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#but I thought I'd at least share this one
dnd-smash-pass-vs · 21 hours
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Inevitable been thinking about how that one anon viewed Laios as a monsterfucker, and I think it made me realize the source of that confusion:
I think many monsterfuckers, and also many (dare I say most) monster devourers like Laios, both derive their desire from the same source: a latent wish for apoteratosis, the wish to become a monster.
Linguistic side note: apotheosis, becoming a god, breaks down to apo- (towards the end point), theo (god), -osis (turn noun into verb), so I swapped in the root for monster, hence apo- terato -osis. Side note over.
Monster devourers are a rather rare archetype in (mainstream) fiction, but they do exist. Those who seek to mimic or emulate the monster's power, those who find them endlessly fascinating and study them well past the point of obsession, those who wish to show their dominance over the monster by proving that they can kill and eat it... and I think Laios is the first I've seen who takes the title quite so literally, where his obsession goes straight to monsters-as-food.
Monsterfuckers, meanwhile wish to become close to the monster in a non destructive way (or at least a typically less destructive one, usually the only casualties are furniture and few bandages are needed, but I'll acknowledge that exceptions definitely exist). They wish to bond with it, to connect to it through lust or intimacy, to be able to stand at its side. They wish, on some level, to join it. Side note, I'm not saying this is true of all teratophiles, some are just kinky and driven by the thought of positive physical pleasure, or who find the personality of a given monster appealing, but I do think the apoteratotic desire is an underlying driver for many, I'd guess well more than half, it's just a subtle enough thing that I don't think most are consciously aware of it.
There's also a third point to the secret apoteratosis triangle that might surprise you: the monster slayer. Sure many, even most, slayers are driven by something like disgust or xenophobia or even rationality, but a significant minority land in the "if you can't join 'em, beat 'em" a.k.a. "I can't be you, so I'll destroy you" camp.
And these three reactions are, I notice, the three most common reactions that people have to one thing: the unattainable desire. The sentence begins "I cannot have it..." and these three camps end it different ways.
The teratophages say "so I shall dominate it." They seek what power they can grasp so they can have some modicum of control, so they can try to "have" it anyway. The kaiju corpse scavengers in Pacific Rim including refined and suave mob boss types just smacks of this attitude.
The teratophiles say "so I'll get as close as I can." There's a werewolf romance book where they're considering trying to turn the girlfriend, though they have no idea if she'll survive it (boyfriend was turned by accident then abandoned, so he's clueless, and they haven't found any others to teach them), and she says that she's fine remaining human, because she shares the power through him. "I have it, because you have it." The façade eventually breaks and in a vulnerable moment she confesses that she'd be willing to risk even a likely death to try to be turned. When they get in contact with an elder who can turn her safely she doesn't even wait a week.
The teratophobes write that whole sentence as "if I can't have it, then no one can." I'm sure everyone has seen enough examples of this behavior to understand that it's just a kind of love turned corrupt.
I'm not the first to notice the underlying apoteratotic urge: the aforementioned werewolf story, indeed many werewolf and vampire stories romanticize the transformation of a human into a monster. Back to Dungeon Meshi, author Ryōko Kui is fully aware of it with how Laios's underlying desire is eventually brought out of the subtext and explicitly named as his dysphoria with humanity, and his wishing that he could be a monster. For Laios that desire skipped right past the socially unacceptable monsterfucking, explicitly a form of bestiality in that world, to the socially acceptable devouring, though tempered by his respect and admiration of monsters into a desire for symbiosis with them. He cannot become one in truth (or so he thought when younger) but he could become part of their food web. It's as close as he thought he could get. Of course, that's the Watsonian explanation; the Doylist explanation is that Ryōko Kui wanted to subvert expectations, and also wanted to explore this angle of it.
So, all taken together, I think people read Laios as monsterfucker coded simply because teratophiles, teratophages, and teratophobes all share the same root motivation: apoteratosis. Thus, all three branches are coded very similarly.
It's similar to something I've seen in Batman fandom: some fans project romantic love between various members of the Batfamily, which is both wildly against canon and thoroughly hated by some other branches of fandom. But it is understandable, since familial love and romantic love both come from the same root, love of another. If someone doesn't recognize the simultaneous similarities and distinctions, it's all to easy to conflate them. If you don't actually understand the distinction, then the signs of affection between siblings might look the same as the signs of affection between lovers. Likewise, if you don't understand the distinction, the urge of the monster devourers (or ecologists) might look the same as the urge of the monster fucker.
I've sat on this for near a month, partially because of my repeated absences, partially because I wanted to honor it with an equally in-depth response. But 24 days later I've still got nothing, while I can't speak for that particular person I think in general you hit the nail right on the head for the base roots. I got no notes. Even with Laios...like all I can add is how supplemental materials actually confirm he did want to be a monster researcher but found books too dry, the only one who seemed to really *get* monsters was shunned. and how wild he goes when talking with an actual werewolf, "The existence I thought unobtainable is now right in front of me".
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rurpleplayssims · 1 day
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I've been building a townhouse all day today and these have been invaluable to me today!
Seasoned TS2 builders/players will no doubt recognise them, but I only recently discovered them, and thought it might be useful to share them, along with download links with you all. 😇
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First one is 'Tile Blocker'.
