom… that's not-"

"Kiri! Oh heavens, thank you. Kiri, my child, go get your grandmother. I need you to get her over here as fast as you can, please!" Her voice was hoarse from crying over the pain, along with the emotion that consumed her that Eywa had listened to her prayers and directed Kiri to you.

"But mother, I can't leave you, not like this-"

"Kiri, it will be all right. I need you to get your grandmother. Now. Hurry!"

Kiri didn't even think straight before her little legs were running towards her grandmother's tent. Even if she gets there quickly, her grandmother won't be able to speed up her steps that much. Seeing her mother in that state terrified her. How long were you there suffering alone? With no one to take away her fear.

Kiri had never run so hard in her life, her lungs were burning for air and her mouth was dry. On the way to the tents, Kiri came across ikrans landing nearby. It was her father and her brothers.

"Hi babygirl, why are you in such a hurry-", Jake was cut off by the pleading voice of Kiri who was gasping for air.

"Sempul! Go to mommy, she needs your help. She's near the tree she usually stands to weave things. Now I need to go to grandma, please take care of mommy!", Kiri didn't even give her father a chance to answer or ask any questions before running back to her grandma. Jake was alarmed by his daughter's tone and her haste. Putting the pieces together, Jake's mind could only think of one thing.

His baby is coming.

Before he could even draw that conclusion, he found himself running frantically to the tree his daughter had said, being followed by his other children. "No, you go back home. Tell Kiri to stay too", Jake shouted over his shoulder, still seeing his children following him.

"We can't stay home, mommy needs help!", Lo'ak tried to argue but only received a warning look from Jake.

"Stay. I'm ordering", Jake spoke in a firmer voice, noticing how his children stopped in their running and just looked at his back. Jake wasn't sure if you would want your children watching your sister deliver her baby and they could only make the situation worse by asking questions. Therefore, he had no choice.

Concentrating on the road ahead, Jake finally arrives at the place informed and is confronted with their pleading and agonized cries. It breaks his heart. If Kiri hadn't found you, what would have happened? Would you have had to go through this alone? He imagines how terrified you must have been.

"Hey, hey, are you all right? I'm here", Jake took your hand and squeezed it gently to convey his support. You didn't have to suffer without anyone anymore.

"I look fine to you-", your speech was cut off by the scream you let out from the sudden contraction you felt. You had forgotten what a hellish pain childbirth was. Even though you had already done it twice, you will definitely never get used to the feeling. "Ah Great Mother… give me strength." More tears rolled down your face as you continued to scream and squeeze Jake's hand.

Jake was never going to get used to this phenomenon either. It was terrifying to say the least to watch the birthing process. He hated to see you suffer, hated that only you had to go through this pain. But he was thrilled at the idea that his baby was finally coming. Jake's heart was starting to soften.

A few minutes had passed with Jake trying to comfort you, his wife, until Mo'at arrived on the scene. When she arrived, she didn't even exchange words properly before going to between your legs and analyzing the situation.

"You are already very dilated. I apologize for not being here sooner, my child. But now I need you to spread your legs wider and push."

You didn't even think long before you pushed it out. You couldn't wait any longer, everything hurt. Your body felt like it was going to break in half. Jake knew you had such strength in your hand at the birth of your first child, but man, he really was always scared. It's amazing that his hand didn't break.

Your throat hurt from screaming so much, and your lower half was numb. Mo'at said that she was already starting to see the child, so she encouraged you to continue.

But how? Frankly, you were running out of strength. This is definitely the most difficult labor of the previous two. You wanted to scream at Eywa and ask her to get it over with, but you could only let out shaky sighs as you continued your labor.

This baby will be a blessing, you will love it as much as the others, you couldn't wait to hold it in your arms. But it's Jake's fault that you're lying there on the floor in pain.

After a lot of sacrifice, a lot of effort, a lot of tears and pain. You were finally able to hear your son's cry. Or rather, daughter.

It was a girl, a beautiful little girl.

You laid your head down on the support Mo'at had placed for you, while you stabilized your breathing. You were exhausted, feeling like you might pass out at any moment. Your body was disgusting and sticky, covered in sweat and blood. It was a little frustrating. But what kept you from exhaustion was the beautiful cry of your daughter. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard.

Mo'at handed the baby into Jake's trembling hands as she thanked Eywa for the blessing. There were tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her lips.

Jake held his daughter in his arms with the greatest care in the world. Tears ran down his cheeks as he talked to the baby to calm her down. "She's so… beautiful."

You let out a weak laugh, more tears filling your eyes. You were thrilled to see Jake's infectious smile, to see your beautiful baby standing there. "Thank you, Big Mom. Thank you."

Jake brought the baby close to you and gently placed her on your chest. She was fussy, crying, but the moment she felt your mother's warmth, she calmed down. Jake helped you support the baby, since you didn't have much strength to hold her. He laughed at the way a small smile settled on the baby's mouth, resulting in an even bigger one from you.

"What's it going to be named, yawntu?", Jake asked, depositing a delicate kiss on your forehead. It was so soft that you thought you had imagined it.

Analyzing the little face of your daughter, you mentally thanked Eywa once again for blessing you with another pure little being in your life. You were very happy.

"Tuk. Tuktirey. That is the name of our new star."

"Mom, can I hold her?" Lo'ak was on his side, just looking at his little sister sleeping on the cloth that was pinned to his chest.

He was not one to admit or call others cute. But in this case it was inevitable. His new baby sister was so cute and cuddly! Her little hands clasped tightly near her mouth to bite, which looked disgusting since she had no teeth.

"If you hold it, you'll knock her over, skxawng", not even looking at her brother, Kiri said with her usual debauched tone. She couldn't take her eyes off her little sister either, her chubby body being too cute to look away.

Neteyam, like his brothers, was inside the small circle they formed around you, who were preparing dinner that day. As an older brother, he was thrilled to gain another sister. He would not speak aloud, but he was afraid that it was another boy, Lo'ak was already enough to handle. Anyway, he was also itching to hold her, but he didn't have the courage to ask like Lo'ak. But not only that, he was also afraid of knocking over or hurting his precious Tuk, so just looking at her was enough. Neteyam already loved her as much as his other brothers did.

