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#hope its not too wordy
animalinvestigator · 4 months
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hey! i havent had tumblr for a while but ive been thinking about cathys eldest sister who wants to run away when she turns 18. is she equipped at all to deal with the outside world? all of the kids seem pretty isolated. ty!
hello anonymous -- first of all let me just say, i am really touched that you remembered my story, and even a pretty minor character in it, and remained so interested that you sent this ask even after being away. really it means a lot more to me than i could ever articulate, i was so stunned and happy that you would. i appreciate it a lot. i really hope someday i can make the story real so that you'll be able to have all these answers without tumblr asks, LOL.
which made me think about -- how mysterious do i want to be to make sure everything still stays fresh if i ever do write it , lol. i thought for a bit about this, and i think i can still say plenty of things without giving away any plot beats or information i havent already shared. espescially about the character youre inquiring on ! so: about bridget.
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even though bridget is a side character whose arc plays out largely incidentally in the background of the story, she's definitely the supporting cast member i've thought about most, because she shares a lot in common with catherine, but her motivation to escape is from a completely different perspective, and her approach is entirely different as well because of that.... i'm not sure how much i've talked about catherine's family's history, but they haven't always lived where they live, and they haven't always been as isolated as they are ; bridget is one of the few kids in the family who is old enough to remember a time when she was marginally less secluded from the world, where she was permitted to have relationships among a slightly broader community, instead of having no one and nothing outside of the nuclear family. this, combined with the amount of time she's spent living the way that she does, and the increased responsibility /mistreatment she incurred by being born first, leads her to a feeling that is shared between only her and cathy among her siblings, that something is deeply, implacably wrong with the only world she's ever known, and an abstract need to "run away" as a result.
UNLIKE cathy, bridget has the perspective to know that there does exist a world outside(though she's never been part of it) that she can run away to. because of this, and due to the repertoire she has built up over the years by adequately obeying her parents and avoiding their scrutiny, and her general grew-up-too-fast big sister maturity, she has the increased freedom and general skills she needs to actually enact an escape plan . to get to the meat of your question, though, that definitely does not translate exactly to being able to survive well and easily when she leaves. basically the only thing bridget has ever been is a homemaker, essentially; her days are commanded by the needs of her siblings and the demands of her parents, and there's little room for developing any sense of agency outside of her role as fill-in mother to the younger children in the family. i can't imagine there's anything she even wants to do when she gets out -- she wouldn't have any idea how to want things in the first place -- she has been actively discouraged from learning administrative adult tasks even as mundane as shopping for herself or driving a car out of a desire to keep her subserviant, and she has no safe grown-ups in her life to teach her these skills. she has no education outside of her family's """"homeschooling"""", and when she leaves, she will have no access to her legal paperwork, and no funds or resources whatsoever. which is all to say: bridget knows how to take care of herself and take care of her siblings and take care of her household, but she doesn't know how to be a human being, and she has none of the prerequesites that society would expect from her. even as the /least/ isolated member of the household, she's been completely cut off from any ability to develop as a person, form external relationships, and live without relying on her parents, because that's how catherine's parents maintain their sense of control.
so, the long and short of it is this: the reason that catherine's family is the way it is (and ESPESCIALLY in the case of bridget, whose obedience they rely upon to keep the household running smoothly) is that catherine's parents want to raise adult children, who are simultaneously competent enough to personally benefit the parents in keeping up appearances and in putting in less work themselves, and also so completley reliant on them ideologically, financially, and emotionally that they have no hope of surviving in the outside world. thta's the situation bridget is in when she decides to escape.
that being said, i think she's alright... much like cathy, i try to keep my own ideas for "what happens to this character" private, because i would really like to leave it at "there's no right answer". the main emotion i'm writing this story from is a feeling of lack of closure -- a story where nothing good happens, everyone is worse off at the end, and the main character is left all alone with her memories, wondering for the rest of her life if any of it even happened, not knowing if anything turned out okay, and having to carve out a place to live in that painful ambiguity... that being said, my hope for my own characters is that they'll have a happy ending in the audience's head.. and i feel like i can strongly picture bridget living in a big city somewhere very far away long after catherine's story ends, coming home after work to a tiny , mostly empty apartment, her own space, and thinking for the first time that she can finally breathe.
thank you so much again for your inquiry <3
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dandelion-roots · 5 months
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[ID: a digital redraw of the scene where chuuya shoots dazai in the shoulder. on the top of the drawing is chuuya holding a guy to dazai's head in the red and grey hallways of the prison. on the bottom of the drawing is dazai's pained face. the gunshot is shown stylistically as hectic lines behind his bloody shoulder. over the image is half a quote from goncharov that reads 'if we really were in love you wouldn't have missed.' the signature says dandelion-roots. end ID]
This quote from Goncharov (1973) in relation to soukoku has been haunting me from before I even got to that scene in the anime (the full thing is: Katya- Of course we're in love, that's why I tried to shoot you/ Goncharov- If we really were in love you wouldn't have missed). Violence as a tool for communicating emotions, especially love and hatred, especially love and hatred makes me go feral- how could I not think of the iconic quote that says that katya's miss was a sign of a lack of love/a fake love when chuuya didn't miss? Just... losing it over here.
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strawglicks · 7 months
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GRAHAM PAYSER IS INSECURE AS HELL
So ive been thinking abt this for some time and i decided i needed to make a post about it bc people were SHOCKED when i pointed it out and like. Is this new???? I thought it was obvious . But if its not, thats what this post is for <3
heres why grahams super insecure actually
Need for Validation
So graham needs attention and validation from other people NONSTOP.
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from asking flint to validate everything he just said
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to waking up cathal so they'll agree with him
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to just seeking people's attention in general.
He cannot just be content with himself on his own, he needs other people to constantly reassure him that he’s right. He claims to be confident but isn’t satisfied with just himself, he needs other people to fill that void
Projecting
The ending cutscene is the biggest case of Graham projecting onto other people AND one of the biggest points where his insecurity shows.
He is EXHAUSTED from his own fight but he can't handle the failure, so he flips everything he's feeling onto the toons instead.
He spends this whole cutscene realizing he's lost and DESPERATELY trying to cover it up because he can't admit defeat, which reeks of insecurity by itself.
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It opens with him realizing he's lost and immediately trying to cover up the fact he's upset about it.
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He tries to flip the situation and make it seem like the toons lost the fight and puts them down for it because he doesn't want to put HIMSELF down. He doesn't even allow himself to fail, he has to be perfect.
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He also straight up lies here. Graham was putting his ALL into this fight, proven by how he collapses from exhaustion at the end. There are no other forms, he wasn't getting started. He was trying his very best and still failed and that destroys him. Again, he can't handle the failure so he just. Lies at this part.
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More projecting and trying to make it out as if the toons lost . He himself desperately needs a breather because he burned himself out, but again, he can't handle that fact because he's desperate to be perfect.
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Not the ending cutscene but another point worth mentioning in terms of projecting. He brags about burning out the toons yet has a habit of burning HIMSELF out.
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The fact he collapses at the end of his fight means he overworks himself to the absolute limits in desperation to be the best. If he's really so great, he shouldn't have to try so hard to prove it. Which brings me to the next point
Trying Too Hard
Someone who is genuinely content with themselves shouldn’t feel like they have to PROVE they are content, yet that’s what Graham constantly does. He is always trying so hard and putting on a show for the people around him to PROVE that he’s confident.
Someone who feels good about themselves shouldn’t have to shove that fact down everyone’s throats. This drives back to the validation point in which he needs people to pay attention to and validate him.
Fantasizing About Success
Graham obsesses over a better version of himself despite claiming to be so confident with who he is currently.
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He's not satisfied with where he currently stands. He craves more power, attention and success because he is insecure with where he is now. There's no reason for someone so supposedly confident and perfect to be chasing after a better version of themselves.
Can't Admit Failures
Touched on this earlier with the projecting. Graham insists he's perfect and anytime he fails it immediately makes him panic. Someone who's happy and content with themselves should also be able to accept their flaws, but that's not what Graham does.
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When his position for the job is threatened, he immediately loses it.
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When he loses his fight, he immediately scrambles for excuses and some way to put himself back on top.
Graham may have a huge ego, but it's a fragile one at that.
Graham’s confidence is a facade. This isn't to say he's doing it intentionally; I honestly think he isn't even aware of his insecurity and genuinely believes he is confident and above others. But people like Graham will often obsess over the IDEA of being confident and above others because they lack it in reality. It’s not just a facade to convince others he’s on top, it’s also to convince HIMSELF he’s on top.
TLDR; oh hes a little fucked up actually.
To finish this off u can have this image i made the other day featuring one of my fav Grahams ive ever drawn LMAO
It pretty much repeats what’s already been said
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fuckit-hero-of-trains · 9 months
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writing something with verbose descriptions and poetic devices because vio is the pov character. call that purple prose.
