#if i can psychoanalyze for a minute—

[comfymoth]

On that note, what were your thoughts on Coraline? Specially on that scene where the beldam counts down from 3 as she transforms into her true form.

Because to me, it made me realize that I love horror movies and their concepts, and what I didn't like of other specific transformation scenes was that they were... too real to me? Like they made me think about "if people could really be turned into animals how horrible would it be to leave every single thing you know about life behind and never get to do the human things you like and nobody knowing that something unnatural happened to you, they'd just see a weird dog or cow or chicken" and that was too terrifying of a thought to me

that specific scene didn’t really bother me the same way! i thought it was scary, sure, but that’s just because the beldam looks scary. a monster turning into a monster because they’ve always been one didn’t make me queasy the way other stuff did. she’s choosing to change shapes, no one else is making her, and it’s one she seems to like!

like you said, a part of it for me was being so upset at the idea of losing your original life and not being able to go back, being separated from people or just not being recognized at all. i really didn’t like the idea that it might be painful, or embarrassing, or that you could have absolutely no control over what was happening. the loss of control was HUGE for me.

in a weird way that’s probably what drew little kid me to werewolves though. because they do have to go through all of that, but in the end they can change back. and they don’t have to be alone because of it, you know, wolves are such social animals, it doesn’t have to be completely isolating. and also wolves are just fucking cool!!! so it was a way to explore all of that discomfort without it being so horribly overwhelming. it was cathartic!

and now i’m just Like This. so. haha. oops?

[thegirlsarethriving]

just finished undertale. ok i see the vision. i now understand yall's Sans-to-Benrey obsession pipeline. and the Papyrus-to-Tommy Coolatta pipeline

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

lore drop i used to write headcanons abt two years ago

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

why didn't anyone tell me that Hannibal is a comedy

[ruvviks]

good evening mutuals how are we all doing

[e77y]

Wrote two reaaaaaally long post drafts overexplaining something so insignificant and feeling guilty for it and then I was like. wait this is such a waste of my time 😭

[bloodmoonmuses]

come back to me | mark lee

summary: your boyfriend, mark, drunkenly recounts the day the two of you met. (mostly to prove to haechan and johnny that love does, in fact, exist. even in the most unlikely of places.)

genre: mark lee x reader, established relationship kinda... but, like, also a meet cute? young love and all that jazz lol

It’s cold outside, the beginnings of winter trickling in with bitter fervor, yet you’re warm. Or rather, being warmed by the illusion of heat that courses through your veins: liquid courage. Now on your second bottle of soju, your form feels pliant, watery even, as you sway in the wind of your friends’ joy. 

In a booth (the leather of which is crackling at the seams) that forms a sort of semi circle, sits you, Mark, Johnny and Haechan. The wooden table before you is littered in plastic shot “glasses” and fried chicken wings that have been picked clean, and the bar is quite lively despite it nearing one in the morning. You lie your head against Mark’s shoulder, lost in the feeling of his muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly beneath it.

“You good?” Mark whispers to you, shimming slightly as if to jostle a response out of you.

The words that escape your mouth feel fuzzy on your tongue, staticky around the edges. “Never been better.”

For some reason, the night has taken a nostalgic turn, fueled by the alcohol in everyone’s system. Haechan and Johnny have been arguing about their love lives for the better part of an hour. It never fails to amuse you how much they like bickering simply for the sake of it. You tuned out about ten minutes ago when Haechan brought up Johnny’s commitment issues only to be met with a rebuttal about him using humor as a coping mechanism. Both comments clearly strike a nerve in the men respectively, deciding to psychoanalyze their exes in chronological order in an attempt to disprove the validity of one another's assertions. 

“I don’t like that we can’t make fun of Mark right now,” Johnny confesses when he’s finished talking about an ex who turned out to be a closeted sasaeng, turning his attention to you and Mark.

Haechan scrunches his nose, gazing upon you as well. “Look at you two… All cozied up- it’s disgusting.”