"I know you all want to pick up and play with your sister, but she is sleeping now. When she wakes up, you guys can talk to Tuk all you want", you said looking fondly at each of your little ones, noticing the almost nil disappointment in their eyes. You let out a giggle at that.

Jake silently snuck up behind you, slipping his big arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, depositing a lingering kiss on your neck in the process. "Yes. And anyway, only I can hold the TukTuk."

You rolled your eyes at the comment. The children frowned at their father and then said 'That's unfair!'. Jake loved to tease them.

"Sure, sure, Jake Sully", you turned your head to look into his face and deposited a gentle kiss on his lips. "Now go play! You're getting in the way of my food preparation. You too Ma'Jake."

Lo'ak didn't want to leave Tuk's side, she was stronger than he was. But Neteyam dragged him to the other corner of the hut, Kiri saying goodbye to her little sister and following right behind.

Jake and his stubborn spirit, on the other hand, remained motionless in the same place. You sighed and just continued to season the meat to put on the fire to roast later. "And the big baby, will you unglue?"

"I know you don't want me far away", he came closer to you, if it was possible, and began depositing kisses and kisses all over your neck and shoulder. That got you a few gasps and a tickle.

"Pff, how proud you are, huh."

A comfortable silence settled between you, only listening to the screams of the children, probably fighting among themselves over some toy. Neteyam seemed a little lost in the middle not knowing whether to indulge his desire to also fight, or to separate his siblings.

You were more than happy to have this family. You couldn't want anything else in your life. Eywa blessed you with everything beautiful.

Your younger self would never imagine or even think about the possibility of having a family. Your own family. And you're not sure what your former self would think. But your younger self is definitely very happy now. You can only thank Great Mother, and Jake, for coming into your life.

With each moment your heart was filled with more and more affection. So much love that it overflowed and you didn't know what to spend it on; Jake and you have surely raised the most beautiful and sweetest children in all of Pandora.

"We could have one more."

And then silence. Your movements simply stopped and you turned your face to look at him in shock.

"Jake, are you kidding? We just had another baby!"

"What? We can always do more, right?", Jake sank his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he listened to your incredulous laugh. "I can always fill you up with more."

"You are unbelievable sometimes, Jake Sully." You didn't know how to react to your husband's comment. He says that, but when your kids get ready, the first thing he says is 'No more kids!'

You removed Jake's arms from around you, turned around and put your hands on his face, then murmured, "Maybe on our next date night."

There wasn't even time for the man to react before you added to your previous sentence, "Now help me with dinner. I need to finish for you before Tuk wakes up."

Jake pulled himself together and let out a loud laugh before giving you a hug, taking care of the baby on his chest. You were startled, but couldn't stop the smile that was forming on your lips as you heard him whisper, "Thank you, for everything, my love."

"I who thank you, tìyawn."

I believe this is the last part of this story, which at the beginning I didn't even think there would be more 😭 thanks a lot for everything!!! If you want to send suggestions of what I can write or extra scenarios for this story anyway, feel free!

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍓｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍒

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Human Bellamy

Kane & Jim AUs masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, rescue, recovery, begging, starvation, starvation-induced weight loss

you guys can blame @anomalys-taxonomy for this one as they gave me this idea which then instantly rooted itself into my brain.

this is an AU where Kane took a human Bellamy instead of taking Jim (who is a vampire in this AU and helped Bellamy escape but otherwise isn't that important here). Bellamy is a very cooperative whumpee, unlike the defiant Jim, and made efforts to "get on Kane's good side". as such, Kane was a much less severe whumper in this AU, not hurting Bellamy outside of bites. they had a much lighter / less-whumpy dynamic than Kane & Jim do in canon, due to Bellamy's general diplomatic nature and Kane's incredible weakness to shallow flattery.

-

Kane looked up through teary eyes after the hunter left. There he was, Bellamy.

He used to be embarrassed of how much he missed the human after he ran away, but not anymore. All his pride had been washed away, and he just couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed anymore. All he could feel was a deep despair that Bellamy would be the one hurting him now. He never should have gotten so attached.

He could still see the bite-marks etched into Bellamy's neck, a reminder of all the pain he'd caused.

Bellamy cupped his face, and Kane squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper, expecting pain that didn't come.

"Oh, dear," Bellamy breathed. His hand was gentle, stroking along Kane's cheek, and Kane couldn't help but lean into the first kind touch he'd felt in years.

Bellamy's soft fingers hooked around the muzzle. "Let's get this off you then, shall we? I don't believe you require all this fuss, do you, Mr. de Sang?"

It was odd to hear a human use such a formal title for him after all this time. He shook his head in confirmation. No, I'll be good.

Bellamy lifted the muzzle off his face, wincing at the sight of burnt skin. His voice lost that calm, measured tone he nearly always had, pitching up a bit in barely-contained distress. "Oh my."

Kane wasted no time. He knelt, pressing his forehead to the ground. "I'm s-so sorry, Bellamy, sir," he sobbed, overwhelmed with fear of the unknown. "I'm sorry, p-please have mercy, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Shush. That's enough."

Kane snapped his mouth shut immediately at the proclamation, tears running into the ground. Bellamy didn't even want to hear his apologies.

Bellamy crouched and reached a hand toward Kane's chin, then seemed to think better of it and rested it on his back instead. "There will be time enough for that later, when you're not so out of sorts. Could you look up at me, dear?"

He'd never called Kane dear before. Back then, Bellamy had always called him either Mr. de Sang or my good sir, in what almost seemed a jovial mockery of the title Kane required of him, but too good-natured and generally respectful for Kane to really take as an insult.

Kane looked up, as ordered. "Y-yes, sir."