It's as simple as the name suggests. This one stops sims walking into the tile where you've played this big red brick. Of course it has an invisible recolour, like OMSPs. This is useful in instances say, where a dresser's mesh overhangs another tile, so you can stop a sim being router, so they don't walk through the object.
Example of it being used here.
You can download it here.
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Second one(s) are Slot Blocker/SlotBlocker and serve the same purpose.
I have many surfaces in the townhouse, where I don't want to put items, but I don't want sims to place items there either. There are two different types and I downloaded both.
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I found that the SlotBlocker (pictured above) appears on more areas than the first one, but I do have Moar Slots installed. The first link is part of a Counter Completers set.
Slot Blocker can be downloaded here.
SlotBlocker can be downloaded here.
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And last, but by no means least, are these beauties. These were a shock that I'd not heard of them before. I actually found them off TeaAddict's videos, but she mentioned that AniBats had used them in her Pleasantview series videos.
These are Object Rotators. 😍
Basically, they let you rotate for even more increments, so not just at 45 degree angles.
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For example, I got this chair to be at a fair gentler angle to the dresser than if you'd not used them. There are three different sizes for differently sized objects, only 1 tile objects sadly atm.
The set I have can be downloaded here.
However, in searching for the link for this post, I saw these as well, which I assume serve the same purpose..? 🤔 I've not used them but thought I'd link them just in case anybody else was interested.
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macgyvermedical · 11 hours
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My Experience in Inpatient Psych
So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.
To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.
The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.
Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.
On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.
I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.
At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.
I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).
They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.
I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.
Well, that's not what happened.
Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.
Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.
Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.
When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..
The rules included:
No patients allowed in other patients rooms
No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon
No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine
No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use
A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.
The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.
I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.
On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.
Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.
I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.
There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.
I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.
My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.
I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.
I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.
I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.
I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.
When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.
Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.
A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.
Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.
I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.
In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.
Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.
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confused-pyramid · 4 hours
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Breaking Point
pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...
word count: 3.4k
warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking
a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!
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You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.
Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.
"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."
You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."
He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."
The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.
He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.
"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."
He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.
A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."
He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.
You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.
***
He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.
Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.
"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."
You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."
Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.
"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.
You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.
"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."
You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.
He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"
You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.
"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."
Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."
You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."
You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.
"I'll walk you to your car."
He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.
You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.
He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.
He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.
"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."
He doesn't move.
It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.
Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."
Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.
After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.
Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.
"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.
"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."
"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.
You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.
"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"
Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.
Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.
You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."
He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."
You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."
"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.
"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"
His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."
You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."
You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.
***
You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.
He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.
His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.
You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-
The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.
People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.
Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.
When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.
***
You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.
You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.
There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.
"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.
Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."
"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."
He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.
"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.
He shakes his head. "I'm good."
You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.
Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.
"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.
He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."
"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."
He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."
"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."
That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."
"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."
His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"
You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."
His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.
Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.
If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.
Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.
Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.
"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."
It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.
By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.
"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."
He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.
His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.
His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.
He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.
You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.
"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."
Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.
He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.
He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.
The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.
He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.
His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.
He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.
You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.
Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.
Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.
His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.
After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.
You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.
"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."
"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."
You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.
You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.
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Hi! If you are still taking requests, I'd love a head cannon with marrying the companions at the castle, and how they would feel? Thank you for considering this! ❤️
Marrying the Fo4 Companions at the Castle
➼ Word Count » 1.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic ➼ A/N » I didn't add Codsworth because I couldn't stop thinking about Nate/Nora dying and then their spouse remarrying their butler. Felt too awkward😭
MacCready never imagined that he'd ever find someone who would love him as much as Lucy did and still know of his entire past. It makes him hopeful that Duncan could actually get a second partner to rely on in the future. He's never been too close with any of the Minutemen but, I imagine if he had to pick he'd choose them as his preferred faction. So, being married at the Castle wouldn't be an issue for him, but he'd get married just about anywhere as long as it meant you'd be the one he got to marry. It's one of the only times he doesn't intentionally pick a fight with Preston as he desperately wants his help with making him look his best. He knows he won't steer him wrong, since he's so close to you. He's so fidgety and nervous, but couldn't be more thrilled to devote the rest of his life to you.
Nick doesn't mind getting married at the Castle. If you'd asked him, he would've suggested the All Faiths Chapel, but in hindsight, the Castle seems a tad more appropriate for the two of you. Especially, when you consider that most of your loved ones are either already there or close enough in range to reach it safely. He cleans himself up quite nicely for the occasion, having Sturges help polish off his body's more visible aspects. He's a sucker for vintage weddings, and if you could somehow convince either Strong or a group of Minutemen soldiers to move one of those old cars into the venue, he'd consider proposing to you all over again.
Cait couldn’t care less where you two got married. She’s just glad that she’s going to marry you at all. Even if the Minutemen get on her nerves, she can’t help but find herself teary-eyed at the thought that you love her enough to even want to marry her. Even if it's almost certain that she's going to get into an argument of some sort with one of the faction members, she's still going to do her best to get along with everyone at the venue and make it fun for the both of you. She's never been a big fan of weddings and would prefer it if you only invited a small number of people, but besides that, she'll do her best to be as vulnerable with you as she possibly can on this day. Her being completely upfront and honest with you about how she feels is the least she could do after everything you've both been through together. It's the most emotional you have ever, and probably will ever see again.