“Hey man,” Mark starts, “don’t blame me for the lack of love in your life.” You punctuate his declaration with a kiss on the cheek, giddy and lovey-dovey in your drunken state. “See?” 

Johnny pretends to gag.

“How’d you meet anyway?” Haechan asks, “-so I can avoid any scenario involving… that.”

“Mark hasn’t told you the story in, like, excruciating detail?” you scoff. “He’s told everyone.”

Haechan shakes his head. 

“Oh God, don’t get him started,” Johnny groans. Mark sits upright, effectively knocking your head off of his shoulder, ecstatic with the chance to relay the way you met each other in its sappy glory.

“Spring,” Mark starts. “I was seventeen, so I had just debuted a year before, and-”

The cherry blossoms. They were stunning, you remember. Glistening and quivering under the weight of all the raindrops that had accumulated on them. The sheen of puddles scattered on the roads and sidewalks... You took the bus to work, a little cafe job you worked while finishing up your requirements at the international school you attended, and during that time of year, those bus rides were some of the most peaceful times in your day to day life. 

You think back to your youth, bright eyes aged only seventeen years, and how the world then seemed filled to brim with possibility. One day in particular, a chilly one towards the end of spring, you remember watching Mark enter the bus, his boyishness evident in his untied shoelaces and clunkily carried guitar case. On his back was a spiderman backpack, you remember vividly, and his hair is frizzy from how light he’s bleached it. He comes off a bit frazzled as you watch him stumble into a seat, precariously balancing a flimsy pair of headphones on his head, and settle in it with his knees bent. 

Once he’s gathered his bearings, he takes off his backpack and retrieves a notebook and pen, placing it on his knees, and begins to write frantically- like if he doesn't put pen to paper in this exact nanosecond, the idea will leave and never return. In a world of sloth and languidness, you’re fascinated by his urgency. You take off your own headphones to hear how he sounds in the context of silence, it is seven in the morning after all, and it only draws you in further. The scratching of the pen against the paper, orchestrated by the humming that just barely escapes his lips lulling you into a state of hypnosis.

Periodically, he furrows his brows, tries out a different melody, then writes some more- over and over again, until the pattern becomes more fluid. More succinct. Like the beginnings of a fully fledged song. He’s smiling now, and you find yourself unknowingly mirroring his joy, the fuzziness of it spreading up your neck like a campfire consuming its kindling. You’re enraptured. 

You want to live inside his head. What a superpower to have; to breathe life into written language. And then suddenly, he’s stuffing his notebook into his backpack as quickly as he had taken it out. His stop must be coming up soon, you had thought to yourself. 

After putting his feet back on the ground, he gingerly places his palms against the bus window- as if to test its temperature. When deemed cool enough, he exhales against the glass, quickly etching a heart onto its foggy surface with a squeak. His fingers are calloused, that much you can tell even from across the bus, and he’s tired- if the bags under his eyes are any indication. Then, the bus crawls to a stop, and he stands. Again, you’re mirroring him instantly, body moving before your mind can catch up. It’s not your stop, yours is another three down, but you exit nonetheless, too enthralled by the boy in front of you to let him out of your sight.

You walk about a block, maintaining about a ten foot distance between the two of you, and watch him hobble down the sidewalk with his huge guitar case. He grunts occasionally, adjusting and readjusting his baggage when the weight becomes too much, humming all the while. Until, of course, he turns around, tearing the headphones off of his head, and asks, “Are you following me?!” in a frustrated huff. 

You stop in your tracks. Oh wait, you had thought, you are sorta following him. Well, the cafe is in this direction technically but-

“You’re not one of those people with a fansite, are you? Look, dude, I know we debuted last year, but I want a normal life just like-”

“I’m not a fan. I mean, not yet, I guess. Well- no. I was just… I’m not following you. Mostly.” you stammer. 

Mark scratches his head. “Then, what are you doing…?”