Bellamy gave him a smile that Kane might describe as soft if it were not so obviously forced. "I will indeed grant you mercy. I am not the violent sort, and you are in such poor shape that I could not fathom anything else. You may relax."

He couldn't possibly relax. Kane remained tense, wondering what exactly Bellamy meant by mercy. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"You're very welcome. Come now, then." Bellamy stood, motioning for him to do the same.

Kane followed suit and followed Bellamy to his car. It looked luxurious, even more so than his own car. Humans did rely on them to get around, after all. He fretted about dirtying the seat as Bellamy ushered him into the passenger's side, but Bellamy didn't seem to mind, strapping him in with some sort of fabric restraint. His confusion only grew when Bellamy strapped himself in with the same restraint.

"This is a seatbelt," Bellamy explained, noticing his confusion. "Simply an invention designed to protect the fragile human body. You may undo yours, if you like."

Protect. Why would Bellamy want to protect him?

"I'll keep it on," Kane decided. "Thank you, sir."

Bellamy hummed at that, starting to drive. "I think I'll refer to you as Kane from now on. We're on a first-name basis by now, are we not?"

"Yes, sir." No one had called him by name in years. It made him feel warm, like he was almost a person again.

"You may call me Bellamy, if you wish. Though I don't mind if you continue with the 'sir' business."

"Yes, sir." Safer to stick with the more respectful title.

"I suppose you wouldn't be the most talkative tonight. Why don't I put this on for us?" Bellamy turned on the car radio, which immediately started blasting catchy pop music. Kane perked up at that- he hadn't listened to music in so long. His excitement only grew further when Bellamy switched the station and soft classical music began playing instead.

"Thank you," Kane said emphatically, starting to tear up again.

-

It was a long drive home, and Bellamy was about one millimeter away from losing his absolute marbles.

He hadn't been sure what to expect when he went to visit his former captor, but it certainly wasn't this. He certainly hadn't expected to be taking Kane home. There would be no catching up through cell bars now that his freedom could no longer be stolen away. Kane was not merely a prisoner. Bellamy didn't want to know all of what had happened to him: he wasn't sure his heart could take it.

Of course, Kane had been horrible to him. He'd stolen two years of his life away, bitten him nightly, and was terribly rude nearly the entire time, especially in the beginning. But this? This was too far, by miles and miles. Honestly, with how sensitive Kane's ego was, there mere act of being bested by humans would have already wounded him enough to teach him a lesson. This was monstrous. He couldn't even bring himself to feel intimidated by the vampire, especially after ten years and ample therapy.

He was good at keeping calm under pressure. He could handle a vampire so weak he could barely stand.

Bellamy parked- too much driving for his taste, tonight- and went around to get Kane out of the car. Still looking up at him with those big, desperate eyes, like he was ready to burst into another fit of pleading for mercy. He looked so utterly weak and terrified, it was a wonder anyone could think to hurt him.

"Alright, then. Inside we go." Bellamy took the executive decision of scooping Kane into his arms, given the man looked like a light breeze could knock him over. He weighed so little that if he were human, he would surely be dead.

Kane rested in his arms without protest. "Yes, sir."

Bellamy had a feeling he wouldn't stop hearing that phrase anytime soon.

"What'cha got there, Mr. Verta?" Hayward asked as he approached, eyebrow raised.

Kane tensed in his arms, bright-red eyes focused squarely on the hunting gear on Hayward's belt. "Sir?" he squeaked, voice full of new terror.

"Oh, this is Kane de Sang!" Bellamy introduced. "Kane, this is Hayward. He stands guard at night just to make sure I stay safe." Hiring a retired hunter to this position was still one of the best ideas Bellamy's ever had, in his own opinion. His presence has helped dramatically with his anxieties.

The situation seemed to be taking the opposite effect on Kane, who began to pull in short, panicked breaths, clinging to Bellamy's shirt.

Hayward also seemed to not be a fan of the situation. "You sure this is a good idea? You need help?"

"Please," Kane whimpered, starting to cry again. "I'll be good, p-please, please no more, I promise I can be good."

"No more," Bellamy agreed, holding the trembling vampire close. "Thank you for the concern, darling, but I believe if my guest spends much more time in the presence of vampire hunters, he'll perish from fright alone. He's been through an awful lot, you see."

Hayward nodded skeptically. "Uh-huh. And what's the plan here?"

"I am winging it," Bellamy announced with a wink.

Hayward sighed. "I'll be here if you need me. Be safe."

"Oh, the safest," Bellamy assured. "Worry not, worry not. That goes for you too, you know," he added, looking down at Kane. "Hayward is here to ensure my protection. So long as you do not intend to attack me or whisk me away, you needn't be afraid, and it's quite obvious you intend neither."

Kane nodded frantically. "I don't, I would never, sir."

"Of course you wouldn't. Well, let's be off, then." Bellamy mouthed a thank you to Hayward before carrying Kane into the house, setting him down on the nice, soft couch. Kane seemed to melt into it, some of his tension disappearing. Bellamy wasn't sure whether it was due to being out of the hunter's presence, or the couch itself.

"I'm sorry if I dirty your furniture," Kane said sheepishly.

"Oh, pish posh. Don't worry about that of all things." Bellamy could see that Kane was in obvious need of a bath, but there were other things that must be prioritized. He'd been thinking about it the whole drive home, and determined he was ready. Hayward was outside if things went south, though he was reasonably sure he could handle things himself, what with Kane's current state. "You look positively famished. Would you like a drink, for old times' sake?"

-

That certainly got Kane's mind off the fact that a hunter was stationed outside. He'd been expecting Bellamy to take revenge on him for what he'd done, but instead, he'd offered blood. Blood. Kane hadn't fed in so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to not be hungry.

"You would let me feed?" he asked, eyes practically sparkling with hope.

"What else am I meant to do? Force you to starve? Invite you to feast on fruits and veggies as I do?" Bellamy shook his head at the ludicrous idea.

"Thank you, sir!" Kane exclaimed, suddenly overwhelmed with joy. When it did eventually come time for Bellamy's revenge, he would be okay with anything if he could have blood after the hurting. "Thank you so much, I can't believe this is really happening!"

