DAN DA DAN | Ch. 91
One Nice Bug Per Day
AnasAbdin

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Andulka
Mike Driver
RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

shark vs the universe

Kaledo Art
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸


Discoholic 🪩
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art blog(derogatory)

Product Placement
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@kaurwreck
DAN DA DAN | Ch. 91

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you know it's like. really a testament to fukuzawa's faith in kunikida that multiple people high key died in osamu dazai's entrance exam, one of whom dazai shot himself, another of whom was a minor, and fukuzawa just. accepted kunikida's endorsement of dazai. like if you say so, kunikida.
#tbf - Fukuzawa did also give Kunikida a gun to kill Dazai with if he needed to.#so. I don't think he's too concerned with death.
incorrect! also you failed to do the reading in the reblogs prior to commenting on fukuzawa's morality in the tags. to the asiatic bear exhibit with you.
obsessed with the canonical detail that if any other character engages with kunikida about dazai for any length of time, kunikida devolves into describing the explicit torture fantasies he has about dazai. i like to think that ranpo and yosano are gatekeeping knowledge of bdsm from kunikida to preserve the sanctity of the dorms, which I imagine have thin walls.
To disregard canon you must first interact with canon

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at 14, i was binge reading carl jung and jun mochizuki. at nearly 30, i'm binge reading carl jung and jun mochizuki. keeping time, time, time / in a sort of Runic rhyme, etc., etc.
it's always "why do you pace so much" and never "how was the pacing was the pacing fun"
i have [gestures vaguely] my tendencies
i am just moved by everything now. i'm porous and everything gets inside me
I made a bead bracelet inspired by the armed detective agency's office interior because arts and crafts are ostensibly good for you.

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cellsdividing - Jennifer O'Toole
I feel like not enough people realize that people under enormous strain act really really fucking Weird
If someone is doing things that don't make Sense, try to understand that it is entirely possible that their brain is probably under an enormous weight and fracturing under the pressure. People who have been stabbed will sometimes talk a circle around the fact that they've been stabbed because stress and shock prevent you from recognizing the distress you are in and what you need to do to seek help for it. PTSD will do this also. You will find yourself repeatedly jamming a bag of frozen fruit into the same spot in the freezer where it doesn't fit and keeps falling, over and over and over, focused on nothing but that bag. You will decide that a beanbag chair is 10000% necessary to your life. You will lose your entire shit because you stubbed your toe on a table and that means the whole setup of your furniture is wrong. These are largely harmless examples. People under strain will also hurt themselves and others. Cornered animals bite. And it doesn't heal the bite to go "Hey, are you okay?" But it might get you to an animal that stops biting, so you can start to heal. And before you had an animal that bit, you probably had an animal that kept doing shit you didn't understand as stress signals
It's absolutely crazy that intellectual labor can wipe you out. It seems like it shouldn't be a thing, like your stores of brain juice shouldn't be able to be depleted in that way.
I feel like a wizard that's out of spell slots, and to me that's a hackish mechanical limitation put in place to try to balance the classes.
is that a gun to the back of my head or are you just happy to see the back of my head?

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I had a dream the other night that Edgar Allen Poe (author, literary critic) was perched next to me on my bed, reading a slimmed down version of my used, clothbound copy of his collected essays and reviews, while I slept in fitful bursts punctuated by muscle spasms that kept startling me awake. But every time I jolted upright or blearily began to fish around the sheets for my phone, Edgar Allen Poe reached over, placed a hand on my shoulder or back, and firmly pressed me back down into my pillows. I'd fall back asleep, until another spasm.
This went on until I woke up (still within the dream) to him having draped nearly his entire body on me. He claimed he had to workshop his approach because the book he was reading had returned to its actual size (it had), rendering it too heavy to read one-handed.
I accused him of trying to manipulate me into sleeping when I shouldn't, and he abruptly rolled off me. He then sidled against my side instead, but while wearing a terrible smirk; like, just a godawful grin. I was so hellbent on figuring that out that I didn't notice Rainer Marie Rilke until it was too late; he was already clambering on top of us with clumsy abandon.
Which is when I woke up (actually woke up) to my cat similarly scrambling on top of me.