“You were writing a song on the bus,” you look at the ground, staring at your shoes in search of some solace, reprieve from the then stranger’s prying eyes. How did you think this would turn out any other way? “I thought maybe, you could… sing it. Like, out loud.”

Mark sighs. “Look, dude, I have practice and-”

“Right. I’m sorry for being weird, you just looked… Nevermind. Have a nice day- sorry to bother you.” You turn on your heels, in the complete opposite of the cafe you’re supposed to be going to, and make a break for it. As you trek up the hill, you shatter your reflection over and over again, the splashing of puddles beneath your feet the only sound tethering you to reality. 

“It’s not finished-” Mark starts, voice cutting through the rustling leaves and bustling city with piercing clarity.  You’re frozen, still facing away from the hypnotist behind you. “-but I could show you the idea. Because that’s what it is right now. Just an idea.”

You turn to face him. “Um. Sure. If that’s okay.”

Haechan interjects Mark’s storytelling, words warbling from his completion of a third bottle of soju for the night. “No way you actually sat down and played the song for-”

“Shh!” Johnny says, “This is the best part.”

“See, I knew you secretly loved this mushy-gushy stuff,” you say. 

Mark giggles. “So, like I was saying-”

You sit on a bench freckled cherry blossom petals and just-dried droplets of dew, knee bouncing nervously when Mark plops down beside you. Mark sets his guitar case down, flat in front of him, and opens it. Retrieving his notebook from his backpack once again, he places it on your lap, surprisingly enough. Wordlessly, he puts his guitar in his lap, throwing the strap over his neck and shoulders, and cranes his neck to re-familiarize himself with his feverishly scrawled ideas. Just before he strums the first note, he says, “Just an idea. Keep that in mind.”

Then he sings. A mix and hesitant laments of love lost, then found, yearning for the past, but hopeful for the future. But other words are not words at all. They’re more, like, messily sung runs. Like he’s sketching lightly, so he can erase later. He’s got a hook. He sings it three times, and the way his Adam's apple bobbles is now permanently etched in your mind. When he’s done, he opens his eyes slowly, assessing the damage done. He almost looks surprised that you’re still sitting there.

You whisper, voice whisked away in the gentle breeze, “I never asked your name.”

“Mark. Just Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘Just Mark’.”

“What do you think? How do you feel?” Two entirely different questions, both of which hit your ear in a way that makes your stomach leap- or maybe it’s the gravelly timbre of his voice and unsure eyes.

“Good,” Mark’s eyes spur you on further, silently asking you to elaborate, “The song sounds good and I feel good.”

“Is that the only adjective you know? ‘Good’?”

“I know a lot of adjectives. I’m just… nervous. So, yeah.”

Mark grabs his notebook and returns it to his backpack, packing up his guitar as well. As he stands to leave, he turns and says, “Your name.”

“What?”

“You never told me your name.”

“_______,” you reply meekly.

“And your hand,” he urges, “give it to me.” You extend your arm and Mark delicately grasps your wrist. Then, Mark nervously scrawls his number on your palm, pen digging into your skin slightly. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you have any thoughts beyond it being ‘good’, gimme a call.” And just like that, he’s gone, running down the hill to make it to practice on time.

As Mark ends his retelling of events with a wistful hum, Haechan chortles. “Yeah. You two disgust me.”

[tim-shii]

a/n: tim posting sunday on a sunday? defo not intentional. inspired by that interactive golden hour map where it took me 15 minutes just to find blade !! idk what this is i just really wanna write him🧍‍♀️ silly bf tho 😋 silly sunday 😱 cw — barbie mentions, ooc sunday (idk him that much yet i need another week to psychoanalyze him properly forgive me)

“it’s like a mini golden hour.”

“it is a mini golden hour.” it never occured to you that sunday would be the type of person— leader, to have a diorama of the city. it’s equipped with mini working bubble pinballs and mini treasure chests that you’re sure the trailblazer will enjoy opening.

you look at sunday who's a few meters away from you, tending to his little sandpit. “what exactly is this for?”