Bellamy sat down next to him. "It is indeed. Though, I must be clear, this will not be a permanent arrangement. I shall not serve as a source of blood for any large portion of my life," he said firmly, suddenly serious. "Do you understand?"

Kane wanted to ask so many questions. How long would he be allowed food? What happens after? Would he be forced to wither in starvation again, or would Bellamy find another human to provide blood for him?

But he was too afraid to question the generosity that is any blood at all. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Bellamy smiled, his brief seriousness gone. "Wonderful." He rolled up his sleeve, extending his arm. "The neck is a bit cliché, don't you think?"

"I can bite?" Kane asked with bated breath.

Bellamy reclined back on the couch, arm still extended. "You may."

Kane wasted no time. He was being given permission. He bit into Bellamy's forearm- slowly, gently, trying to cause the least pain possible.

It was like a rich, flavorful explosion in his mouth. He had never tasted anything so wonderful, so delicious. All other thoughts slipped from his mind, replaced only with the desperate need to get as much blood in him as possible, as fast as possible.

He was distantly aware that Bellamy was saying something to him, but he was too entranced to process it. He needed blood. There was nothing more important than getting blood, it was the only thing in the world that mattered-

Bellamy tugged firmly at his hair, though slowly enough to avoid a sharp yank. He pulled Kane out of his arm, blood gushing out after.

His voice wavered a bit as he spoke, a hint of anxiety breaking through. "I've asked you to stop."

A wave of horror crashed over Kane as he snapped back to reality, realizing what he'd just done.

"I'm sorry!" he yelped, terror seizing his heart. "I'm so s-sorry, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I don't know what came over me, I was just so hungry I didn't realize what I was doing!"

It was a horrible excuse. Kane was the monster the hunters always said he was, trying to drain his old victim even after Bellamy was kind enough to feed him. He wept brokenly, knowing that it would be the last time. He'd be lucky if his only punishment was getting food taken away forever. He'd easily earned being put in the sun, or even being sent right back to his cell. No more comfortable couches, being gently held, listening to the radio. His reprieve over in a matter of hours.

He couldn't stop crying, mourning the soft life he'd never get to earn. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "Please, mercy, please, I can be better! I-"

"Kane," Bellamy interrupted softly. "I am not going to penalize you for drifting off a bit. It's clear that you are trying your very best." He extended his bleeding arm. "If you wouldn't mind, dear?"

"Oh!" Kane swiped his tongue over the wound, stopping the bleeding and licking up the excess blood as the relief settled in. "S-sorry. Thank you, sir, thank you so much for your kindness."

"Yes, I do believe you're in need of a little kindness after your ordeal," Bellamy said. "Now, why don't we get you cleaned up and into some proper clothing?" He smiled. "I will admit, I've always wanted to dress you up. You always wore such plain things back in the day."

Clothes. Bellamy was going to allow him clothes, like a reward even after he'd earned a punishment.

Kane nodded, finally letting himself give in to the hope that maybe things could be okay. "I would like that very much."

-

kane and bellamy do end up developing feelings for each other and getting together romantically as their relationship progresses, despite their troubled past. all of bellamy's friends share the sentiment of "bellamy, you are well-known for your bad taste in men, but this is a little far even for you." bellamy tells them it's just like beauty and the beast! :) to which they respond "no."

taglist in reblog!

[gaysindistress]

Sad Girl - four

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, guns, violence (it is a mob au after all), Bucky’s smartass

word count: 1.3K

part 3 | series masterlist

a/n: I know this chapter is a little shorter BUT it’s for good reason. The next part will be worth it. 

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman​ 

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

10:30 on the dot and Doll is lounging on the black coach in his office, computer balanced on her knees. Even if she had been whisked into some dystopian world, she still had work to do and emails from her father to ignore. James’ voice could be heard bouncing off the hallway walls as he made his way to his office, talking to someone on the phone. With one hand he opens the office door while the other hand holds the phone to his ear. Surprise is not the first emotion he feels when he notices Doll has made his office her own but it’s only emotion he lets make it to his face. She glances at the clock silently saying “of course I’m on time” and goes back to the files pulled up on her screen. 

“Okay well Steve is more than capable of handling any other issues if they come up so call him,” the frustration is evident in his voice and shoulders as he’s pulling out his own computer and getting it set up on his desk.

“What? No like I said call Steve. Don’t call me and if it’s something really fucked up, Steve will call me. I have a meeting that I am now late to thanks to you not being able to handle little shit,” with that, he ends the call and sits down in the chair that has been calling his name for the last few hours. 

Doll has moved to the chair across from him, eyes taking every detail and making mental notes of where his weak spots are for later use. 

Clearing his throat, he startles her and begins to speak “I’m surprised to see you here already.”

“You said 10:30 so I was here at 10:30.”

“Just surprised given how headstrong you are.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his plump pink lips, wait just lips, as he types something into his computer and turns the screen so they both can see it. He leans forward in effort to make sure she can see the document clearly but all she’s focused on is the chain disappearing under that stupidly well fit burnt orange shirt. 

“I assume you went over the contract already with your father,” he notices where her eyes are looking but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yep.”

“Good girl. Now we do have to officially announce our engagement but you can choose how we do that. You step mother wants us to have an engagement party at their estate but I got your father to agree that announcing it at the fundraiser Friday night would also work.”

‘Good girl’ was not lost on her and her slightly widened as her cheeks flushed which was also not lost on James. 

“I’m required to go anyways so might as well make it useful,” she forces out, nearly chocking on her words, “Pepper only wants to parade you around to all of her friends to show that she has more money and connections than them.” 

“Sounds good to me, Doll. Do you have something to wear?”

She only nods, not trusting the state of her voice. Her mind is too focused on why the hell he chose to say ‘good girl’ and why the hell she’s so flustered over it?

“Can I ask what?”

“A dress.”

“Well of course, Doll but what does it look like?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, “why do you want to know?”