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zebrafiz · 1 year
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looking for love 🌅👒 | a bachelorette challenge
with gracie loveland!
meet gracie (she/her)
twenty-four | bisexual | dog lover | foodie | insightful
after six years of helping her grandmother tend to her farm, gracie often finds herself yearning for a life of her own and someone to share it with… not that she doesn’t love the woman who raised her, no, of course not. it’s just… she thinks it may be time to ditch the cow manure and rude roosters and live her own life independent of what others expect from her. the best way to do that, it seems, is to randomly drop everything and become the main star of a bachelorette challenge tv show to find her one true partner.
likes
her dogs (violet & coco)
sunlight
sensitive, caring people
gardening
emerald green
dislikes
hot stoves
thunderstorms
salty foods
brashness, arrogance
1950s music
fun facts!
> gracie was raised by her grandmother
> she loves rescuing dogs! violet is a rescue pit :p
> she tends to be somewhat of a people pleaser, to her own detriment
> she dreams of living in tartosa
> gracie has only ever been in one serious relationship
gracie is looking for someone to settle down with…
will you be the one…?
entry guidelines
young adult / adults only! preferably young adults though seeing as gracie herself is still quite young
no in-game occults but other than that, go wild (meaning you could make an alien or a sim with a colorful skin tone, just not an alien in-game. things like that)
any gender!
cannot have the romantic or unflirty trait
maxis match or maxis mix! but i may alter some minor details like skin overlays and such to match my game
pleaseeee give them a story of their own! it doesn’t have to be anything expansive or novel-worthy but something that gives me a good grasp on the sim :-) you can include likes and dislikes or skills to build on this as well
you can submit under #graciesBC or #lookingforloveland! feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions!
i’ll leave this open until valentine’s day, february 14th :-) 
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todayisafridaynight · 9 months
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[General fic with undertones of Masadai, very-minutely implied past Minedai. Ryo Aoki, Daigo Dojima]
[POST-YAKUZA 4] Daigo always knew running the Tojo Clan would never be easy, it's why he made every attempt to dodge such a responsibility. With the latest disaster only now starting to fade from Kamurocho's memory, the inadequacy he felt only exemplified: he should have never been given this position. For years, the men he was supposed to look after had discouraged his election, dubbing him too immature and naive to run the Clan. It was hard to find anyone to understand him- it was hard to find any breath of fresh air in such a suffocating ocean of discord, leaving him to wonder if there was any point to continuing down this path. Though, once he realized the buoy of his woes took the form of his troublesome ex, perhaps he would have preferred to just drown in the murky water. Instead, he was left with the unfortunate reality that Ryo Aoki had a remarkable way with words and making him feel understood. He would struggle to remember it was never a good thing when Aoki was playing nice...
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13eyond13 · 2 months
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#here's some of the classics on that list i have beef with btw:#i have tried to read A Confederacy of Dunces several times and it's funny but it's also so cringe and Ignatius is so obnoxious#that i find it too difficult to finish like i just feel depressed and bad for everybody around him too much#i tried reading Infinite Jest like a decade ago and i got like 200 pages in and i remember thinking it felt like#such a slog the entire time because he's just so gd wordy and also i stopped liking DFW after i heard the abuse allegations against him#frankenstein i didnt read that long ago but i just remember finding it so boring for some reason?? i feel i might need to read it again#dracula ngl i feel like im cheating a bit saying ive completely read it because i loved the beginning and then HATED so much of the rest#the characters were just so boring and melodramatic hahaha i just liked the part where jonathan was doing a travel diary#and trapped in the castle tbh and after that i skimmed quite a bit#i almost flipped my shit when i saw ender's game on there because I ALWAYS mix it up with ready player one by ernest cline#which i bought the audiobook of a while back and hated every minute of it i dont think its good at all#but it wasnt that so phew my faith in this list is somewhat restored#i read most of the first game of thrones book and was disappointed tbh maybe because id seen the show already#so i was like 'this feels almost exactly the same except worse?' because i'd been expecting it to give me more depth and insight#into the characters but instead it felt exactly the same and i still didnt love any of the characters enough to feel attached to them#also i am fully aware me not personally liking or vibing with a book doesnt mean it doesnt deserve to be considered great btw#but i think if youre gonna be like me and force yourself to go through a bunch of lists like this very seriously then you also need to just#let yourself be like 'yeah not for me' without feeling too bad about it sometimes too#often times i dont particularly love the classics or 'important books' but at the same time#i still feel like im getting more out of reading them than just grabbing the newest hyped up books that also dont do anything for me#maybe not in a 'wow i loved reading this' way but in like a#'i now have first-hand knowledge of this thing that is so influential / so frequently referenced'#or 'this challenged me and i feel like i did a mental/emotional workout or gave me some new food for thought'#or 'made me more aware of what gaps in my knowledge and reading skills and what my tastes are too'#sort of way...#it really just depends on what you're reading for and why and what you're hoping to get out of it a lot of the time maybe#it's like the homework i give myself to go through these lists that i also intersperse with the stuff i read more just for fun#p
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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months
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🫶 thanks for responding back! i appreciate all the hard work you’ve planned out for us 🎉 i can’t wait to see more of the darker themes fleshed out at the end of the first part, i will be waiting patiently LOL 👍 in terms of yandere, how bad do you think it will be? what do you have planned in that department?
also i hope you get better soon 😅 please take breaks and certainly take your time!
well ive said that its very mild on the yandere side even later on in the slowburn. its barely yandere more, like... obsession??... at least for the first while. the yandere part is more just there as a warning because I don't want to shock people with the small bit of dark content there will be. i really don't like yanderes that hurt reader (they just don't make sense to me. yandere to me is about having too much love, and you wouldn't hurt someone you loved??) and like,,,, spoiler cut here but like, these are all things that are in the tags/warnings/just information around
i need happy endings. i cant handle even the slightest bit bitter ending it hurts me physically. i am writing a happy ending. it will take grovelling, compromise, and probably fixing the universe but idc. i will uncritically romanticise toxic relationships. i can fix him he can fix me we will fix ourselves for each other. THATS ROMANCE BABEY!!! ITS BEING YOUR BEST SELF BECAUSE YOU LOVE SOMEONE!!! AND YANDERE IS ABOUT LOVE. ITS ABOUT LOVE!!!! ALWAYS LVOE!!!!
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izanori · 1 year
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Shinkirou (蜃気楼) by Rouage - English + Romaji + Japanese Lyrics
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from their single 月の素顔 (Tsuki no Sugao, or The Moon's Bare Face), released 1997
English
Since I don't have a thing I'm looking for something Since I can't see a thing I want to see something
While unable to break free The hours slip away I loved too much in the gaps between my fingers After the precious moment
There are things That can't become beautiful The thing tired of smiling reflected in the mirror Is my face Holding me together You, standing still With your moist fingertip, Layer colors onto my thirsty self
Close your... When you fall into a dream There's a hectic, slippery vertigo Entrust your entire heart in it's care So that you don't lose anything
Since I can't remember I'm looking for the words I was filling the gaps In the middle of my astray body and soul
There are things That can't become beautiful The sound of scattered footsteps resounds Layering colors onto the night
Close your... When you fall into a dream There's a hectic, slippery vertigo Entrust your entire heart in it's care So that you don't lose anything So that you don't lose anything
Close your... When you fall into a dream There's a hectic, slippery vertigo Entrust your entire heart in it's care So that you don't lose anything
Close your... When you fall into a dream There's a hectic, swaying mirage Gently close your eyes So that you don't lose anything Close your... When you fall into a dream There's a swaying mirage soon to fall apart
Close your eyes and my ache So that at the end of the long dream You won't lose anything
~ Sole translation note: Where I wrote "beautiful," you could also say "clean." I'm not sure what sounds better or is more likely to be meant, since the song describes nothing else as ugly or dirty to contrast with those lines.
