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The Wellspring, Brendon Burton

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Maybe I'm pushing myself too hard

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"knowledge is not the highest form of wisdom. rather yet, it is being present."

that fucking broke me. the power of knowing and not knowing.

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On the therapy-psychiatry business in Hannibal

It puts me in a fit of contemplation whether or not Hannibal Lecter actually helped anyone with their emotional and mental proclivities.

Hannibal demonstrates extraordinary clinical acumen, which apparently coexists with psychopathy of satanic proportions. It's safe to say that during his imprisonment, he continued to write, publish, and receive positive reviews for his works. For good measure, during that time, psychiatry students and practicing physicians wrote to him with papers and theories for him to comment on.

He was regarded as one of the leading experts on the subject of addiction to plastic surgery and had a great deal of influence. Regarding his patients, I believe he was a threat to those who somehow piqued his interest and only marginally effective for those for whom he cared for.

But it's him who convinces the suicidal person to channel their thoughts toward killing others. It's him who counsels the individual struggling with inner demons to talk to them, be open with them, and hear what they have to say. Afterwards, they end up using lobotomy to create a human beehive or skinning someone and dressing them in a people suit.

By its very nature, therapy involves great vulnerability—sharing your deepest secrets with a professional who has studied mental health and psychology. Truly that Doctor Hannibal Lecter is on the bottom list of people you'd want to be vulnerable to.

The man is an exceptional psychiatrist in terms of skill after all, but definitely not the safest psychiatrist out there.

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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - sakusa kiyoomi

others: atsumu's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.

# contains: some cursing but that's it # ellie.txt: expected this one to be more dramatic, but as I was writting it, it just felt so right like this. so yeah. obligatory: i love omi and respectful relationships.

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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - miya atsumu psrt 2 [part 1]

others: sakusa's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.

# contains: cursing, hint of angst, skirts (?) # ellie.txt: if any of you here is also reading my sweet competition series !! that reference from prev chapter is for you!! btw long ass second part sorry! you guys know me

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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - miya atsumu, part 1 [part 2]

others: sakusa's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.

# contains: cursing, hint of angst but blink and you'll miss it # ellie.txt: this one got too long because I'm embarassingly in love with the dude or whatever. anyway I had to split it, so posting part two tomorrow.

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It’s annoying but the way you improve yourself is one tiny thing at a time

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the unbearable lightness of being, philip kaufman 1988 / henri de toulouse-lautrec/ peter wever / egon schiele

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when I kissed the teacher — ooooo i wanna see what moodboard you’d make for the word “casanova” it’s so intriguing to me

| join my 5k celebration! |

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Old money aesthetic -

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rwrb part one ; henry fox

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Hannibal (Tv Series 2013-2015)

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Poor Things (2023)

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Poor Things (2023) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

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a modern day woman with a weak constitution

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Ms. Tee you have to follow up rich boy Gojo with him getting to experience the first morning together. With reader in his arms 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and reader finally caves pls Tee I'm dying over here - dabitee anon

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

it’s late in the afternoon when gojo opens his eyes, and for a moment, he wonders where he even is. there’s the warmth of a body snuggled into his side, there’s the feeling of legs tangled with his under the sheets, and there’s numbness in his arm from a head resting on his bicep the whole night—all things he never wakes up to.

and then he’s horrified—sickened even. he couldn’t have possibly stayed the whole night after a one night stand, could he?

he jumps, pulling away, hearing a soft groan before quiet grumbles are muttered under a breath, but he’s not too concerned about that right now. who is this? and where are his clothes? and why does the room suddenly feel oddly familiar—

“satoru, what the fuck?” you grumble, glaring at him through bleary, sleep hazed eyes. he blinks once, then twice, and then he tilts his head to the side in confusion. and soon, he grins as he realizes, and it’s bright and ecstatic and just a little bit smug before he tugs your body against his quickly—a little too quickly since it causes you to huff and deliver a light smack to his chest in irritation.