“I want to match my lovely bride to be.”

“Oh well in that case it’s bright yellow with tons of tulle and bows,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

Blue steel eyes and a slight smirk stare back at her, a look of ‘try again’ takes over his face. She wonders how many times he uses this same face on his business partners to get them to comply. Or maybe he reserves it for his girlfriends when they misbehave. 

“It’s a black sleeveless, fitted dress with a v neck.”

“How low?”

“Excuse me?”

“How low is the v neck?”

“My boobs will be covered if that’s what you’re concerned about. I wasn’t exactly planning on being engaged when I bought it.”

“I don’t care what you wear. I’m more concerned about whether or not I’m going to have to hold you back when someone looks at you the wrong way or says something stupid,” he chuckles still leaning over the desk, eyes flickering across her body. 

“I can handle my own,” her annoyance is far out grown whatever else she was feeling. 

“Oh I know you can but since I’m about to be your husband, I do have to play the part.”

“Whatever. What else do you need to go over?” she huffs, crossing her right leg over her left. 

Scrolling down a little more, he says “The wedding is scheduled a month from now. You can plan it or we can hire someone.”

“Hire someone. I don’t have the time to plan a wedding and I don’t want Pepper anywhere near it.”

“I figured as much. I’ll have Natasha get all of that sorted,” scrolling a little more, he stops and makes eye contact with her again, “Aside from those two events, there’s nothing else. We just have to play nice in public while having separate private lives if that’s what you’d like.”

Her fingers flex on her bicep, “If that’s what I’d like?”

“I’m known to have a certain affect on women.”

“Oh my god! You’re an absolutely douchebag. Yes I’d much rather have nothing to do with you outside of public events. Now if we’re done here, I’d like to get back to my very legitimate work,” she says, standing with James’ eyes following her every move. 

“The work you do for you father is not legal,” he remarks, eyes settling on the way she bites her lip in irritation. 

“It’s less illegal than whatever you do,” she shots back, waving a hand in the air. 

Sitting back in his chair,  James clasps his hands together in his lap, “what exactly do you think I do?”

“Illegal…things.”

“Very descriptive, Doll. I’ll tell you if you admit you’re also doing illegal things.”

“Providing therapy to people is not illegal.”

“It is if they’re criminals needing a clear record so they don’t go back to prison. Also what therapist carries a gun around?”

“That’s not what I do and I don’t carry when I’m working,” she affirms with great annoyance. 

“Sure, Doll, just when you’re interrupting important meetings,” it’s his turn to roll his eyes. 

“Maybe don’t involve me in stupid shit and I won’t pull a gun on you,” she pauses to stop herself from exploding on him, “I’m a therapist for reformed individuals.”

He reaches into his desk drawer and ignores her, knowing she won’t let it down if he corrects her. He pulls out a little black box with a box on top and sets it down on the desk in between them. 

“Here’s your ring.”

Going to grab the box, Doll is hesitant to believe what he says. 

“My ring?” she questions as she unties the bow and opens the box. 

Inside is a 3 carat radiant cut diamond ring sitting neatly in velvet. 

“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, “might as well have gotten a 5 carat one, holy shit.”

James smirks smugly at her reaction, standing and takes the box from her hands. He takes the ring out and puts the box down before taking her left hand in his much larger hands. She goes silent and still while he slips the ring onto her finger. Bending down he kisses the top of her hand and her breath hitches. 

“5 would be considered a weapon on your hand. 3 will leave a few cuts but nothing too major. Can’t have you doing any real damage to me,” he says through the smirk he is still wearing. 

“I do have to go. Steve has been blowing up my phone since I walked in. I will see you at dinner,” he says pointing a finger at Doll while he walks out of the room, leaving her flustered and alone in the office. 

[karniss-bg3]

Thank you so much for fulfilling my request! It was so well written, I've already reread it a few times today lol. I imagine a followup writing request to that (if you wanted to) could be a lovely comfort time of Tav patching up Kar'niss in the morning after they both get some well deserved rest. Thanks again!

[Part 2 of this post.]

[Music]

The melodic chirping of birds filtered into Tav’s ears, morning breaking over the encampment. They could feel the pulse of a headache coming on after an uneasy night of rest. The events of the prior evening were still fresh in their mind playing over and over on a loop. Their eyes opened, staring at the ceiling of their tent, pondering what steps to take next. The first priority was to make sure Kar’niss was still doing well and after that play it by ear.

They rose from their bed roll and exited the tent, stumbling into the sunlight which assaulted their eyes making them burn. Nearby their companions had gathered around the camp fire to sort out breakfast, preparing for the long road ahead. Kar’niss was not among them. Tav frowned and wandered over to the edge of camp, spotting the boulder they’d left Kar’niss sleeping on the night before. His perch had been abandoned, streaks of dried blood peppered over the uneven surface. The blanket and pillow had also been left behind in a haphazard pile suggesting Kar’niss had moved sometime recently.

“Did anyone see where Kar’niss went?” Tav asked.

“Yes,” Laezel replied. “The spider-kin stirred just before dawn and retreated into the forest. I did not give chase, he did not seem to require aid.”

Tav rubbed the back of their neck, a slow exhale soon following. “Thank you. Give me a few moments, I want to check on him.”

Tav went to work. First, they retrieved a bucket and filled it to the brim with water from the nearby river. Then they collected medical supplies, a cloth, and their flute, placing them in their pack. Once the satchel was hoisted over their shoulder they lifted the bucket by the rope handle and wandered into the treeline after the drider.

They wouldn’t need to search long especially with the light of day keeping the area moderately lit. They came across a massive nest of webbing spanning across several trees, an intricate weave of thick silk lines that made a wall of white just ahead of them. Nearby Tav could see a deer carcass, it’s body drained of it’s fluids to the point it’s flesh wrinkled and caved in on itself. At least he’d been fed, Tav thought. They placed the bucket down and peered up into the branches in search of their quarry, squinting when rays of sun pierced their retinas from time to time. That was when they spotted it. A round dome of webbing stretched over heavy branches formed a cocoon-like dome with a single entrance near the tree itself. While Tav couldn’t see Kar’niss directly they did spy the very tip of his legs poking out of the doorway, suggesting he had nestled himself tightly into the space in an effort to hide and protect himself.