Romaji
nani hitotsu nai kara nani ka wo sagashite nani mo mienai kara nani ka wo mitakute
nuge dasenai mama de surinuketeku toki tachi yubi no sukima ni wa itoshisugita taisetsu na shunkan no ato ni
kirei ni narenai mono ga aru warai tsukareta kagami ni utsuru boku no kao ga
tsunagi tometeru kimi wa soko de tachi tomatta mama usunda yubisaki de kawaita boku ni iro wo kasanete
close your yume ni ochitara memagurushiku suberu memai ni kokoro goto azukete nani mo nakusanai you ni
omoidasenai kara kotoba wo sagashite sukima no umeteita haguresou na karada to kokoro no tochuu
kirei ni narenai mono ga aru barabara no ashi oto ga hibiku yoru ni iro wo kasanete
close your yume ni ochitara memagurushiku suberu memai ni kokoro goto azukete nani mo nakusanai you ni nani mo nakusanai you ni
close your yume ni ochitara memagurushiku suberu memai ni kokoro goto azukete nani mo nakusanai you ni
close your yume ni ochitara memagurushiku yureru shinkirou sotto me wo tojite nani mo nakusanai you ni
close your yume ni ochitara kowaresou ni yureru shinkirou
close your eyes and my ache nagai yume no owari ni nani mo nakusanai you ni
Japanese (credit)
何ひとつ ないから 何かを探して
何も見えないから 何かを見たくて
ぬげだせないままで すりぬけてく 「時間」 達
指の隙間には 愛しすぎた 大切な 「時」 の後に
奇麗になれない ものがある
笑い疲れた 鏡に映る 僕の顔が
繋ぎとめてる きみはそこで 立ち止まったまま
潤んだ指先で 渇いた僕に 色を重ねて
Close your… 夢におちたら めまぐるしく すべる めまいに
ココロごと預けて 何も失くさないように
想い出せないから 言葉を探して
隙間を埋めていた はぐれそうな 身体とココロの途中
奇麗になれない ものがある
ばらばらの 足音が響く 夜に色を重ねて
Close your… 夢におちたら めまぐるしく すべる めまいに
ココロごと預けて 何も失くさないように 何も失くさないように
Close your… 夢におちたら めま���るしく すべる めまいに
ココロごと預けて 何も失くさないように
Close your… 夢におちたら めまぐるしく ゆれる蜃気楼
そっと目を閉じて 何も失くさないように
Close your… 夢におちたら 壊れそうに ゆれる蜃気楼
Close your eyes and my ache 永い夢の終わりに 何も失くさないように
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arimabari · 2 years
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Omgggggg if you make Maybeth fanfiction I will read the shit out of it B L E A S E
omg STOP I didn't think anyone would actually want to read something like that sdkljgsl you're so incredibly sweet thank youu ;w;
I wrote the smallest snippet of a prologue last night so here u go I'll give you this for now and use this message as an incentive to finish it:
26th of Last Seed, 3E 433
The minstrels were playing her favorite song. Again.
Ladies gathered to the dance floor like clucking hens to a corn pile, reaching for golden bells that clicked and chimed with the slightest flick of a hand. Maybeth had half a mind to join them in their mirth, a longing which graced her thoughts for half a second before vanishing entirely. She loathed to give her husband the satisfaction. 
Even now she felt his penetrating gaze upon her, watching, waiting for her to take that first step. Geldall might have hoped that the familiar tune would coax her into dance, that if he commanded his minstrels to play it one more time, her resolve would snap - and finally, finally, she would bend to his will. Some of less cunning wit would view this desperate act as mere concern, a desire to see his wife happy and fulfilled on the day which marked their ninth anniversary.
But like a child who doesn’t get his way, Geldall was throwing a fit - in the most cordial and polite manner possible, perhaps, but a fit it was nevertheless. Indeed how kind, how doting he was that he should know her favorite song, let alone play it twice for her pleasure! And here she was, deliberately ignoring his affections out of sheer pettiness and spite. Oh woe is Prince Geldall, a good husband scorned. However shall he recover?
“Gods give me strength that I not throttle our prince in public.” Maybeth muttered into her half-empty cup, coaxing yet another bitter taste of wine down her throat. 
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luvvyouforever · 1 month
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exclusively yours - sdv harvey x reader!
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-> synopsis: harvey realizes some things about himself and one of those is that he can't stand it when other people look at what's his.
-> warning: NSFW MDNI MDNI MDNI SMUT! jealous harvey mhm. a touch of dom harvey what can i say. slight shane slander nothing too mean. a bit wordy. you've been warned.
-> a/n: i hope you all enjoy! i wrote this whenever i had time free over the course of a week when i should be doing homework.
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there's a rare fire in his eyes that night at the stardrop saloon. he's not sure what it is that he's feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knows for certain that he doesn't like the way shane's eyes rake over your flower dance dress that you had been wearing since this morning when you danced with the doctor, and not shane.
he's reminding himself of the ring on your finger, the farm that you live in together, the bouquets you've gifted him, the necklace that took ages to procure because the weather had to be just right. and yet, none of that is easing the jealousy threatening to bubble up over the surface.
the lust in shane's gaze becomes even more apparent as the crowd dwindles. he's talking to you and harvey can barely make out the words coming out of his mouth, but then there's a touch to your elbow that was well-timed to come after a joke you just made, and now harvey is striding over, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulders to stare at shane.
"what was so funny?" he asks and the interested inflection in his tone is entirely fake. "i know my wife has such a keen sense of humor, doesn't she?" you don't miss the emphasis he puts on 'wife.'
shane's grown awkward now, and he shifts hsi weight from one foot to the next. he's been caught and there's nothing much he can do to salvage this situation. "yeah, uh, she just made a joke about summer. nothing serious. sorry," he stumbles out.
"mhm, yeah. so, we'll see you around?" harvey says which effectively ends the conversation and forces shane back into the booth he was originally sitting down in. with a breath of relaxation, he turns to you with a different kind of fire in his eyes. one that makes you shiver with palpable excitement. "ready to go home?"
you nod and his hand moves from your shoulder down to the small of your back to give you just a slight push away from prying eyes and out the door of the saloon.
neither of you speak on the way home and it feels like even the nature around you is holding its breath in anticipation of what will happen when the door to your farmhouse swings open. the farmhouse becomes visible in the distance and there's a sudden weakness in your legs. subconciously, both you and harvey pick up speed until you find yourself speed-walking to the front door.
he wastes no time in pulling keys from his pocket and unlocking the door and, ever the gentleman, letting you go in first.
once he shuts the door behind him, his hand immediately finds the small of your back again and you feel your body inch closer to the bedroom. anticipation grows and grows until your back is leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom and harvey's stature is looming over yours.
this is new, this is unexplored, this is uncharted territory. harvey had never once been anything other than unadulterated sweetness in the bedroom. he cared about your pleasure, your comfort, and your enjoyment more than anything. but now there was something calling to him to give into this urge building in the pit of his stomach.
harvey's hand crawls from its position by his side, up the curves of your stomach, then stops at the base of your head. a soft gesture tilts your chin upwards so you're looking directly into his brown eyes. you feel small underneath his intense gaze, but it's certainly not a bad feeling.
"you know," he begins with a breath, "i've never considered myself a jealous person." you bite your lip in anticipation, feeling warmth grow from your core and radiate outwards. "but...the way shane was looking at you tonight...i think we just need a small reminder about who you belong with."
there was so much intensity behind his words despite them coming out in a soft drawl. you could have buckled right there on the doorframe but his body was caging you in so that there was no way you'd fall.
with a breath and a swallow, your hand travels from your side to his waist. "then remind me," you tease.
harvey's eyes darken and something about this excited you to no end. his strong hands bring you close to his chest and his lips hurriedly meet yours. they intertwine in a mess, teeth clashing, tongues bumping, but it sets your entire body alight. with ease, harvey inches you away from the doorframe and to the bed where you fall down onto the soft mattress. the white dress on your body falls around your waist, revealing the underwear you had on.
then, harvey growled. like truly, really growled as if something had took over him in these few seconds. he had been suppressing this urge to be with you intensely for fear of hurting you or embarrassing himself. but he's spurred on by your moans and the heat he feels radiating from between your legs.
after making out so roughly that your lips are left feeling numb, harvey's hands travel down your body, stopping at the hem of your underwear. with a strong tug, he pulls you to the edge of the bed and sits on his knees in front of you. he'd regret placing so much pressure on his aging knees in the morning, but that didn't matter now. what mattered now was making you cum to the point that you are unable to think of another man but him.
without much warning, harvey's mouth met your core. you threw your head back to the bed, letting out a moan that made you glad you lived so far from any other person. he was like a man possessed, seeking some salvation in the wetness growing and growing in between your legs.
he pulled away, but not for long as his fingers gripped the hem of your underwear and slid them down your thighs, calfs, and off your feet. for a second, he sat on his knees, marveling at your pleasure and whispered, "you must really like this, huh?"
his voice was laced with lust and darkness. before you could even respond, his mouth met your middle again and every part of your body lurched forward, in awe of the pleasure he was giving you. there was a coil in the pit of your stomach that was growing, wounding around itself, tightening with every stroke of harvey's tongue against you.
"harv! fuck!" you managed to choke out. you could feel his lips tilt upward in a smile, and just when you thought there was no possible way it could get better than this, his finger teased at your hole before plunging in. harvey's anatomical knowledge guided his finger upward, curling up to the spot that sends you reeling.
his name was a prayer on your lips as that coil tightened till the point you think it might snap. you could no longer hold it when harvey added in a second finger, curling both upwards and creating a pressure that pulled the coil till it all fell apart. you were a mess, hair sprawled on the comforter, dress halfway up your body, wetness dripping from harvey's fingers.
he leans back on his knees, eyes blown wide with lust. his lips glisten and his carefully groomed hair and mustache are destroyed. he's breathing heavily, but he didn't stop his frenzy there. with rushed movements, he tugs off his tie, his button down, his undershirt till there was nothing adorning his body.