There aren't many places at the Boston Airport that make sense to use for a venue so, Danse understands why the Castle is where you'd want to hold it. Even if they aren't Brotherhood, Danse still holds a lot of respect for the Minutemen soldiers and wouldn't mind playing nice if it meant making this day more memorable for you. He might even come to find that him and Sturges have a lot more in common than he initially thought. With them both being interested in power armor and whatnot. Danse is sorta like a puppy when it comes to these things, anywhere you want to go and anything you want to do, he's fully on board with. The location doesn't matter to him, as long as he's able to slip a ring on your finger. He's mainly just glad to be apart of your life in such a meaningful way and he hopes it'll stay that way for a long time to come.
Preston couldn't be happier to share this moment with you in a place he holds in such high regard. Especially since everyone he cares about is right here with you both in this moment. There’s nowhere more perfect in his mind and he’s overjoyed to be able to marry you despite the world being so tainted. It makes him that much more determined to defend the Commonwealth knowing that there are people like you still living in it. He does everything in his power to make the day go as smoothly as you could ever hope. He doesn't rest until the venue looks just as you described it to him, every little detail you dreamed about to him set in stone before your big day. Nothing is out of place, and he can't wait to see your expression when you see the effort he put into it all.
Piper had always been too enamored in her work to really consider a day when she'd get married to someone. She surprises herself when she agrees to commit herself to you for the rest of her life but, she supposes it's a welcomed one. The Castle would not have been her first choice when thinking of places to get married. If it were up to her, she would've picked somewhere on the coast. So, the two of you compromise and do it just outside the Castle on the sandy parts of the territory. She finds it to be much nicer on the outskirts, especially with the soft sound of the waves in the background. Nat makes the perfect flower girl for the occasion and she makes sure you're feeling more laid-back about the day rather than stressed. A light-hearted, casual wedding on the beach is all she could ever want.
Curie is so excited to wear a white dress! She’s read about this ritual before, but being able to partake in it is something she finds lovely! She couldn't care less where it happens, as long as the two of you can make it as accurate to the pre-war version as you can. She'll spend hours rambling to the Minutemen soldiers about all sorts of different topics out of being so nervous, but luckily for her, they're kind enough to just let her talk. Being able to experience something that holds such high importance to couples helps her to feel more human in her new body. There are so many different things she wants to do to further implement her as a person, and what better way to start than by getting married?
Strong doesn’t want to get married. It didn’t seem to work out all that well with Macbeth, so why would he want that for himself? Can’t you be a unit together without all your weird human rituals? Besides, there's no way anyone would ever get him into a classier outfit.
Hancock would’ve preferred to have married you in Goodneighbor since it's his home and everyone he planned to invite is there. But he's honestly so head over heels for you that he’d marry you in the glowing sea if that’s what you desired. He'll just ask to have two weddings instead of one, that way both of your 'families' can witness it without it being too much of a hassle. He's actually kinda glad your first wedding will be held at the Castle because he can't tie a tie to save his life, and Preston is way nicer about it than anyone in Goodneighbor would be. This way, he can learn and not be teased about it every time he walks into his own town, and Preston promises to keep his secret for him.
Deacon feels uncomfortable about getting married in front of everyone. He’d rather you go somewhere where it’s only you two and slide a ring on each other's fingers after saying your vows. No crowd, no long tradition. He's really nervous about the wedding, especially since it's being held in a place that means so much to you and to everyone else in the Minutemen. He wants to make this special, but his fear of being vulnerable is slowly killing him. He's so afraid that he'll get to the front of the makeshift alter and make a fool of himself. He's so shaky that you almost have to go over and ask how he's doing. He'll do it for you, just know he's having a few drinks beforehand to encourage his more charismatic side out of him. If that doesn't prove his love for you, I don't know what does.
X6-88 would hate it but would be surprisingly quiet about it for your sake. He thinks the Castle is disgusting, and he doesn’t particularly like the Minutemen, even if you are the general, but he wants this to be your day and so he’ll marry you where you want. The Institute would’ve been cleaner, and he could’ve arranged nicer decorations, but he supposes it doesn’t matter, as it’ll be him putting a ring on you either way. He can look forward to that, at least.
Old Longfellow would be pretty open about not wanting to get married there. He wants to compromise a little bit with you, as all of his closest friends are in Far Harbor and all of yours are in the Commonwealth. If anything he’d prefer to marry you in a place somewhere in the middle of those two places. You'll have to sit down with him and decide on a place that works for both of you and, if you can't find one, he has no issue just being with you. He's a firm believer in not needing to be married to prove your love for your partner. So, if that's how it ends up being, that's how it'll be.
Gage never imagined he’d ever get married, let alone at a Minutemen settlement. What were the odds? It’d take a lot of convincing to get Preston to agree to let you get married to a raider in the Castle. He gets slight flashbacks to Quincy at the thought of someone like him entering Minutemen territory so freely. But, as much as he disproves your relationship, he’ll let go of his grudge for the day so you two can get married. Security is amped up like crazy though. Gage personally doesn’t care where he gets married as long as it’s not in Nuka-World. The gang members aren’t too fond of the ritual and will begin to look down on both of you for participating in something so “classy”. It’s best if they don’t know.
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hushed-chorus · 2 days
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Hi folks! I hope you've all had a grand week! I just ate a bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes. It was pretty epic.