What concerned them were the noises they heard, quiet but audible. A low, thrumming click generated by Kar’niss’ throat suggested he was in pain. It was akin to a steady purr but by no means positive in pitch.

“Kar’niss? It’s Tav. Are you alright?”

They could hear shuffling from above, the drider seemingly backing up more into their nest. “Go away,” he hissed in frustration.

Tav frowned at his dismissal, their arms moving to cross over their chest. They began to tap their foot as their lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t help you if you’re up there and I am down here. Please?”

Kar’niss didn’t respond, retreating deeper into his webbing. Tav took in a steady breath while rubbing over one of their arms. They wandered over to the tree, reaching out to feather their fingertips over the web, admiring how sticky and soft the adhesive silk was. They turned around and leaned back against the exposed portion of the tree, their shoulders taking on a slump while their mind was hard at work on a solution. Several moments of silence passed, the quiet drifting breeze mingled with Kar’niss’ labored breathing the only sound to be heard. Tav closed their eyes and exhaled firmly.

“I know you’re afraid. If you want to know the twisted truth of it, we all are. Everyone here has something to lose, or something they are running from. They put on a brave face because they have to, it’s the only thing keeping them from falling apart. But most importantly, none of us would’ve been able to make this journey alone. We may not always agree or get along but we are all working toward the same goal; Freedom.” Tav rubbed at their weary eyes, their palms sliding across their face until their fingertips coiled against the tip of their chin. “I don’t know everything that has happened to you but the thing is I don’t need to. I can tell you’ve endured endless horrors, seen things you wish you hadn’t, suffered unspeakable torture. You don’t have to suffer your burdens alone, Kar’niss. Not anymore. If you’ll let me I can help you but I can’t do that if you hide from me. I gain nothing by hurting you.”

Tav could hear some light movement above them but they opted not to look up to avoid spooking the uneasy drider. “At least come down and let me clean the blood off, patch up the worst of the wounds. That way you can heal and regain your strength.” They’d pause, their gaze dropping to the matted grass beneath their feet. “If I wanted you dead I had the perfect opportunity to make that happen last night. You were vulnerable, unhinged, distracted. I didn’t hurt you though, did I?”

Kar’niss’ front legs jutted from the doorway of the cocoon, his head peeking out to peer down at Tav. “No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Tav turned around to peer up at him, finally able to see the one he’d grown familiar with along their journey. “Then I think you owe me at least this much. Come down.” They lifted an arm and extended their hand in Kar’niss’ direction.

He eyed the hand with an air of skepticism, mulling over all that had been said. Eventually he crawled his way out of the elevated burrow, climbing his way down the tree. Tav stepped back to make room, able to finally assess the damage up close. Kar’niss was battered and bruised, particularly his face. His rounded abdomen at the back had a crack in the chitin from where he forcefully backed into a tree. Dried blood was caked in his hair while red splotches were present over his face and chest. Tav looked over his body and scowled in concern.

“Lower your body down so I can reach, please.”

The drider hesitantly complied, their long legs curled into sharp points at the joints either side of him. Tav retrieved the cloth and dipped it into the water bucket, wringing it out before returning to him. “This may sting a little but it is only temporary.” Tav cupped Kar’niss’ chin with one hand while the other guided the moist cloth over his face to clean away the blood smears. He flinched in response actively leaning away out of instinct but Tav did not chide him for this. Instead they waited for him to calm so they could resume.

“We do not understand why you do this for us,” Kar’niss said. His eyes watched Tav’s face as if expecting deception in their reply.

Tav hummed in thought while cleaning off his face. “Because I want to. But if you require something with more depth, I do this because I’m betting no one else ever has. It’s really no bother to me if that is your worry. Everyone deserves positive attention, yourself included.”

He blinked, perplexed by the reply. He didn’t seem to understand the statement or at the very least had a hard time accepting it. “We find this behavior strange. But if it appeases you then do what you must.”

Tav chuckled and looked up at him. “It does appease me. Now hold still please.”

They finished cleaning off his face which revealed the half healed claw marks etched across his face. Tav retrieved a bottle of salve, uncorking the cap in order to apply the white paste over the scratch marks etched into his cheeks.

“How long did it take you to build all of this webbing?” Tav asked.

“A few hours,” Kar’niss murmured. He squirmed a little as the salve was applied but did his best to stay still. “It is fortunate there are many trees so close together. It makes weaving less complicated.”

Tav smiled. “It’s beautiful work, I must admit. Intimidating, but beautiful all the same.”

“Those caught in it would not agree,” Kar’niss said.

“I suppose not. I am glad I am not one of them.”

Once satisfied his facial wounds were treated, they moved around to inspect the crack in the chitin over the spider abdomen. They ran their fingers over the hardened surface, able to feel how rough and bumpy the texture was. In truth it was fascinating to them but they didn’t want to gawk.

“Leave it,” Kar’niss said. “It will close in its own time.”

They heard what he said but still found themselves gently petting over the curvature along the surface, feeling every imperfection along the way. They leaned over to peer curiously at his spinnerets which were barely visible beneath the stinger on his tail end.

“Amazing,” they whispered.

Kar’niss’ backside wiggled and his legs shuffled beneath him. “Stop staring.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m just a bit curious I suppose. I’ve never seen someone like you before.”

The drider grunted and crab walked to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. “We are an abomination. We are drider.” His tone was stiff and irritated, averting his eyes from Tav completely.

The adventurer chuckled and stepped in front of him, seeking to find his gaze and meet it. “You are a drider, but you are no abomination. If I’m lucky someday you might deign me with a tour of your branch burrow. It looks cozy.”