"need this off," he mumbles, pulling at the hem of your dress. you come out of your daze to rise up and slide the dress off your body. "jesus...," he whispers. he rises from his spot on the floor and gestures for you to scoot up to the bed. slowly, his body comes over yours and once again you become caged in his grip and his scent. "do i tell you that you're beautiful enough? because if i don't i need some sense slapped into me."
heat floods in your cheeks at his words. harvey, ever the kind gentleman, was a whole other person entirely. for a second, you wonder if you could tease more possessiveness out of him. he was already delirious with pleasure. what could a little more hurt?
"i'm glad you think so too, dr. harvey. shane really thinks i'm the best looking person in this whole town," you say with a smirk tilting your lips upward.
that fire reignites in his eyes again. in seconds, his hands come to your wrists and you feel pinned against the bed. his chest is rising and falling with intensity.
"if i hear another man's name on your lips tonight, you're getting it," he threatens.
and, because you can, you push him further. "shane. alex. sam. sebastian. lew-"
in a renewed sense of dominance, harvey clamps his hand over your mouth, effectively cutting you off. "i don't think you'll be able to talk when i'm done with you," he says, voice just slightly above a whisper.
"prove it," you whisper back.
harvey smiles with something sinister lurking beneath the service. he stands from the bed, eyes never leaving yours and tugs off his belt, then his pants. with no flourish, his length comes out, irresistibly hard from the night's activities. he climbs back on top of you, settling his center in front of yours. he's barely touching your core but it's sending you arching upwards.
"i don't think shane could manage making you feel this good, you know?" he teases your entrance. "i mean, if you'd like to try, go ahead, but you'll come back to me crying because he can't make you cum like this." slowly, he slides himself in. you let out an unearthly moan that is met with his own grunts. "you're all mine. no one else's." he fully enters you then, hitting as far back as he could manage.
he drags himself out, then slowly enters back in. it's torturous. horrible. so awfully frustrating.
"please, harv. more!" you beg. he kept up his slow pace, barely budging. "need you more." you sound just as pathetic as you feel.
"can shane make you feel this good?" he asks.
so that's what he wanted from you. "no!" you plead.
"are you all mine, then?"
"yes, all yours!"
"exclusively mine?"
"exclusively yours!"
at those final words, harvey fucks into you again with a quicker, rougher pace. this was what you needed more than air. your hands fly to his arms where your nails dig into the skin there. he would wake up with marks that remind him of the night, but maybe that was your purpose in doing so.
harvey is stretching you out in the most perfect of ways and the closeness of his body to yours sends shivers all over you. his hands are desperately clinging to every part of your exposed skin and his chest rises quickly in attempts to catch his breath. nothing could stop him from his actions right now. all he can focus on is the way you feel so tight around him, the way you're moaning his name, and the way he has to hold in his orgasm until you've came all over him.
which isn't too far away. it's building with every deep, powerful thrust he makes. he's hitting spots inside of you that he hadn't before. it's blissful, filthy, and perfect. in the middle of your ecstacy, you make a note to draw out harvey's jealous side more.
"fuck," he grunts out. it's so strange to hear such filthy language coming from your husband who balked any time you said swear words. "you're so fucking tight for me, huh?"
his dirty words pull out a loud moan from you which seemed to spur harvey on even further. his thrusts lost their rhythm and his breath became rapid. he was close and so were you. with urgent moves, you wrap your legs around his waist which sends his length inside of you as deep as it can go. your eyes meet with a silent agreement.
your moans mingle together, filling the room with lewd noises. your name is repeated over and over again until the moment you both feel that release toppling over the edge, filling your bodies head to toe with pure bliss. his body doesn't still, but instead he returns to the slow pace he began with, pumping his cum deep inside you.
after some breaths and stilled movements, he pulls out with a slick noise and falls to your side. his arms open up in a silent request for you to lay on his chest and you oblige. the bed is destroyed, your bodies are sweaty, and there's certainly something leaking out of you onto the sheets. but sheets can be washed, beds can be made, and showers can be had.
all that matters is that you were exclusively his, and shane could never make you feel like that.
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duckimate · 2 months
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GRUMBO WEEK DAY 3 - " Nightmare " @grumboweek
"read more" at your own discretion. messy+wordy explanation of the concept coming:) .
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pardon me for being late but i really couldn't stand leaving this looking unfinished so. had to spend a bittt more time on it (might even post for grumbo week even after the event's over if thats okay!!)
we all got over the progression from their friendship to their betrayal of eachother in Last Life too soon. i need people to mourn with me
"Nightmare" made my mind immediately jump to the series that waffle duo really got their share of angst from, Last Life. How an unbreakable bond of friendship strengthened by literally passing eachother something as valuable as a life so quickly crumbled into them both betraying eachother in the end, a Nightmare scenario that the two of them would've never even considered for sure. even grian, who upon turning red was still clinging onto the hope that their bond was so strong that mumbo would join him as a redname. (concept) even red mumbo, who in his last ditch desperation tried reigniting post-red yellow life grian's humanity by giving him the spyglass, the southlander's physical embodiment of their friendship, only for grian to crush it mercilessly ,,,,,,,,,
anyway for this piece i tried real hard to cram in as much symbolism and imagery and intent behind my lines and colors as possible, so heres some of it! (theres more but thats on you to figure out!)
Composition + just some of the details : the main concept that i really wanted to drive home is the use of the SPYGLASS as symbolism for the progression of their bond throughout Last life, up until the end. yellow-side grian holds up a spyglass, looking towards the right
day4 past and future concepts ahead the spyglass extends through the past to the present, like a solid line of sight into the future before its unfortunately crushed by red-side grian (him shutting down any friendship or reconciliation from mumbo) mumbo, back against the future, faced twoards the past, reaching his spyglass out looking for who his friend was, only to see a cracked figure of him staring back grian, faced towards the future in both drawings, but also looking back at mumbo, with different emotions but both with the same desire to move forward, one with adoration and another with the desire to move on from mumbo's dead body and focus on self-preservation. he knew he had to move on, and he was right.
SOUTHLANDERS BADGE: mostly for visual interest! but also unlike the spyglass, is an unremovable physical reminder for post-red grian (literally lodged deep into his shoulder)
CLIPPED WINGS: i felt like i had to mention that they're supposed to look clipped in the second drawing:) "HE NEEDS TO LEARN" was a real quote that was directed at both jimmy and mumbo, but we gotta adapt pfft ,,, this post is long. LOng long. i should stop. special SPECIAL thanks to my dearest @justrelaxhere for their hours worth of dissection of my drawing! god i could always count on them to squeeze every drop of symbolism out of my work. without them i wouldn'tve been able to fully articulate my ideas! okay thanks for reading people:D
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504py · 2 months
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In Ink, Unsaid - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader
Your knight is appointed to tutor you, and he falls asleep during your lesson. It leads to a cute interaction involving his hair.
hell yeah finally got this out!! this one's a lot longer than the first part, i pray it ain't too wordy LOL. once again art by me and hope y'all enjoy!!
Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, mutual pining, almost a Leon character study. It's a little more romantic this time.
1, 2, 3
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You don't think you've ever seen Leon make a mistake. It unsettles you a little, how much composure and perfection he seems to uphold. You tend to watch him a lot because of it, growing a strange compulsion to always have your eyes on him.
Whenever you see him through a window while passing by, the sight of him slows you down a bit before you continue on your way. Whenever he walks past the room you're in, your eyes dart to his figure on impulse, trying to take in as much information as you can before he's out of your sight. Leon walks too fast, you find yourself thinking a lot.
Paradoxically, when you're close enough to actually see his face, you find yourself unable to look at him. You try to, but he's already staring at you, and he never looks away first, so you do. Whenever you look at him, his eyebrows raise slightly, like he thinks you want something from him when you do. The pressure from it is surprisingly crushing, so you simply cannot imagine holding eye contact with Leon for more than two seconds.
This strange fascination of yours with your new knight has materialized itself in the form of behaviors that might align themselves with a stalker's. You've drunken in all the little details about him. You recognize the sound of his footsteps, the dent in his left vambrace, since he tends to guard his body with that arm, and the moles on his knuckles. Since you can't look at his face when he's actually near you, you've taken to staring at his hands or his feet. He rarely ever shifts his weight between each leg, even if he's been standing for a long time. It makes you more conscious of how you carry yourself... Speaking of posture, he tends to tilt his head to the right slightly when he rests.