Chapter three of Those Glowing, Magickal Years went live today. Sorry for the wait, and hopefully the 8k word count makes up for the delay. That means the fic is 21k words so far, and we've only just come to the close of Year One. @erzbethluna keeps telling me this fic will end up at least 300k, and I fear she may be right.
In the spirit of Wednesday's rec post, please accept six sentences from TGMY that feature the word 'blood'.
Every bag of blood I sup on, every morsel I learn, I do so because he’s given it to me.  Today he’s a particularly unruly barrage of bangs and bravado, but at least he doesn’t smell like blood. “That bloody sword answered only to Pitches for generations!”  Hot blood splashed across my hands, face, clothes, and the carpet.  I want to lap up his insolent blood, let it thread all its heady warmth into me, let his heart coil around mine and bring it to life, just for a few precious, strong beats.  What the bloody hell is he up to? 
Tags below the cut, as well as some thoughts on another WIP I may pick up
@artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @cutestkilla
@ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe
@ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @whogaveyoupermission
@nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @shrekgogurt
@theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @valeffelees
@j-nipper-95 @rimeswithpurple @wellbelesbian @imagineacoolusername
@youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @alexalexinii @bookish-bogwitch
@cosmicalart @bazzybelle @theotherhufflepuff @that-disabled-princess @prettygoododds
@mooncello @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire @emeryhall @monbons
Those Glowing, Magickal Years still has a solid grip on me. However, another fic idea has started beating me around the head. A good old chonk of time ago, I mentioned I was working on a snowbaz fic inspired by Fallout New Vegas, provisionally titled Hope Springs Eternal. Well, I may have watched the Fallout show and that idea is shaking me by the lapels.
In addition, presently TGMY is from the POV of tween Baz and Simon, but I have the itch to write something that's slower in pace. Something that has a narrative voice that allows some decadence in the writing. Despite it's source of inspiration, Hope Springs Eternal imagines a post-apocalyptic world that has struggles, but also has magic, goodness and space for hope. (And vampire angst.)
Now, I don't want to actively work on THREE fics (yes, FAIAP has not been abandoned, just on a school-related hiatus). I'd go loopy.
That being said... Well, my initial draft of Blood, Salt, and Hummingbirds was written in an obscenely beautiful notebook. Writing by hand is a nice relief sometimes, especially if you're tired and sore. The writing feels low-pressure and indulgent, compared to the focus I put into writing on laptop.
So I may dive into that idea in that format. If it makes good progress, I'll get it typed up and share it.
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john-macnamara · 2 days
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It took us a little while to find the file for this, but we wanted to successfully wrap up PEIP's infamous portal incident. As you know, the Paranormal, Extraterrestrial, and Interdimensional Phenomena division of the United States' Military interrogated one Johnathan S. MacNamara after the incident. He was twenty-four at the time. We thought it would be beneficial to share this portion of the story. Give all you loyal followers the full picture.
cws: implied torture, degradation, drugging, implied sexual assault
Interrogation Records: Major Johnathan S. MacNamara; Feburary 15, 2006.
Interviewer: Lt. Gen Joseph N. Brown (JB)
Interviewee: Maj. Johnathan S. MacNamara (JM)
Purpose: Prove connection to ex-Colonel Wilbur R. Cross, now under alias Uncle Wiley
At 2:38 AM, MacNamara was forcibly removed from his bed and taken to interrogation room C. He was confined with handcuffs in case of an escape attempt, and injected with 0.7 ml of flunitrazepam combined with 5 ml saline solution. As soon as the injection was completed, the interrogation began.
[Begin Transcript 00:00:05]
JB: What is your relation to Wilbur Cross?
JM: I don't see how this has any relevance to our current problem. Nor how you have any right to request that information. Sir.
JB: You've still got a mouth on you, huh? Don't know what I expected. You're that street whore we hired, are you not? Of course your mouth would be the most important part.
JM: I'm not sassing you, sir. I'm simply stating my misunderstanding of the situation. If I was woken up in the middle of the night for this, I'd appreciate knowing why I happen to be important enough to question.
JB: You don't need to know that. Simply answer me. What is your relation to Colonel Wilbur R. Cross?
JM: He is- was my friend. Is that all you wanted from me? Can I go now?
JB: Oh, a friend you say? Well you weren't his only friend, and yet you were the only one unharmed yesterday. Why is that?
JM: I don't know, sir.
JB: I'm sure you know something. You went to him first. You could have very well had something to do with the attack.
JM: I would never. I am loyal to this organization above all else. I have been nothing but loyal to you. I swear on my life.
JB: Swearing on a traitor's life doesn't mean much.
JM: I'm not a traitor, you fucking pig! ...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry sir. I'm so sorry.
JB: Board him. He should know how to address his superiors with respect.
JM: Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm sorry...
[Indistinct]
[00:11:56]
JB: Do we have an understanding, Major?
JM: ...yes, sir.
JB: Will you refer to your superiors by anything other than "sir" or "ma'am"?
JM: No, sir.
JB: Good. Now, would you like to truthfully answer my previous question about your relationship to Wilbur Cross?
JM: My apologies, sir, but I thought I already did? We were friends, and then he swore fealty to whatever resides beyond that portal. Now we're not.
JB: I was looking for a concise answer, Major.