Kar’niss tipped his head to the side with a hint of confusion, his nostrils flaring in a sharp exhale. “Perhaps…”

“Mm I will need to clean out your hair but I will do so once the salve has set. For now I think you’re in better shape and that is a relief. Thank you for allowing me to help.” Tav paused as a thought dawned on them. “One more thing. If...you start to hear those voices again and they become too much, seek me out. Night or day it doesn’t matter. We might have a chance to cut them off at the pass before you seek to harm yourself. I’d rather try than just stand by and let it happen. Does that sound good?”

Kar’niss rubbed at one of his arms, his pedipalps pulled taut against his lower half. “Yes...we can agree to this.”

“Good, I’m grateful. Now get some rest. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tav picked up the bucket, the water within a murky color from the dried blood and dirt. At least Kar’niss looked far better than when Tav found them and his pained purring had ceased. They left the area to return Kar’niss’ solitude to him, leaving the drider alone to think. He scaled the tree and returned to his silken cocoon, crawling inside to get comfortable. He reached up and touched over the sticky salve on his face, noticing how it reduced the burn of the scratch marks and brought him some ease. He thought over everything Tav said and a lot of it stuck out. But when he thought about it deeper he realized they were right. No one had ever done this for him before. Not in the Underdark, not in Moonrise, no where. What did this mean?

It left him with a whole host of feelings he didn’t understand or know how to process. Did this mean he could trust Tav? Had he finally found a place where abuse and belittling wouldn’t strike from around every corner? Experience told him that it was all a ruse, a falsehood surely to be revealed in time. Yet for the first time he could recall a new voice was starting to form in his mind. Not one born of Lolth’s cruelty nor of the Absolute’s control. This was different, new, and it was saying something he didn’t expect.

Do something for Tav.

His eyes widened, startled. Repaying a kindness? It was a novel concept and one he didn’t consider before. Perhaps because kindness was a word foreign to him, much less being on the receiving end. It begged the question, what could he possibly do in return? He had nothing of value and most of his talents were based on combat. Most, but not all. He took in a sharp breath, a eureka moment hitting him, nodding to affirm his decision to himself. He would do it.

The day wore on and Tav had left with Astarion, Wyll and Shadowheart to scout ahead. They ran into a few battles along the way but managed to return to camp in the evening with little injuries to report. Gale went to work starting dinner while the others gathered around to compare the loot they’d obtained, the atmosphere generally upbeat which was a nice change of pace.

Tav wandered over to their tent to change out of their dirty clothes, looking forward to relaxing after an exhausting day. Yet when they slid inside they noticed something unusual resting on their pillow. Upon closer inspection it looked almost like a doll but woven in a strange way. They picked it up to get a better look, noticing the material used was sticky to the touch. Was this...webbing? The item had two outstretched arms and two legs, similar to a gingerbread man in shape. Sticks were used as a skeleton underneath the weave so it maintained its shape, the web tightly wound around and around until it formed a solid base. Leaves and grass were glued on to represent clothes with two tiny pebbles squished into the head to form eyes. It was then that Tav realized this was meant to represent themselves. Not a perfect likeness but damn close for the limited resources the maker had to work with. Tav’s lower lip quivered once the realization hit, their heart squeezing within their chest. They sat cross-legged on their bed roll and smiled, bringing the make-shift doll to their chest so they could hug it close. It was the greatest gift they could’ve ever received, especially knowing where it came from. They didn’t move from that spot, hoarding the gift as if it were the most grand treasure known to man.

“Thank you, my dear Kar’niss.”

[wildcatfourteen]

how do you come up with such interesting composition? your pieces are always so captivating 💗

thank youuuuuuuuuu <33 and the truth is. idk. i am kinda just winging it and making a lot of adjustments as i go.... im not very orderly about it and have my thoughts kinda all over the place. heres some examples under the cut w what process pics i could find

direction process goes >>>

first did a pencil sketch for big shapes. was just placing stuff down. i wanted to make ref sheets for an art trade but didnt want to make a traditional type bc i hate drawing ppl standing full body (bc im bad at it 👍) also i did not have specific outfits in mind and was going more for a reference of the general vibe of the characters, so i just wanted a full body pose + face close up. to avoid having to show specific details. bc i was cheating. was originally going to have multiple text bubbles around for the character facts

did like two sketches digitally. messed around a LOT with placement. the little emote heads came out of me feeling like it was empty and boring on its own and they are fun to draw so why not include them. the multiple text bubbles seemed like a bad idea now so i took them out and just did one text wall.

i actually dont like the text wall now and think breaking it up wouldve been more fun visually but that would've required effort i didnt wanna put in LOL

^ i lost the pencil sketch for this one (i always do a pencil sketch) but it was actually just the two half body drawings at first with none of that shit at the bottom or the close ups until i was like fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk i gotta add smth around to make this look like theres stuff happening..... the idea was to draw the two main characters of the labb novel in some kinda comic format w panels around and i then. kept adding things until it seemed like i was getting somewhere. thats kind of my process for everything TT i think it helps to stay in a workshopping stage for longer if needed to get somewhere but i often get impatient LOL

im putting a stupid note abt this here bc im still annoyed at myself but in this novel, there was a bit about a crossword puzzle related to a murder case and i only thought of it afterwards that it would be kinda cool to put the sugar cubes in like a crossword puzzle formation....... why didnt i do that......

^ and heres some of the process for this one, but i lost a LOT of the steps for this. the beginning was totally different. the character wasnt as pathetic and scared looking at first but then i was like uhhhhh lets draw him that way :)

the first pencil draft was from a different perspective and it was gonna have a mirror composition to it kinda? but i wasn't able to make that look appealing so i deleted it. it still had the curtains tho but then i also included stuff with framed mirrors + other frames around

i decided to instead make the curtains be the focus of the whole piece to not make it so cluttered. character's pose was so different at first it was so bad i dont even wanna remember it. i took out the frames entirely bc i didnt think they added much to the piece in terms of the atmosphere. since like. the more i worked on it w the character's + the goat's expressions the more it gave a 'being hunted' feeling to it and portrait frames dont fit that vibe. which feels funny bc u look at it and thats all u can think abt but i wasnt even gunning for that when starting out. BE FLEXIBLE. TRUST THE PROCESS.