Rest and any of its synonyms are words you'd rarely use to describe anything related to Leon. The most you'd seen him do something as relaxed as resting, was that night he sat by your bed till the thunderstorm passed.
So how do you know his habits when he rests? Shockingly, he's doing it right now, in front of you, during your first tutoring session together.
His eyes were rather bloodshot and dull when he entered the library, a feigned intensity in them like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't tired. He knows you notice, but you don't ask about it, and he seems to be glad you did.
"...This arrangement is rather unorthodox, is it not?" You ask as he sits down across from you.
Leon puffs out a little breath, not enough to be a sigh, but noticeable enough. You are unsure if it is out of annoyance.
"I suppose so, my lady, but your mother was the one who appointed me to tutor you today."
You frown a little. It's not like you disliked Leon at all, but you tend to find him a little too... tense to be around. He seems so structured and confident and it makes you afraid to make mistakes around him... Besides that, he's got a really intense stare that doesn't fare well with your nervous composition.
"...Do you dislike having me as your tutor, my lady?" He queries, the faintest hint of doubt and dejection in his voice.
"I–" You try to start, but he cuts you off, "It's not meant to be taken in any personal manner, my lady, but..." He takes in a sharp inhale, realizing he interrupted you and maybe stepped over a line. Leon pauses and watches you carefully, waiting to see if your expression will contort or if you'll start to reprimand him.
...You just avert your eyes, so he continues.
"Perhaps you'd fare better with someone you were more comfortable with... my lady."
You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm rather alright, Sir Leon. I apologize for complaining."
"Forgive me for pushing, my lady, but you always feel rather tense around me. Is that for any particular reason? Perhaps I could help."
"I, uh..." Your gaze falls to your lap, "I'm just not sure why mother chose you. Your schedule is rather full as it is, is it not, Sir Leon?"
"Well, I can promise you I'm very well-educated, my lady." He says, but as he observes, it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves.
"...Spending more time with you is always a pleasure to me, my lady. I promise that to you too."
That wrinkle between your eyebrows soften, and your shoulders drop.
Leon does surprisingly well as a tutor. You suppose it's because of his rugged impression that you thought the opposite, but even the way he speaks is well-constructed and seems to have been planned in advance.
If your mother had never appointed Leon as your tutor today, you'd never have really noticed how calming his voice can be. Whenever he's spoken, it always sounded like a command, even if he's trying his best to be respectful. His voice usually comes off too strong, too deep in his chest, too loud sometimes, too much authority. Usually you tend to shrink in your skin a little whenever he speaks, but now, he sounds so relaxed that you feel like he could lull you to sleep at any moment.
Ah– it seems he's beat you to the chase, though.
It took you a little too long to notice, but Leon has fallen asleep in front of you, cheek resting against his right fist and his left hand still resting on the book's page.
You freeze up, not wanting to do anything that'd wake him up. You understand that a tutor falling asleep in front of a student would be highly inappropriate, but you still felt that it would be rude to wake him. Is he a light sleeper? You wonder how exhausted he must be to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable situation, and it makes your heart ache.
He's breathing lightly, you wait a bit, see if he'll wake up on his own. Maybe it's just your own excuse to watch him while you can.
His eyelashes are a lot longer than you thought, and you don't think you've ever seen him without that crease between his brows, and an almost-scowl on his lips. Leon's hair was of a color and style that confused you. Some days it felt brown, sometimes it was blond, or something in between. You've convinced yourself it depended on his mood or the weather. As for the length... the fringe always seemed to obscure his eyes slightly, so you've always wondered why he didn't just cut it. Especially when he wears his helmet, and he makes a bit of a fuss when his bangs get pinned underneath his visor.
Unconsciously, you've been reaching forward to brush away the strand of hair hanging in front of his nose, hoping to get a better look of his face.
Leon's eyes flutter open, his pupils adjusting to the light before they dilate as they settle on you. Your arm flinches back to your side.
He mumbles your name, intimately, no honorifics or titles, and your face warms.
"I– Leon– Sir Leon, hello," You breathe out shakily, "You fell asleep."
The message takes a few seconds to reach his just-woken-up brain, before his eyes widen and he immediately sits up properly.
Words come spilling out of his mouth, this is the first time you've seen him stutter. "I'm so sorry– I'm incredibly sorry, my lady, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, I don't know why I dared to do such a thing, and why I keep making mistakes today–"
"Leon."
He bites on his tongue and his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at you.
"...It's alright, I promise."
The tips of his ears are a bright red, and that same flush seems to be creeping up from under his shirt collar to his neck. He takes in a few deep breaths, and he looks unsure. This is the second time you've seen him wear this look now. He takes in a deep breath.
"I... I apologize, my lady." He bows his head towards you. The roots of his hair were a deeper brown compared to the rest of his locks. You wonder if he's not even a real blond. Perhaps hours of staying under the sun lightened his hair.
You space out staring at him, and Leon straightens his neck. He can't recall maintaining eye contact with you for this long, and it makes his abdomen feel warm, even if he knows you're not really all there.
"My lady?"
You finally blink, and at the realization your blank-eyed gaze settled on him, your eyes widen and you immediately look elsewhere. You decide to rest your sight on his hands.
"Is there something wrong with my hair?" His fingers twitch, slightly restless.
"I... What makes you say that, Sir Leon?"
"You've been eyeing the top of my head for a while. I felt your hand near my face while I was waking up, as well, my lady."
Your heart skips a beat, and the way your blink catches for a second and the way you seem to choke on your spit isn't missed by the knight-now-tutor across from you.
"I-It's quite alright, my lady." He rushes out, his heart dropping at that look on your face. He's not even sure what's "alright", but he just wanted to offer you any bit of comfort so things don't escalate, in the fear he was too forward with confronting you.
He remembers the musings of his fellow knights about his hair, about how could he see with all that bother, how it could get in the way during combat, or how it just looked a little funny. Truth be told, his hair was the result of continuously forgetting to go get a haircut because he fixated so much on work, but now he keeps it out of spite. Leon insists he can do perfectly fine to anyone who says otherwise, but if it's you...
Leon breathes in slightly, and his hands move away from your line of vision. You follow them, and he's pushing his fringe back as much as he can. He's trying to tuck it behind his ears, and it almost makes you laugh, how gentle the gesture is, then you realize how beautiful he actually looks. Your cheeks warm, and you cannot look away.
"Is this better, my lady?" He asks, strangely demure in his demeanor.
You chuckle, and his heart soars at the noise, "You missed a spot." you comment, before your hand raises for a second, nearing his face.
"Ah– May I?"
"Of course, my lady." The devotion leaking from his voice is punctuated by the mole on his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.
Your fingers are slightly shaky as they clear the few strands of hair he couldn't pin back. The pads of your fingers graze his forehead, and he takes in a sharp breath. Physical contact between you two was relegated to holding onto his hand when he assisted you, and nothing more, so he wasn't a stranger to it. So he can't really understand why such a tiny act has such an effect on him.
You sit back, properly look at him, and smile. He feels slightly shy under your scrutiny, but he hopes you find him good-looking at the very least. He does have the face to pull off shorter hair, but something about it felt like you were seeing him naked. He felt under-decorated without his fussy hair.
"Mm... I think you look best just as you are."
Leon breathes out a little laugh accompanied by the toothiest smile you've seen on him thus far, which really isn't much, but it comes off just as endearing. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear as his eyes turn into happy crescents. Adoration is dancing around in his pale blue irises, and in the reflection of his dilated pupils, it's only you.
"Thank you, my lady... It makes me happy to hear that."
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
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redr0sewrites · 7 months
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HI HELLO HII!! :3
i woke up today with no thoughts but edging blade and making him ride me.
I AM THE NUMBER 1 BOTTOM BLADIE ADVOCATE. i see every character as a switch but theres way too many top blade fics and i think he needs to be absolutely destroyed like if you put me in a room with him one of us is coming out pregnant and its not going to be me.
- liz (THIS GOT VERY WORDY FOR NO REASON SORRY HEJDKSKSJS)
AAAA UR SO REAL FOR THIS LIZ <33 sorry this took so long to reply to, i started this but stupid tumblr ate my progress so i had to restart 😒 ANYWAYS, I HOPE U ENJOY !!
🥀Cw: smut, AMAB!reader, sub!blade, overstimulation, marking, creampie, edging, breeding kink, overall filth
🥀minors dni
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"p-please!" Blade moaned out, thighs quaking as you rocked your hips back up against him. He was straddling you, his neglected cock twitching as you forced him deeper onto your cock. "nghh puh-please, i wanna- i need to come..." blades stoicism had dissipated entirely, leaving you with the whiny mess currently grinding in your lap.
you had denied him of his orgasm 3 times already throughout the night, and he was becoming desperate. his poor cock was leaking precum, and his cheeks were flushed a hot pink as tears formed on his lash line. he was just so pathetic, he needed you so bad! who were you to deny him?