JM: Sorry, sir.
JB: Are you telling the truth about your relationship? There was nothing romantic there, no hidden feelings that may have lead to assisting him after he left?
JM: Of course not, sir.
JB: I don't believe you. Tell me the truth, or we'll put you under the water again.
JM: I'm not lying, we had nothing between us except for a friendship and a mentorship. I promise, sir. If we had anything else together, I'd have told you as soon as it occurred.
JB: Alright boys, you know what to do.
JM: No. Please-
[Indistinct]
[00:18:31]
JB: Would you like to tell us anything yet?
JM: I...
JB: Yes? Spit it out.
JM: I was in love with him...
JB: There we go! Look at you, finally admitting something. At least you have some sense.
JM: I swear to you, sir, that just because I was in love with him doesn't mean I would have betrayed PEIP for him.
JB: Well, I don't know if I can trust that. But I'm nice, so here's what I'm going to do. We're going to dose you with something that'll make you more... malleable. You'll be more likely to tell the truth and to cooperate. Don't try to resist, it'll be easier if you let it take effect.
JM: I- yes sir.
[JM dosed with 150 ml sodium thiopental]
JB: How ya feeling, soldier?
JM: 'ired...
JB: Good. Where are you?
JM: Uhhhh... I dunno? Sorry...
JB: Wow, you just fall right under this shit, huh? I bet I could do anything I wanted to you, and you wouldn't even know. Maybe you'd even like it, you slut.
JM: Mhm...
JB: But that's not what we're here for. Tell me the true nature of the relationship between yourself and Colonel Cross.
JM: Uh- righ', Wil. Yes. We'r frens. I love him, he doesn love me. Simmle.
JB: We already got that part. What was your relationship to him after he went through the portal?
JM: Oh, sorr'... I aven seen 'im ince the portal.
JB: So you weren't lying to me, then?
JM: No sir.
JB: Were you in cahoots with any entity from beyond that portal since he entered?
JM: Nosir.
JB: Well, considering I don't think you can lie in this state, I'm going to assume you're telling me the truth. Our apologies for the misunderstanding.
JM: Issok.
JB: There must be something we can do to make this up to you. What would you like?
JM: ...sleep?
JB: Well that sounds very nice. Unfortunately, we can't let you go to sleep until the drug wears off, you see. But I do have an idea of what we can do while we wait. Does that sound nice?
JM: Mhm, sure...
JB: Now, if I asked you to do anything right now, you'd do it. Isn't that right?
JM: Yessir...
JB: Wonderful. You all may leave, I have something to do here. Now, stay still, pretty boy, and open up your mouth.
JM: [Indiscernible slurring. Reminiscent of protests]
[End Transcript 00:32:17]
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winter-spark · 9 months
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Pretty sure that's what happened lol
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lotus-pear · 7 months
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i think you guys are onto smth..
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i unironically got invested in this HELP
#WHERES THE FIC AT IF SOMEONE WRITES THIS I WILL PAY THEM A HUNDRED DOLLARS😭😭#kunikida serving the country while dazai's serving cunt😔#dazai was born to malewife but forced to manipulate and i think that's the greatest tragedy of bsd#anyway some facts i would like to share abt this au thay i came up w while drawing!!#takes place in 1939 (start of wwii) and there was a mandatory draft that required one male over eighteen from each house to serve#both of them are still twenty two and had been engaged for abt two years before getting married that year#newlyweds! unfortunately kuni had to go fight and they were seperated :(#before the war kunikida was a math teacher at the local high school and dazai obviously managed the household and didn't work#he's hopeless at cooking and meal prep even w recipie books so they either get those prepackaged meals or kuni makes dinner when he gets ba#so like when he's making lunch for kunikida he normally just packs a basic sandwich w raw fruit#kunikida always appreciates the effort even tho hes probably sick of having the same thing everyday but he won't complain abt it#when kunikida joined the army he was relieved that the mess hall had better food than dazai#he was the only one in his platoon that never complained abt the food so his fellow soldiers assumed it was bc he came from a tough bg#when in reality he was just used to being poisoned on a daily basis from his dumbass husbands cooking and was hardly fazed from army ration#they write to each other although its more dazai sending and kuni receiving bc hes off fighting and doesnt have time to write back#dazai talks abt life on the homefront and how he has to grow a victory garden (everything is DYING HE CANT EVEN RAISE TOMATOES)#and kuni writes abt his fellow soldiers and how the war is going and when he thinks he'll be home and how he misses sleeping in a bed#ANYWAY yea thought i'd share sry for infodumping in the tags again#this post is for like the four ppl that care abt this specific flavor of knkdz so hopefully this gets four notes at least#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs#dazai osamu#osamu dazai#kunikida doppo#doppo kunikida#kunikidazai#knkdz#lotus draws#bro sry for posting at two in the morning i couldnt sleep until i got this out of my head they have infested my brain
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57sfinest · 1 year
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calling harry a “can opener” was SUCH a good play for so many reasons i think about it every day.