“just a base model.” he shrugs, as if his vague answer satisfies your curiosity. nonetheless, you dropped the topic and walked over to him. you drape an arm around his waist with a hum, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“... what are you doing?”

“fixing the npcs.”

“fixing? you’re stacking them up like pancakes.”

“they seem to have no problem with it.”

“they’re npcs!” you hit his bicep. sunday huffs and passed you one of the figurines. “here. you do it.”

you take the doll and place it in the spot that you’ve been eyeing since earlier.

“you are no better than me.” sunday looks at you unamused, crossing his arms over his chest. he sighs and pinches the hem of your shirt to make sure you don’t topple over on the sandpit. it’ll be a shame if his base model gets ruined, definitely not concerned with the possibility of your faceplanting into the pit.

“robin likes me better so that automatically makes me better than you.” you grinned. “there!” you stand back down on your feet.

“you placed him on the top of the highest building.”

“he wanted fresh air.”

“and if he jumps?”

“he’s an npc! he’s stationary in place.” sunday smiles a little as he watch fret around defending yourself. he lifts his left hand and places it behind your neck in a quick manner, pulling you in and pushing his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up. his feathers brush against your cheek, you felt every flutter of it as he pulls away.

“you were saying?” he looks at you all innocently but you could hear the smirk, the smugness in his voice. he’s very much satisfied with the growing blush on your face. being only inches away from you makes him feel the warmth brewing under your skin from his ministrations.

“shut up,” you push his face away with a palm. "i'm thinking getting you a barbie doll. your npcs are boring— you know what? i’m getting you a customized doll. a mini sunday with mini sunday clothes and your little wings and a little halo. oh! what if we match the barbie movie with robin? so you can get ideas on how to decorate a proper dollhouse—”

“not a dollhouse.”

“quiet! i’m talking— then, you can see how ken acted up when faced with the concept of patriarchy..”

sunday tuned out the rest of your voice. you weren’t boring him, no. it’s the opposite. you’re amusing. every moment with you brings him a sense of delight. instead of focusing on your rant, his eyes zeroed on the red peeking out your ears and if he focuses more, he might hear just how fast he makes your heart beat.

that was the day sunday found out you go on a tangent when flustered and rattled to the bones.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: various times that Dean comforts you because of John.

You and Dean had a special bond. Even before Sam had gone off to college and John disappeared, the two of you had been inseparable since the day John first placed you in Dean’s arms.

He’d been just a teenager then, and you barely a toddler. But he’d flashed you a genuine smile, and you’d giggled, and from that moment on, nothing could separate you.

Dean was the one you always went to when you needed anything, partially because of how close you were and partially because you had no one else.

John was far too consumed with the big picture for you to ever feel comfortable talking about your personal problems, and while you loved Sam, he always tried to psychoanalyze your problems, which was never how you felt like dealing with them.

Dean, however…

…

“Commere baby,” Dean pulled you, his four year old little sister, into his lap, rocking you gently as you cried. John had been gone for five days, and you missed your daddy.

“Dad’s gonna be home soon, really,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you only cried harder.

“Hey, can you bring me her backpack?” Dean asked. Sam tossed it to him.

“Are you alright with her? I want to go get us some dinner,” Sam suggested, feeling bad but also desperate to get away from your crying. You’d been upset for the past couple of days, and he couldn’t take much more.

“Yeah, I’ve got her, bring me back a feast.”

After Sam was gone, Dean lifted you so you were hanging onto his neck and began to rummage through your bag. He came up with a small sippy cup, and went to the fridge to fill it with milk. After heating it up in the motel microwave, he sat back down on his bed and settled you into his lap, placing the cup into your tiny hands.

You quieted almost instantly, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking greedily.

“There you go,” Dean grinned, running his fingers through your hair. “Never too old for the warm milk, works every time, eh?”