"aww, bladie~ why should I? tell me why I should let you come. are you being a good boy for me?" you smirked, thrusting upwards into his tight hole hard enough to make him sob.
"i- im being good! im your good boy! please- please- ngh- i need you so-oo bad" blade moaned, nails digging into your shoulders as your hand traveled up his chest to his nipples. you leaned forward, taking one into your mouth and kneading the other with your hand. suddenly, you twisted the hardened nub between your fingers while simultaneously thrusting up against his prostate and he squealed in pleasure. fat, glossy tears streamed down blade's cheeks as you began to pick up the pace, leaning back and thrusting up into him so hard he nearly toppled onto you. needy whines escaped his lips as you mercilessly railed him, forcing him to ride you. blade's hips grinded in tandem with yours, and you could tell he was nearing his orgasm.
"you close baby? t-tell me how bad you want it~" you choked out, a moan threatening to slip past your lips as he squeezed your cock so tightly.
"i- auhhg- p-please, please i need it, i need you, i needa' come o-oh-" blade was cut off with a scream as he arched his back, hips stuttering as his sought after high washed over him. Your eyebrows knitted together, you could feel your own release building in your orgasm.
"You want my cum, baby? want me to come inside, fill you up real nice? im gonna breed this precious hole, fuck you full of my seed~" Blade's mind went blissfully blank at your words, and you wrapped your hand around his neglected cock, stroking him roughly as he shook in overstimulation. He could already feel yet another coil of pleasure building in his abdomen as your thrusts became more sporadic.
"Ye-yes, o-oh yes, please master, i need you, nghh need your cum, want you to fill me up so bad, want it so bad-" your hips jerked up in a few final thrusts as bliss filled every nerve in your body. Blade let out a needy sob as you came inside him, his hole tightening so perfectly around you as a second orgasm shook through him unexpectedly. His cock coated the both of you in his release, and a ring of cum surrounded the base of your own dick still inside of him. With a soft whine, Blade collapsed on top of you and you chuckled softly.
"You tired baby?"
"mhm. Wanna sleep." with no reason to argue, you wrapped your arms around your lover as he nuzzled into your neck, and you gently pulled out of him. blade whimpered softly and you chuckled, gently running your hands through his hair as you both began to drift off.
bro i havent written smut in a hot minute so sorry if this sucks lmao- I LOVE BIG SUBBY MEN THAT NEED YOU SO BAD THEY JUST CANT GET OFF WITHOUT U!!! ANYWAYS FEEL FREE TO SEND IN MORE REQS I LOVE UUUUU HOPE U ENJOYED!
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patricia-taxxon · 2 days
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Inspired by your last Rambley video, what's a good heuristic for realizing you're in too deep with a hyperfixation? I get pretty obsessed over some stuff but it sorta falls off after a couple of years or so, for the most part.
But, that means I've never (at least not recently, I had that obsession with bats when I was 11-12ish) manually pried myself off of an escapist hyperfixation out of a recognition it's gone too far. I fear that means I'm already years past Too Far and don't realize it.
The complicating part here is imagining myself as a nonhumanthing has been a very pro-social force in my life. Pro-social, anti-reality, maybe. Is escapism okay if it's a group activity?
I think I'm failing to word this correctly but you might get the idea of what I mean.
in this case its cus i was actually dissociating and in pain over the story i made up for him, and i had a bit of an identity crisis after i realized that nothing i feel about myself is real and id actually just deluded myself into thinking i could ever transition into dog in the way i wanted, i played myself. i can't be out here giving myself genuine heartbreak over someone that isn't real. although i still love the tragedy i laid out for us as a story and hope to engage with it in a more healthy way in the future.
I think the reason I got konked out of reality so hard by this little guy is partially cus he feels a lot like me, they put an autism creature in the game. the awkward wordiness, the vies for attention, the self conscious childishness, the fur and cute little ears, he's just like me. The love story just makes too much narrative sense with me, the real person, playing it out. I have real friends though, and Rambley isn't actually going to give me what I need in life. Such is autism.
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infamous-if · 1 year
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.2
I know, I know. It took 2 months to write the second drabble from the poll but...this is not even a drabble anymore. Instead, it's more of a collection of scenes mostly because if I do write how Orion found and began managing the band it would be an entire chapter. I will say that I condensed this due to that, but if I ever do write the whole thing it might look a *little* different. I had to cut corners and shorten scenes for the sake of length. Still, hope you like it! (This is 4, 363 words btw. what is wrong with me) I should probably find a more efficient way to share such long works but whatevs. As always, ignore any mistakes or typos or wordy sentences or sentences that probably make no sense upon reading it a second time. I don't edit drabbles and I always just publish the first drafts. haha.
“…Love me and hate me, I don’t mind as long as you take me—”
A low grumble rises in Orion’s throat when the song pauses, the car falling into an unfamiliar silence just as it slows in front of a red light. His large hands tighten their grip on the wheel, and his eyes glide to his co-worker, Marty, just as he’s pulling his hand away from the PAUSE button on the console. 
“Is there a reason you’re touching my stuff?” Orion asks, his voice carrying its usual calm that holds a level of ice that has even his superiors shuddering when they think he’s not looking. 
Marty licks his lips, his face twisting into its usual expression of guilt. Orion softens his face for his friend’s sake.
Orion Quinn knows the impact he has on people. The rumors that plague him have reached his ears on multiple occasions; he’s a shell of what he once was, never having gotten over the one who got away. He’s detached, the merciless worker that the boss goes to when he’s in need of someone who can do the firing.
 He’s the one people are afraid of crossing or talking casually to in fear of letting something slip. People fear him more than they fear the execs. 
It wasn’t always like this, sure. Once, Orion used to smile freely, used to talk openly and wear vulnerability like a favorite coat. But then the divorce happened and sides were taken. Suddenly, the armor he didn’t know he had was reinforced, dented and bruised from a battle he didn’t expect to fight, but reinforced nonetheless. 
Never date your co-workers. 
“The song is terrible, man.” Marty sighs, running a hand through his oily brown hair when he plops back in the seat. The same seat he pushed back at a 120-degree angle. Admittedly, it makes Orion’s nerves flare up. He says nothing;  he has enough self-awareness to know that complaining about his seat is a bit too much, even for him. “I was doing both our ears a favor.”
The light changes and Orion absently drums his fingers on the wheel as he drives on ahead, eyes gliding outside to soak in the densely populated street underneath the rising sun. “Yeah.” The word comes out in a resigned breath. “I was hoping it’d get better.” 
“We were on the bridge,” Marty throws back. “The only way it could get better is if it ended.” Orion’s lip twitches and of course, Marty can’t let it go. ”Oh! That was an almost-smile.” He leans forward to poke Orion’s rib. 
Orion lets out a laugh before his face quickly drops.
Marty grins, plopping his elbow on the ledge of the car door. “All I’m saying is you’ve been listening to demos nonstop this whole month. Not once have I seen you even mildly excited for any of them.”
Orion grits his teeth. “I haven’t had anything substantial to show the team in ages. Our last artist pulled out on signing with us last minute. Our established artists aren’t selling as well anymore. The industry is getting oversaturated—“
“—and we need to be ahead of the curve. Yadda, yadda.” Marty rolls his eyes. “Do you ever just relax? Damn. That stick up your ass is ten-feet lon—“
Marty chokes on his words when Orion’s eyes cut to his. “Say anything else and I’m kicking you out of my car.” 
Marty pouts but relents anyway, choosing to change the subject. “What about dating?”
Orion keeps his eyes on the road but quirks a brow. “What about it?”
“You know…” Marty starts, gesticulating vaguely as he searches for the right words. “Maybe putting yourself out there could help you relax. Or even inspire you—“ 
“No.”
“What? Okay, but—"
“Not interested.”
“You didn’t even know what I was going to sa—“
“Don’t have to.” 
Marty huffs and says nothing for a long moment. Neither of them rush to fill the silence; normal for Orion but unusual for his infinitely more talkative friend. It’s only when he pulls into Carolina Records’ parking lot that Marty speaks again and Orion realizes his silence was really just contemplation.
“I know the divorce was difficult,” he starts, delicate, “but—“
Orion’s jaw clenches.
“— that doesn’t mean you should give up.”
Orion sits there a moment, fingers clenching into fists. “It’s not giving up if I never tried in the first place.” He swings open the door and steps out, the car door slamming with a hint of finality.
. . .
Carolina Records boasts a twenty-floor skyscraper made up of floor-to-ceiling glass windows and sleek, dark marble floor. Orion has been here since he graduated college; going from a measly intern to an A&R representative responsible for finding two of the most promising artists in the company. 