in the context of his work, it makes him a tool. as many people have pointed out, including martin luiga, part of the hdb tragedy is that he simply cannot leave the force, and his superiors know that and are using it to their advantage. no matter what happens, even if harry hated every nanosecond of every bit of the work and wanted to leave, he can’t and won’t leave. they can leverage anything they want against him and then reel him back in with a facade of kindness when they “allow” him to keep his job, as long as he does what they want him to. the 41st knows he has this inexplicable talent with people and they use him for it. he’s a cop: that talent can be used in so many awful ways, to push so many different agendas. and they won’t even be his own. a can opener has no particular desire to open a can, aside from maybe the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose. a can opener has no agency, it’s just a tool for someone else to use to get what they want. and he’s learned to be okay with being used as long as it means he gets to stay. his complacency with this system makes him guilty even if he’s also being harmed by it.
but in the context of his personal life you kind of... flip it. the people around him are going to be opened up whether they want to be or not, and it’s terrible for his relationships. it’s shown that the questions, the prying- the can-opening- it’s become inextricable from who he is as a person. it’s like he doesn’t know how else to communicate, except it’s hardly communication when you’re just ripping people open. he’s invasive as all hell, although whether he means to be is debatable. he’s the kind of person that wants to take things apart to see what makes them tick. he dissects people, but really that’s too delicate of a word for what he does; if he doesn’t get what he wants right up front, he’ll abandon all subtlety and go for brute force. if he can’t get your screws loose he’ll just smash you on the ground and pick through your pieces until he’s satisfied, and if what he did to you isn’t fixable? oh well, there are other cans to open. 
and he’ll use it for personal gain: we already know he is (was?) manipulative. once he knows how you operate, he knows how to make you keep him. he can yell or he can cry; he can threaten you or he can threaten himself; he can be completely suffocating or he can withdraw completely; he can be an incorrigible liar or brutally honest; he can present himself as a threat or a joke or a talent. he’s a chimera- that’s why he’s got this inexplicable magnetism, even when people know they shouldn’t like or trust him. fidelity of character means nothing to him. he’ll be whatever he needs to be as long as it gets him what he wants. the can-opening is just his way in.
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theflyingfeeling · 4 months
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...💌
#not-very-seriously contemplating making a fitalk sideblog#just so i could ramble on about my fic ideas like the lunatic i am without bothering anyone#because istg i come up with at least 3 new ideas a day and more if necessary#but i'm too self-conscious to do that on my main blog too often because i always manage to convince myself no one actually cares#and that the only few people who do seem to care only care because they want to be supportive#and/or think it's cute i'm so passionate about the fics/pairing or whatever#and there's nothing wrong with that and i'm thankful of course!#but it sort of makes me feel like a child being praised by adults ya know? 😭#and idk maybe i just feel like this because i used to share a hyperfixation OTP with a friend#and i'd come up with new fic ideas/headcanons for our OTP on a daily basis#until the friend admitted they weren't even that into the pairing#they just found it adorable to see how enthusiastic i was thinking of stories of them :)#which made me feel like such an idiot lol silly me thought they were as into it as i was#like. i get the need to infodump about hyperfixations to a friend even if the friend is not into the hyperfixation#especially if you don't know anyone else to whom you could talk about it#but i don't need that personally. i'd rather talk about my hyperfixations to someone who actually wants to hear it#and not just because they think i'm being adorable or they want to support me#i can very well keep it all to myself or just idk talk to myself?? lol#so yeahhhh i kinda don't want to make myself feel like a clown like that again 🤡#i do realise i think about fic ideas an unhealthy amount probably lol#but then again isn't that what actual published authors do all the flipping time?! the only difference is that i'm not getting paid for it😤#this wasn't supposed to become a rant lol the words just started flooding#anywayyyyy who wants to hear about my royalty!aleksi / ballet dancer!olli fic idea with side roommates-with-benefits olli/joonas?#additional tags include 'helping the other put on make-up' and 'anal fingering'. if you even care#(pls don't actually ask it's ridiculous)
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dandyshucks · 1 month
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one of the kiddos really loves rabbits and we're not able to really do much for Easter related activities irl so I thought I'd draw them with their favourite rabbit 'mon ... perhaps a gift from Guz,,,,,
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redbootsindoriath · 1 year
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I had a friend come to visit last week, and one evening as we sat around drawing together we decided to both draw that scene where Pippin finds Merry after the battle.  I’ve drawn the scene before but not in a while and I’ve changed the design for both the characters.  And even though I am still getting over that art block from this year I had fun.  (Also that Merry-with-braids post has been doing well lately so I decided maybe I should finish off today’s art dump with this one since he has braids here as well.)
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#merry#pippin#the man the myth the legends#one shiny#my trash#heck yeah bromance#the worst sort of trouble#/end classification tags#you guys i don't know WHY it has been so hard to draw lately and i kind of hate everything i make#but there are elements to each piece that trick me into sharing them#and then i come back and only see the mistakes and then kick myself for sharing it#it's the worst with the commissions because impostor syndrome comes at me for ''charging people money for this garbage''#at this point i'm just ignoring the criticism side of my brain because otherwise i'd never show anybody any drawings#but that does mean i don't fix some of the mistakes that i would have no problem noticing and adjusting otherwise#so apologies for basically everything i've posted this week lol#i am aware of many of the problems with the drawings but am too lazy to fix them#at least this is really the only one i mind because the others were comedy doodles#on a more positive note i keep drawing hobbits with bigger and bigger ears which makes them look more and more unique and charming (i think)#on a neutral note i finally caved to the intrusive thoughts and added fur in the arches of hobbit feet to explain why they walk so quietly#i know it's cursed but nobody minds it on cats and dogs so maybe you guys will let it slide on hobbits too#anyway#so ends the week of activity after months of radio silence#i shall now go back into semi-hibernation and i'll see you guys again whenever fate decides it shall be so
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mitamicah · 2 months
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A few days ago I started thinking about getting a bridge piercing. I have a feeling it might look good on me idk. Since then it is like I have a phantom piercing in my face like I can feel it there grounding me but it is not there: it is all just air.