[ncisfranchise-source]

Austin Stowell is grateful for the way NCIS: Origins has created space for meaningful — and necessary — discussions about mental health as someone who weathered a personal loss while filming the hit CBS series.

Stowell, 39, opened up to Us Weekly about channeling his own grief while playing Leroy Gibbs in the prequel, saying, “I had to tap into some personal trauma. I lost my father four years ago to suicide and that’s obviously not easy.”

NCIS: Origins set an important example by centering the series around a pivotal point in Gibbs’ life, which paved the way for Stowell to work through his own feelings.

“I get to tap into that all the time and I get to exercise those emotions. I get to revisit them in some ways that four years ago would’ve been too fresh, too much and too emotional for me to touch upon,” he admitted. “I think because I’ve had some time and space, I was more prepared to play this character than I would’ve been four years ago.”

Stowell often would use his own experience for his performance, adding, “It informs me because I have gone through what the stages of grief are like. Certainly through the first 10 episodes that we’ve filmed now, the audience is getting the full gamut of emotion [with Gibbs].”

NCIS: Origins follows a young Gibbs in 1991, years prior to the events of NCIS. Taking over the role originated by Mark Harmon, Stowell had his work cut out for him as NCIS: Origins thrust viewers into a period in Gibbs’ life shortly after the death of his wife and daughter. Gibbs attempts to navigate his new job as a special agent at the NIS Camp Pendleton office while still dealing with losing his loved ones.

“Rage, sadness, grief, regret and glimmers of hope [are all explored on the show.] Those who learn to live with grief and with loss are not moving on from it. You just learn how to live with it,” Stowell explained to Us. “That is very difficult and some people are less comfortable living with it afterwards. But if this show can ease other people’s pain in any way and help them learn to live with it, I would consider that a great success.”

Stowell’s approach to playing this extremely traumatic point in Gibbs’ life has received critical and fan acclaim. But it also required a lot of hard work that often affected Stowell long after he wrapped on an episode.

“Sometimes [the emotional weight of a scene] does [come home with me]. Sometimes I can’t control. It’s not a faucet that I can’t turn it on and off. It just is — and I’ve learned to accept it. I think it makes me a better actor, a better man and a better friend. It makes me a more understanding member of society [because] sometimes people are just having a rough time or having a bad day,” he continued. “It’s helped me be less judgmental and have some head space, as they say. I hope that translates to my work and to the people I work with at the end of the day.”

While reflecting on getting to lead a franchise as successful as NCIS, Stowell expressed how thankful he was for the cast and crew on the show.

“Sure, we make a TV show for the people out there and we absolutely look forward to it and want to share it with them. But the crew that I go to work with every day has a more intimate look at the process and I rely on them to allow me the comfortability and the space to reveal myself,” he noted. “They have my gratitude because they are so there for me all the time. This wonderful and talented crew that we have on this show. They are as responsible as I am for this character because of the comfort that they allow me to play Gibbs.”

Stowell may be playing the main character but he refuses to take most of the credit. He made numerous efforts to highlight how everyone on set deserved the praise despite him being the face of the new show, which has already received a full season order.

“If Mark Harmon were here right now, he would look at me and laugh. He would shake his head and he would say, ‘You don’t know what’s coming.’ I don’t think there is any way to prepare [to lead a show],” he told Us. “I am the man who my mother and father raised me to be. That influence on me has been my greatest tool when handling the workload and the responsibilities that come with playing a character like this with.”

It has at times been “uncomfortable” for Stowell to hear himself be referred to as No. 1 on the call sheet, adding, “I never want to look at it that way. There are times when it’s mentioned on set and I do ask them not to say that. It is us. It is all about this team. Mark Harmon, David J. North, Gina Lucita Monreal and Sean Harmon have done an amazing job at creating a team that has just taken such ownership over this project.”

Stowell recalled how the executive producers weren’t just looking at talent while casting the show. (The series also stars Kyle Schmid, Mariel Molino, Tyla Abercrumbie, Caleb Foote and Diany Rodriguez.)

“They chose [people] because of who they were as human beings. They’re all phenomenal actors and we found exactly the people we wanted to get for these roles. I am so lucky to go to work with the people I go to work with every day,” he shared. “Personally, this is a character that I jump out of bed to play in the morning. I am very honored that I have been tapped to be Gibbs. It means a lot to me and I didn’t expect it to mean so much to me. Just in the first five months, I have grown so much as a human being. I am Gibbs’ biggest fan now. It’s a dream job.”

Despite not seeking out reactions to NCIS: Origins as he remains committed to the day-to-day work, Stowell is hopeful that viewers feel represented on screen. Stowell expressed to Us how NCIS: Origins has potentially paved the way for others to relate to Gibbs’ emotional journey.

“That is something very near and dear to my heart. If we can be the conversation starter — which I think is our job as artists and storytellers. Our job is to be the catalyst for uncomfortable conversations,” he said. “If we can help anyone out there live an easier tomorrow, that would be the greatest gift to me.”

There was a lot of pressure for NCIS: Origins to succeed not just in the shadow of NCIS but as its own story. It has and Stowell is even more motivated to get the show to the finish line as he prepares to film the remaining episodes of season 1.

“It’s my job to keep it going. It’s my responsibility to my fellow actors, to the crew and to the fandom at large. I want to play Gibbs to the best of my ability and not leave any rock unturned,” he told Us. “I don’t want to look back and regret something later on that I could have or I should have. That’s driving me all the time — enough to get a full season order. That’s a nice vote of confidence to say it’s working, but that’s not party time.”

He concluded: “If anything, that means, ‘OK, it’s working so keep it going. Don’t change anything and keep that up.’ We’re putting 300 people to work every day who depend on us to a certain extent. So it would be disrespectful of me not to give it my all.”