That was a year ago. Since then, the well of new talent has dried up and Orion doesn’t know what to do.
Of course, he was offered higher positions, all of which he quickly denied. Orion always had a knack for numbers and trends, discovering what new genre is going to come to the forefront, seeing what kind of music the general public is listening to. Music: he understands it better than people. His understanding is almost clinical: while people listen to it for enjoyment, Orion seeks the patterns, the feelings that every beat and scale and vocal run they invoke. He takes it apart and puts it together like a surgeon does a patient. It just makes sense to him. 
He could do so much more, he knows that, but none of that interests him.
The music—that’s what he likes. 
Discovering new talent is what excites him. Which is why this odd dry spell has him walking with gritted teeth and tension between his shoulders-blades. He has to do something.
“Mr. Quinn.” 
Orion nods at a woman who passes by the hallway, ignoring the way Marty does a whole spin when he tracks her retreating frame down the hall.
Another one. This time a man from the marketing department. “Good Morning, Mr. Quinn.” 
“Morning.”
Marty scoffs when the man continues walking, not sparing him a glance. 
“Am I chopped liver or something?” Marty complains.
“Mr. Quinn, hey!”
“Hi.” Orion nods his head once and presses the elevator button. When his eyes land on a frowning Marty he says, “You’re just not sociable.”
“Huh?!” Marty then lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched sputter of a laugh. “And you are?”
Orion frowns. “Yes.”
Another laugh. “You’re smart, dude, you know it’s more because of that”— he gestures vaguely at him—“than your social skills.”
The elevator doors open with a cheerful bell and they step inside. “What?”
“You know.” Marty shrugs. “Your face. You look like you should be on a billboard advertising overpriced cologne with your shirt unbuttoned and your hand in your hair talking about your luxurious life or something.”
“That’s…specific.”
Marty shrugs. “I read a lot of GQ.” 
Orion wrinkles his nose when they spin to face the doors. “While it is true I would be considered objectively handsome by societal standards—“
“Oh, fuck off.”
“—I don’t think that’s the case.” This time Orion lets out a small smile. “Or maybe it is?” He quirks a brow at his co-worker. “Should I send a gift basket to my parents? A ‘thank-you-for-the-superior-DNA gift?’”
Marty shakes his head.  “You know, when you do try to be funny you still sound like an asshole.”
Orion hums, the joke tickling him enough for him to let out his first smile of the day. 
The elevator doors sing their arrival and they bid farewell once they part to go to their respective offices. Orion strides to his corner office where another one of his co-workers, Kass, is standing with a box in her hands.
“This week’s demos.” Orion is just putting his arms out when she plops the boxes on them. “You should really stop requesting unsolicited demos. It’s such an outdated way of doing things.”
Orion ignores her and unlocks his office door, turning the knob and pushing it open with his hip. His office is barren but spacious, with high windows overlooking the city. Marty told him once that people would kill to have his office, but really it’s just like any other space. What’s an office without a productive person to work in it? Orion hasn’t done anything of meaning in weeks.
Sighing, he drops the box on the table unceremoniously, picking up the first CD on the top of the pile. GROUNDED IN REALITY reads the title, and it’s so apt that he almost chucks the CD in the trash on that very fact alone. Still, he’s nothing if not fair. Another sigh escapes him and he gets to listening. 
. . .
Helpless.
That’s how he feels.
After hours of listening, the music has long since blurred together in a portrait of uninspired melodies and generic, radio-friendly lyrics. Nothing stood out, nothing made him want to dig into the song in search for more, nothing made him feel.
Is it me? Am I the problem?
Jaw clenched, Orion fishes out his phone, the usual flinch coming to him when he sees the background. He forgot to change it, and it’s always an (unwanted) surprise whenever he sees a picture of them together. 
One year ago. The beach. Happy.
Shaking his head, he sends a quick text to his mother telling her that he’ll have to raincheck on their dinner. He still has half a box of songs left. Looks like he’ll be staying late.
“Yo, Orion!” A knock. “Let’s go! I want to driiink.”
Or not.
Marty strides in without waiting for an invitation, a grin on his face. “Tab is on me.”
“Do you ever work?” Orion asks, eyes half-lidded in equal parts annoyance and indifference. 
His friend frowns. “This is work.”
“I don’t think getting drunk is in the job description.” Orion looks down, absently clicking on the button of his mouse in an effort to busy his hands. 
“Wah, wah. Don’t be a fucking party pooper.”
 “Too late.”
Marty shoots him a look. “A few artists are playing tonight. Call this recruitment.” He uses spirit fingers. “Maybe you’ll even loosen up for once.” When Orion looks at him, a brow raised, Marty drops his hands. “Yes, I do my job sometimes. Don’t look so surprised.”
“It’s not that,” Orion starts. He doesn’t immediately continue. Instead, they simply stare at each other. Marty wiggles his brows as Orion narrows his gaze. “When you say the tab is on you—“
Marty whips out a black card. “Company card, baby!”
Orion palms his face with a long groan as Marty begins to moonwalk across Orion’s office. “I was perfectly fine staying inside.” Even though he says this, a moment later he stands and grabs his trenchcoat from the back of the chair. “And you’re driving.”
“What!” Marty stomps his foot as he follows him out. “Nooooo.” 
. . .
The bar sits in a livelier part of the city, a part that Orion doesn’t often find himself in. It’s less about the scene and more about the memories associated with every damn corner of this place. Orion can pluck a memory from his mind like a petal from a rose garden: the diner they went to and fought for fifteen minutes over who would get to pay the bill, the park they spent their lunches at.
The shop where he bought the ring.
“This place is golden,” Marty says, breaking Orion out of the string of memories he wishes he could erase forever, “it’s like a real gritty, underground hole-in-the-wall vibe.”
“Sounds like fun,” comes out of Orion in a dour tone that has Marty rolling his eyes. 
They stride through the neon glow of the brick hall until it opens up to a dimly lit bar. The space is humble; the sparse crowd is compensated by the energy of the performers on the stage. 
“Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn…?”
“Is the band really covering Fountains of Wayne?” Orion says through gritted teeth.
Marty bites his lower lip, his obvious attempt to stifle laughter only making Orion’s faux horror flare even more. “Maybe.” Marty spins around, shimmying his shoulder. “You don’t agree that Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Going on?” Marty then realizes something and laughs. “You know, I dated a Stacy once. Weirdly enough, her mom wasn’t that bad looking—“
Orion sighs and quickly moves to the bar. “I need a drink.”
Whatever hope Orion had of finding new talent is gone in the face of the line-up. It quickly becomes obvious that the performers are composed of people who aren’t taking the ‘gig’ seriously or patrons that are half-drunk and stumbling on the small stage.
Worse that the place is pathetically empty; it’s only them two and three other stragglers eating stale fries and bobbing their heads to the music, more out of obligatory politeness than anything else. Orion is suddenly regretting taking Marty up on his offer. 
Orion drinks his lager through periodic gulps, his desire to forget this night growing with every person that performs. The memories of this area coupled with his lack of work lately make him dizzy. He wants to escape. Quit. Scream. All of it.
“Get me another,” Orion says, much to Marty’s delight.
More and more people perform until Orion has lost any focus on the stage. Instead, he entertains himself by watching the game on the TV, having long given up on finding any new promising talent in a place like this. 
“Next up we have”—the bartender stops, her eyes narrowing as she tries to read something off an index card—“er, [band]. Yeah. Give them a round of applause.”
With how few people are in attendance, the applause is less applause and more awkward clapping that quickly dies after two. 
The people on stage are younger. Immediately, Orion notices that they’re equipped with actual instruments instead of relying on the karaoke machine in the corner. A decisive point in their favor, he decides.
“You said this was a gig…” He hears one of them say to what appears to be the lead singer. The boy wears a red hat, as well as an assortment of chains on his neck. Three other band members set up their instruments, trying not to look too disappointed by the turnout. Still, even with the lager creating a slight fog in his head, Orion knows that look. The moment when hope dies, burning like a napkin to a flame.
“No,” the lead singer says pointedly as they adjust their mic, “I said this was a favor.” In that moment, the singer nods their head at the bartender, who shoots them an appreciative thumbs-up. “A paid favor.”
The boy shakes his head but snorts. “I guess.” 
Once they’re set up, the singer looks ahead, gazing at the bar. Their eyes briefly settle on Orion as they gaze at the few faces in the room. “Hey!” they say, chirpy. “We’re [band]. Thanks for coming out!”
A chorus of muttering replies.
Marty taps on the bar. “Wanna head out?”
Orion, unable to look away, shakes his head. “No. I want to see this.”
The next few minutes feel like a dream. Orion is in a daze as the song plays, the beats piercing through him. The voice sends goosebumps up his arms, the instruments weave together in a perfect harmony that has Orion’s heart racing. When the song ends, it’s too soon. He wants it to keep going. He doesn’t want it to end. 