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haru-chi · 10 months
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The True Identity of Matoba Seiji's sister?
this is something that's been on my mind lately, I may be overthinking this and reading too much into things. I have a crazy theory on my mind so thought I wanna share it before I explode by myself xD
what I have next are from chapters yet to be translated so if you don't wanna be spoiled then don't continue reading :)
before I start I just wanna emphasize all of what I'm gonna say is purely my own theories and ideas, also my Japanese is bad so I might make some mistakes thus if you noticed anything I'd be glad if you can correct me ^^
lastly, I don't know how long this post will turn out to be so sorry in advance ><
-What about Shinobu?
i want to start with this first to clear out the way, of why I don't believe Shinobu to be Seiji's sister. but another twist from Midorikawa-sensei (I mean how many times did she makes us suffer in figuring out the true identity of Seiji's sister for me to trust her easily now)
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she started and ended this chapter in a way that makes you believe that Shinobu is THE miss Matoba but is she really ??
Shinobu said "really? thank you I'm glad to hear that"
is that enough to point out to herself and not to someone she knew perhaps? for example, she knew Seiji's sister or work for her so she's happy to hear someone praise her?
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I really don't trust her since her deep knowledge of the exorcist world means she's not normal therefore she's in it one way or another but in what form I don't know yet, yup yup even her being Seiji's Sister isn't even 0% but I just find it weird and doesn't add up for now for me ...
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I mean she can't even see the Yokai!! (Unless she lied which I doubt) now tell me, is a future leader of the Matoba clan someone who can't see Yokai? we all know what that means for a successor of an exorcist family to lose the sight. plus, if I'm not mistaken, the talk was that Seiji was more powerful than her which's why he was picked over her despite being the youngest so it was not because he was able to see the Yokai unlike her ... in short, his sister should be able to see the Yokai but Shinobu can't!!!
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"a long-haired, elegant well-dressed woman"
and this important detail by Tanuma's investigation worth taking into note, since if the thief is truly Seiji's sister, then that's NOT Shinobu unless you consider Shinobu having a long-hair xDD
so you see now why I don't believe her to be Seiji's true sister (I have other reasons but we'll come up to it next)
-If not Shinobu then who?
now we're back to square one huh, Midorikawa-sensei sure love to torture us in this arc and tease us to no end while making us suffer (which's why I love you tho ~)
before I point out to who I believe to be his sister I wanna point out to something else so you can see my line of thinking :)
listen, I don't know how or why I thought that other than I followed my intuition since I read too much into Seiji's character while thinking and linking things together (this guy is making me go crazy! I'm so sorry I have nothing better to back me up here so bear with me please ><)
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we all know that Seiji doesn't like divination and guess what, I believe the reason of why is that lies with his sister one way or another.
please DON'T ask me why I think so since it's hard to explain without sounding insane xDD
BUT IT'LL MAKE SENSE I PROMISE JUST WAIT FOR IT!!!
I mean this sweet, lovely chapter was in fact a soft set-up for this Miss Matoba arc which thinking about it now let me laugh that Midorikawa-sensei did it to us yet again lol
okay okay, stop this and just tell us who is this Miss Matoba already !!!
now let's review what we believe are hints to Seiji's sister
someone with a blond long hair
someone who should be able to see Yokai but we've yet to know if this person can or can't (meaning someone NOT Shinobu)
Someone who love or do divination (since Seiji hates it)
someone we never get to know their REAL names (again aside from Shinobu)
someone having an interest in anything Yokai related
someone who should be in this arc.
now tell me, does anyone comes to mind maybe ? someone whom for some reason mysteriously disappeared ever since she set foot into the auction perhaps ??
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true, I meant her. Kurara or whatever her name is. no matter which way I slice it she just fit everything in my mind so I just can't help but think she is the REAL Miss Matoba. her disappearing ever since she dropped Natsume isn't really helping her case tbh. she also love and do divination which just so fit with my idea that his sister have something to do with divination which's why he isn't a big fan to that ><
and I said it to a friend, I just won't believe who's Seiji's sister till I see them both facing each other so nope I won't fall for Midorikawa-sensei trap AGAIN!!!
I know this might be far-fetched but I just couldn't stop thinking about it since alot was bothering me and I read into many things too much maybe but I HAD to let it out my chest so yup here you have it <3
-Bonus :Ultra small crazy theory
this one is ... ummm... listen... I know Seiji is making me go crazy and this one I just DON'T have any proof to really back it up like him hating divination because of his sister so just take this with grain of salt ... it just ... I WANTED TO JUST SHARE IT SINCE MY FIREND WAS GONNA KILL ME OF HOW CRAZY I AM TO COME UP WITH THIS !!!!
i mean if I said ... Kuro Misa (Black Misa) might refer to two people will you say I'm going crazy? haha ha ha
Seiji is very handsome indeed, but would you describe him as "doll-like beauty" ?? (you are to me at least, don't worry) not with that eyepatch at least, right ? if there's someone whom I would say is a "doll-like beauty." it would be Kurara.
one line hit me as being weird and my mind went "wait!! is it possible?!! what if ...!!!!" ever since I moved with the line of thoughts that Kurara is Seiji's sister ... umm... it's rumors and I know people never really know much about Kuro Misa ... but certain line felt off to me which was "she was beautiful like a doll" when describing Kuro Misa before we know it was actually Seiji's other hidden identity.