“so, you stayed the whole night with me, huh?” he wriggles his brows, smirking at you as he presses a gleeful kiss to your forehead. you purse your lips as you stare up at him, and you wonder if it’s too late now to back out of whatever this is you have with gojo.

“after you begged me to, yeah,” you spit, and he clutches his chest dramatically, as though your words land a harsh blow to his ego. in all realness, he’s too giddy to care, but gojo satoru is not gojo satoru if not without at least some theatrics.

“i wasn’t the one drooling on your chest, was i?” he asks, chuckling as your eyes narrow at him. your gaze is almost enough to pierce through him, and if he’s being honest, he loves it. gently, he reaches, pinching your nose affectionately as his arm curls tighter around you. “see? ‘m not so bad,” gojo mumbles, and your expression softens as he lets out a happy sigh, pulling the sheets up to cover you better.

“you’re a clingy sleeper, did you know that?”

“i distinctly remember my arm being the one to fall asleep because you were laying on it—”

“and then you rudely woke me up when you pulled away,” you huff, grumbling the word asshole under your breath as you shuffle out of his arms and shift to turn with your back facing him.

gojo pouts, inching closer until his chin rests on your shoulder, molding his body around yours as his finger prods at your side repeatedly. you smack his hand away, but it does little to deter him, and his finger is back to poking at your hip not long after.

“did you have dreams of me, at least?”

“satoru,” you warn.

“did i look hot?”

“no.”

you can practically feel his pout deepen as his arms wrap around you again, face burying into the crook of your neck. but as he plants a soft kiss into your skin, you smile to yourself, bringing your hand to lay on his and rubbing over his knuckles with your thumb in slow circles. he pulls you so your back is flush against his chest—and for once, you lean into him.

and gojo feels the same giddy feeling bubbling up again, the one he feels when he envisions mornings together as you make pancakes, and steal each other’s last bites, and argue over washing dishes, and splashing water in each other’s faces. because now, there are no more empty hookups and lonely mornings—because now you stay, and you snuggle into his chest, and you latch onto his arm, and you give him a chance to live out those daydreams.

“c’mon, i was a little hot, right?” he whines, digging his nose further into your neck. and you want to yell at him for ruining your sleep, but there’s nothing but fondness blooming at the way he holds you near, bodies pressed so closely together, you almost don’t know where one ends and where the other begins.

“nope. not even a little,” you tease, a grin spreading on your face as he sulks against your skin. your fingers lace with his, slowly entwining as your eyes open, and maybe you can get used to mornings like this—even if it’s technically noon by now.

“we’re dating now, you know,” he grumbles, “so that means you have to be nice to me. it’s the rules.”

“i have to humble you,” you correct, giggling lightly, “and since when do you ever follow rules?”

“since i’m the one who makes them,” he chuckles, and then you’re being turned around, being shifted to lay on your back as gojo hovers over you, biting your cheek playfully. you can’t help but squeal, laughing as you try to shove him off—and there’s warmth in his chest, eyes bright and heart full as he stares down at you while the rays of sunlight kiss your skin.

gojo thinks that after this, if he has to spend even a single morning without you by his side, it’s a morning wasted—and even if the clock ticks one pm, and the birds are no longer chirping, and it’s a tad bit late to be making pancakes, this is probably still the best morning he’s ever spent.

“i was promised an excellent breakfast last night,” you remind him. your hand reaches to cup his cheek, thumb tracing over the soft flesh gently, and he follows the touch like a moth does a flame. leaning down, gojo presses a delicate peck to your lips, then another, and then another—and soon, it’s deepened to a kiss, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrap around his neck.

hesitantly, he pulls away, and you wonder to yourself if his eyes have always been such a vibrant shade of blue.

“only the best for you,” he winks, and then he dips back down, lips pressing themselves against yours once more.

here’s another rich boy gojo drabble fjsjfjsjf why is this basically a series now help