You didn’t respond, to intent on the cup in your hands, but you leaned your head against Dean’s stomach, taking a few deep breaths as you finished your drink.

By the time Sam got back, you were fast asleep in Dean’s arms, who was softly humming Metallica.

…

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam’s words were meant to be soothing, but you just shook your head.

“Dad says it was.”

“Well he-“

“Sam, you’re with me. Y/N, ride with Dean,” John walked past his kids as he headed for his truck, and Sam reluctantly followed.

You climbed into the Impala without another word, and you rode in silence with Dean for several long minutes.

“Why are we turning?” You’d tried to avoid speaking, because you knew Dean would notice your voice thick with tears. But you couldn’t resist questioning him when he stopped following John’s truck.

“Because the Dairy Queen is this way,” Dean answered simply.

“What?”

“What, you think I didn’t notice the sniffling and the way you can’t even turn in my general direction? You ain’t subtle kid, now what kind of ice cream do you want?”

You gave up trying to hide your tear stained face and turned to look at your brother.

“I don’t get it. I screw up the hunt, and you’re buying me ice cream?”

“Ok first of all, you didn’t screw up the hunt that bad, ok? I know it was your job to reassemble the guns, and-“

“Yeah, and I lost a piece, and it didn’t work! You could’ve-“

“Hey now,” Dean’s voice rose, and you stopped. “Would you just listen? I know, but that wasn’t the only gun we had on the hunt, we were fine one gun short. Look, I’m not gonna pretend you didn’t make a mistake ok? But everyone makes mistakes, and I mean everyone. And dad went at you pretty hard, and I know how much you hate it when he yells. So ice cream it is, now are you gonna tell me what you want or should we just go?”

Five minutes later, you were on the road again, your tears forgotten as both of you belted out to Dean’s Metallica tape between bites of ice cream.

…

The mood in the motel room had been solemn, to say the least, but no one was willing to bring it up. John had passed away just days ago, and the three of you had barely spoken to each other since. Sam had tried to talk to you, mostly because he knew that every time you went to “take a walk”, you really just wanted to cry your eyes out. But the last thing you wanted to do what talk about John. He wasn’t always the best man, but he was your dad.

What made matters worse, however, was that even though Sam had tried several times to help you, Dean seemed to be avoiding you entirely. You didn’t expect him to try to talk about it, that wasn’t his style, but you also didn’t expect him to ignore your existence.

But when Sam left for a food run and the time came to confront him about it, you were nervous. What if he just needed some space? After all, he was probably the closest to John.

Well, if that was the case, then maybe you could help him this time, but you couldn’t leave things the way they were, it was too hard.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up from John’s journal, which he was reading while stretched out on his bed.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” now that the moment had come, you weren’t sure of what to say. “How’s it going?”

He sighed, gesturing at the book.

“Not great, haven’t found anything of use yet.”

You swallowed, “That’s not really what I meant. How’s it going…like with you?” You cringed inwardly. This sounded ridiculous, even to your own ears.

Dean closed the book, frowning.

“Fine.”

You sighed, “No, really.”

Dean scoffed, “Who are you, Sam? What’s going on with you?”

“I just…I wanted to know,” you shrugged.

“You and me both know that you don’t want to stand here and talk about feelings.”

“It’s better than not talking at all,” you dropped your gaze at this, too embarrassed to meet Dean’s eye. Maybe you were wrong, he hadn’t been avoiding you, he was just quiet or something.

“What do you mean? We can talk, we’re talking now.”

You gained a little bit of your courage back.

“Yeah, and this is the first time in days. Dean, you’ve barely even looked at me since…” your breath caught. You couldn’t say it, not yet.

Dean seemed to catch on that you were done, and he sighed.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re-“

“I’m not just a kid anymore!” You didn’t mean to yell, and when Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise you brought your voice down. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he cleared his throat, and found the words.