Kuro Misa wear a black veil that no one ever saw her face or have any idea what kind of a person she is, so it won't be far-fetched for people not to notice if it's two different person under the veil.
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and it didn't help my case that this arc started with Kurara like this ... even Natsume thought she was Kuro Misa ><
this brings me to think that, what if Seiji created Kuro Misa in respond to his sister? so that he can keep an eye on her movement or to at least be in the same circle as her. which's why he picked such a character that is so unlike him since he just hate divination so why bother being known as someone famous of such a thing?? (I swear this man deserve all the respect for all the things he just do to protect his clan but no one ever appreciate it T^T)
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Seiji also said that wearing a veil is very helpful since it will help him to recognize the faces of anyone whom tries to come closer to him to uncover his secrets, but what if a hidden/indirect meaning is also that if someone whom thought he was his sister thus come closer to talk to him that would help him recognize his enemies or the people his sister tried to make contact with to let them join her side in her fight against the Matoba clan !!
I know all of this might not make any sense, and as I said this one is just a very crazy theory of mine that won't be true mostly but was fun to think about .. if I hit it close to the truth I'd be very shocked of myself tbh xDD
if you read it to the end I just thank you for bearing with me and my crazy thoughts and theories ~
don't mind my english if it sounded weird or such, not my native language.
If anyone have anything to add or wanna correct anything I'd be glad and happy to hear it, and if you think I'm crazy it's okay xDD
I can't wait for the next chapter to just drop since I'm losing my mind over thinking everything and coming up with crazy thought and theories while waiting ><
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invinciblerodent · 21 days
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oh sometimes i'm overcome with the realization of just how sentimental a bitch i am
like i really am straight up just playing make-believe with these characters like they're digital barbies
okay so in Iona's inventory, i've had this necklace
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since very early in act 1.
it was in Aradin's chest at the Grove, and it was the first thing "we" managed to get with the "I distract them with conversation/busking and you steal everything that isn't nailed down" act/trick I had thought up for her and Astarion. I thought it'd be kinda cute for him to, at the end of this test run, present it with a ~theatrical flourish~ once just out of earshot of its original owner, and for her to ~graciously allow~ him to drape it around her neck, as a hamfisted and silly act of mock-courtship they both know is false. (it was kind of a... "we both know what this is all about and where it's headed, but wouldn't it be fun to play make-believe and pretend it's something entirely different" type of thing.)
I thought it'd be cute, if a touch bittersweet for her to keep it, just slotted away in her little "sentimental items" pouch, like.... next to the dog toy, her old wedding band, and the other useless junk she couldn't bring herself to throw away or sell.
and then today, i found this as I was selling stuff in the Glittering Gala.
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it's the same design. and i like to describe Iona's eyes as "amber" when I write about them (they're kind of a reddish/yellowish, pretty medium brown). and she looks much better in golds and reds than she does in blues and silvers.
so. um.
guess who got this bloody thing "sneaked" into her inventory at the long rest.
if you think i won't 1.) exit a trading screen abruptly, 2.) switch controlled characters, 4.) buy a silly and utterly useless junk item AS that character (thought about just picking her pocket but.... we have 35k gold. why would i.), and 4.) keep it in that character's inventory until it "seems like" the PC isn't "paying attention", and then 5.) drop it into their inventory "unnoticed", all for LITERALLY NO GOOD REASON other than just to act out a silly little gesture and support the little fanfic in my head, well.
you'd be very wrong.
((and i was grinning and giggling downright embarrassingly the whole time too))
#squirrel plays bg3#oc: iona raedir#“astarion isn't the type to do romantic gestures” false#“he does big thoughtful acts of courtship and sweeps the pc off their feet” also false#it is my belief that he isn't the type to do Big Flashy Romantic Things#and is also not the type to be vocal about them#my headcanon is that he'll do the Big Declarations and Theatrical Displays when he's taking the piss in some way#as in he'll joke and play at- and exaggerate courtship when it's all for fun and show and means nothing or very little#but when it's supposed to actually MEAN something; when it's REAL; then the ways he shows love are both small#and done without fanfare or expecting acknowledgement#not even making the slightest effort to keep hands to themselves even in public is fun of course; but the love?#that's in... a pilfered piece of that fruit she likes found randomly in her pack. a swift dagger batting aside a blade meant for her ribs#a small scratch of a pen's tip subtly marking a sweet passage in the book she “borrowed” from him#or in this case; it's something that she found among her things and put on without making a fuss about it#at least not beyond a knowing glance shared; a soft smile exchanged; and her fingers absently fiddling with the stones throughout the day#if she wasn't wearing the guidance-amulet (useful) i'd probably actually equip it on her like i did the silver one for the longest time ngl#because like i said; i'm a sentimental bitch playing make-believe with my little toys
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