He wants more.
“Thanks!” The singer says to a smattering of slightly enthusiastic applause. This is the most energy everyone has had all night. They turn, grab their things, and disappear through the curtain. Orion bursts up….
…spilling his drink on the table.
“Oh!” the bartender squeaks as Marty hisses.
“Aw, fuck.” Orion curses, and then flinches. “Sorry. Uh….sorry.” He doesn’t know what his apology is for. Dropping the drink, cussing, or speeding away before he could help clean it up in order to catch the band backstage?
“Hey!” Marty calls. “Where are you going?”
Orion ignores him. He has a one-track mind right now, one focused on finding the band that just made him feel like he hit the jackpot. This. This is what he’s been looking for. 
The door swings open, and the band stop mid-conversation to look at Orion, who busted through the door without so much as a plan or script in place. Instead, he simply stands there. 
“Uh.” One girl, flaunting bright blue hair, says. “Yeah?”
Orion reveals his card, feeling a bit like a robot. He moves on automatic, working through the many thoughts in his head to utter the rest of his words. “Do you have a manager?”
. . . 
“You want to manage us?”
The din of the coffee shop sings with the sound of plates and aimless chatter. It’s been two days since he heard them perform back at the bar, and Orion has been running through his pitch the way one does before an interview. He’s never been this…nervous? Uncertain? In his life. 
“Yes,” is Orion’s only response. He sits on one side of the table while the band sits on the other; an invisible wall between them. He can see it, their apprehension. He is not one of them. 
Not yet, at least. 
“Wait.” The boy Orion learned is named Rowan leans forward, fingers on the table. “How do we know this isn’t a scam?”
“I’m not asking for money. All I ask is for you to show up to play for my boss. That’s it.” Auditions are a lost art. Nowadays artists are recruited through viral internet songs and connections. Two things that always exhausted Orion. It hasn’t been just about the music in a long time. 
Their eyes widen. They all exchange looks, equal parts excited and wary. 
“Why?” [MC], who he learned is the sole singer of the band, asks.
Because you made me feel something. Because listening to you is the first time I felt human in a long time.
He imagines himself waving off those words like mist. “Because you’re the first band that has caught my attention. And it’s not easy to catch my attention.”
The band member named Iris snorts. 
“I’m not trying to be arrogant,” he says blandly, leaning back in his chair to fold his arms over his chest. “It’s the truth.”
“Where do you work?” Another member, Devyn, asks. 
“Carolina Records.”
Multiple pairs of eyes widen.
“Holy shit.” Jazzy laughs. “The Carolina Records?”
Orion nods, used to this kind of reaction. Starry-eyed artists are pretty much the same when it comes to Carolina. “Yes.” He leans forward, his heart racing. “Just one audition. That’s all I ask.” 
He watches as they all exchange looks; a silent language only they share. After an agonizing moment, [MC] turns to him and nods. “When?”
. . . . 
Orion has been pacing for the last half hour.
He stands outside Carolina’s humble theater space, chewing on his nails as he waits for his boss, Jacob Hill, and a smattering of other executives and shareholders that will be the final word in whether Orion can work with [band]. He hasn’t asked for something this big in so long that Jacob Hill immediately said yes, more out of excitement and surprise than anything else. Orion did produce two of their most profitable artists in the company. 
The elevator doors open and Orion stops in place, head whipping up to see them walking through the hall in a wave of black suits and greased hair. Orion brushes down his shirt, trying to dampen his nerves. Jesus. Nerves? Get a grip, Orion. 
He doesn’t know how to stand as he waits for them to approach. Hands in pockets? Arms crossed? Orion is so indecisive he just resorts to standing straight, arms at his sides. 
“Mr. Hill.” Orion shakes his hand, clearing his throat. He makes his polite greetings to the rest of the team and says, “Thank you for making time for me.”
“Always, Orion.” Jacob slaps a large hand on his back. “You’re one of my best. You should ask me for favors more.”
Orion lets out a small, slightly nervous laugh. “Ah, you know. I like to—“
“—do things on your own,” Jacob finishes, a soft smile on his face. “I get it.”
He slowly looks up, meeting Jacob’s eyes. In them he can see the familiar pity he’s gotten since the divorce. 
It’s Orion’s fault, really. If he didn’t isolate himself and turn into what he is now, people wouldn’t look at him and assume he’s broken inside.
Would they be wrong in their assumption, though? Am I broken inside?
“Shall we?” another executive says, and Orion bobs his head in a nod, pushing away the image of Jacob’s face.
Inside is a small theater, the stage just big enough for one artist. The seats are plush leather, the lights dim but blue. Jacob always likes the spectacle, and he catered this space to feel like a real performance for possible signees. Orion decides against sitting, too nervous to do anything but stand in the back, giving them the signal he taught them in his pep talk before they came.
[MC] nods. “Um. Hi. We’re [band]. I’m [MC] and this is Iris, Rowan, Devyn, and Jazzy. And um…this is [song].”
Orion flinches at the lackluster introduction. Doesn’t matter, he thinks, unfamiliarly optimistic, the music will do the talking.
And it does.
But not in the way he thought.
All throughout the song, Orion peeks at Jacob and his team. He wants to celebrate when he sees them bobbing their heads, wants to curse when they get on their phones. Orion has never worried this much in his whole career. He’s never wanted something so bad. 
He’s never allowed himself to want. Not after the divorce. 
He didn’t think he was deserving of getting what he wanted. 
The song ends, and Orion lets out a breath. There’s muffled chatter between the men, and on stage the band crowd together, hopping in place as they let out their remaining nerves. 
Jacob stands, the rest following. Orion speeds ahead, wanting to see the thoughts on his face. Instead, Jacob simply regards him with thin lips.
“They were…good,” Jacob whispers, putting a hand on Orion’s shoulder and guiding him out of the room and to the empty hall, “but I think we’re going to go in another direction.”
Orion’s positivity leaks out of him like an open faucet. “What.”
Jacob inhales through his nose. “Look, the singer is talented. They all are. I understand why you like them but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t think the guys see it. And plus,” he shrugs, “they don’t have what we’re looking for.”
Orion’s brows furrow. His stomach drops in itself and his mouth dries. “They have another song. They could play it—“
“Orion.” Jacob gives him that pitying expression again. Fucking hell. He wants to smack that expression off his face. “I know you’ve been…off, since the divorce. You haven’t been on top of your game, and I’ve been giving you your space. It’s not easy, especially since you worked together—“
“I’m fine,” he says tightly.
“—but you can’t…fixate on something to get over it. You need to do it the healthy way. The old Orion would’ve brought me someone with pizzazz. With that unique Orion touch, you know?” Jacob pulls him close. Orion is reduced to a scolded child, unable to do anything but listen. “This isn’t the Orion I know. You usually bring me diamonds.” 
“I—“ Orion swallows. “I’m trying.” And it’s the most honest thing he’s said in ages. He’s trying. And it’s not working. He’s been trying the day he signed that fucking divorce paper and signed the only life he’s known away. 
“I know you are,” Jacob says, squeezing his shoulder. “Sometimes we miss, and that’s alright.”
The rest of the group filter out and both Jacob and Orion step back, trying to hide any sign of their tense conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
Orion nods slowly, the lump in his throat growing as he feels multiple eyes on him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are downturned. He can hardly look at his boss.
He stands there, frozen, forced to listen to their careless chatter as they walk down the hall. The moment they stepped out of those doors, they forgot about the band. The same band that made him feel something, the first time since his divorce. The same band he can’t get out of his head. The same band that proved he is not broken. He can still feel.
And they don’t even fucking care.
“I quit,” Orion says, the words coming out of him before he could even think. Jacob and Co turn around, twin expressions of shock on their faces. Orion looks up, straightening, trying to look even an inch of the Old Him.
“What?” Jacob blurts. 
“I quit.” Orion swallows. “I’ll formally hand in my resignation tomorrow.” He bows, trying to muster up the little respect and professionalism he has in him. “I’m sorry.”
“Orion—“
He spins around, walking back inside. 
The band is still on stage, this time all packed up and ready to go. When the door closes, they all look up, their hopeful and wide eyes on Orion as he walks down to the stage.
He stops in front of it. He puts two palms on the stage, looking at the members of the band he will take to the top. He promised it to himself…two minutes ago.
“I’m going to ask again,” Orion says through his teeth, his heart racing with the adrenaline of his quitting. What the fuck is he doing? And why does it feel so good? “Do you still need a manager?”
When he looks up, the band stares at him in silence.  
He witnesses [MC] look behind him at the door, where Jacob and his team left. As if realizing something, they look back down. “Yeah. You okay with another artist in your roster?”
“Yes.” Orion nods. He’s okay with it. 
Because all he needs is one. 
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