“I can’t fix this.”

“What?”

Dean put the journal down and gestured for you to get closer, so you climbed up on his bed and sat next to him.

“I can’t just buy you a treat and play Metallica and wait for you to stop crying, ok? I can’t put a bandaid on this. I can’t distract you from it, it’s too big.”

You looked up at your big brother, and his eyes looked more broken now than they did when John died.

“You wanted to fix this for me?”

“Of course,” Dean reached up and brushed a stray tear off your cheek. “That’s all I ever want to do. But baby…I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding you, you’re right. And it’s because I know I can’t make this go away.”

“You don’t have to make it go away. I don’t need an answer to all life’s problems, I just need my big brother.”

“But what do you need me to do?” He demanded desperately.

“Be here.”

You could see in his eyes that it wasn’t enough, he needed to know he was helping you. You sighed softly.

“Open your arms.”

He frowned, but obeyed. You scooted closer, depositing yourself in his lap and leaning your forehead against his chest. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, one hand coming up to cradle your head.

“I just want this,” you whispered, and you felt Dean’s arms tighten comfortingly around you.

“Then I’m here,” he promised.

When Sam came back, tired and worn down, he felt a smile creep onto his lips when he opened to motel door to see you asleep in Dean’s arms, and it took him less than a second to recognize Dean’s humming as Metallica.

[scoobydoodean]

Made a similar post before but... I think people in their minds actually revise 2.03 Bloodlust to be this episode where Sam is on this "Monsters can be good" train before he ever gets kidnapped by Lenore and he then is burdened with the task of convincing poor stupid idiot Dean who isn't as open-minded and rational as he is to think for just one second and then at the end of the episode, pats him on the head and tells him not to feel guilty about it when he finally becomes enlightened like Sam has always been but that is not how that episode goes.

Sam's immediate reaction to the alleged existence of good vampires is not any different from Dean's. He immediately rejects the idea that the vampires aren't hurting anyone, and throughout his entire conversation with Lenore, refuses to believe her until she goes, "Fine. I'll let you go to prove it to you" which rocks his whole ass world.

Face of man having his whole worldview toppled sideways and having to figure out how to adapt:

So yeah after this Sam and Dean get into a 2 minute fight about it which turns into a completely different conversation because Sam decides for the third time in three episodes to try and pretend he's Dean's therapist then (badly) psychoanalyze him about how Gordon is a substitute for their dad and it (shocker) doesn't go well. But then Gordon steals the car and the moment Sam and Dean walk into the room where Gordon is torturing Lenore, Dean's feelings about the entire thing happening in front of him are "This is bad. This is very bad."

The SECOND he enters the room Dean picks a side, and it isn't Gordon's.

Just like Lenore "proved" her goodness to Sam by letting him go, she "proves" her goodness to Dean by resisting the temptation to consume Sam's blood... but Dean started defending Lenore and trying to get Gordon to back off the moment he entered the room.

Dean is also much more thoughtful about where this leaves him and Sam in terms of their past hunts while Sam doesn't consider the past at all?

Istg people rewrite this scene in their minds to be Sam approaching the whole thing from the perspective of someone who was already "enlightened"... but he wasn't. He was equally shocked by the revelation of good vampires possibly existing in this episode. He just doesn't bother to also consider the implications as far as any previous case they've ever been on. He doesn't feel any guilt about it he just lets it go with a shrug and Dean doesn't.

Add to this that in 1.12, Sam was the one with the hardline stance that they couldn't kill humans—ones who would get away with their crimes because they committed them by supernatural means—and that doing so would make them "just as bad" as the things they hunt. The only difference between a human using a reaper to murder people for clout, and a monster murdering people, is the physical characteristics of the monster versus the human. Dean sees a human using a reaper to murder people for clout and says, "they're a monster in my book". He argues they should take care of it because of the human's actions—otherwise there will be no repercussions for the human involved, while Sam draws a hard line that they can't kill a human simply because they're human and for no other reason. This is also crunchy in terms of how it might relate to Sam's eventual feelings about his inner nature making him evil, versus Dean's actions-based analysis.

Sam has a lot of compassion for Max in 1.14, but it's gone by 2.05 when his reaction to Andy is to immediately assume he's a murderer while Dean rightfully thinks there's something else possibly going on... and that's two episodes after 2.03 Bloodlust.

[chaoticspeedrun]

saw ur recent post and thought

lets all stereotype the tmnt simps like they’re animals at a zoo together chaotic

[insert funny picture of us staring at the funny ppl in the cage with their desired turtles (i lowkey couldnt find a meme that would suite this 😠😠😠)]

raph simps ; either fiesty gremlins who’ll bite ur toes off if you go near them and spray them with water or sweet little souls who’ll tuck you in bed and give you forehead kisses. both simp types aren’t rare and are commonly found together as a pair, explaining their view on the himbo buff boy raph and how they can either “fix him” or “make him worse”.

leo simps ; traumatized beings, it doesnt matter if you’re a cocky and mean in a loving way or a i’ll do anything you say because you’re so great kind of leo simp, you’re traumatized in some sense, whether it be through fiction or real life. you guys lowkey ENJOYED giving ur oc’s or self inserts loads of angst when it came to the future and movie. man, you guys have so much love for this one turtle his ego is literally thru the roof.

donnie simps ; a true simp. let me guess— you like nerdy men who are also queer as hell, who is also straight as hell at the same time, who is also the type of man you’d expect him to do nice things for you to only throw you under the bus. listen up you simps, i understand that the few of you “down down bad” simps are into that and might sans fangirl your way into this— but let me explain and introduce you into the “ilovehimsomuchiwoulddieforhimandhisbigforehead” simps. you’d be an awesome duo trust.

mikey simps ; now i KNOW you guys got something beneath those precious and fluffy oc and self insert moments. there has gotta be SOME SORT OF EVIL ANGST AND TWISTY MOMENT YOU GOT GOING ON— much more worse than the leo trauma, FARTHER WORSE— teehee you guys got such a cute puppylove selfship going on teehee 😊😊WELL WHABAM!! the moment mikey gets his mystic powers n angsty moment in the movie out comes the freaking angst beast and comfort waves following behind it >:))))

— 🖼️🗝️ (guess whooo 🙃🙃🙃)

Not me looking at the way you signed and going "Who's Keyframe?" I AM HAVING A DIFFICULT TIME FIGURING THIS ONE OUT.

Also, I love psychoanalyzing people💖

In my opinion, from what I have seen at least, most Raph simps I've interacted with are like really sweet and anxious people that REALLY NEED A HUG just like my boy Raph.

The Leo simps, as I said earlier, enjoy bullying him so much- and with that I mean, they're most times the kind of people that tease or bully their crush, but they care so much about him and love adding so much depth to his character.

The Donnie simps I know can't drop the color purple for ONE DANG SECOND, the color is everywhere all the time all at once, they seem very curious and are some of the ones that I see the most active in the fandom.

And Mikey simps are freaking wild, one minute they're the sweetest and the next they're jumping around the walls and scaring you, I love those.

*Sips on coffee, staring at the cages*

Ah yes, what a wonderful and interesting set of specimens.

[ari-just-ari]

S1E5, 17th minute roughly, Will and Hannibal in his office

"Jack gave you his word he would protect your headspace, yet he leaves you to your mental devices."

'-' -=- "..You trying to alienate me from Jack Crofford? "

"I'm trying to help you understand this angel man that you seek"

"Oh, huh, help me understand how to catch him. "

This is such an interesting piece of dialogue between them. Of course, every piece is interesting, but this one especially!

Will is smart, you can't really manipulate him without him noticing, not really. Hannibal already saw him react quite quickly and actively to actually working with HIS mind (from S1E1 introduction of the two to the words that come right before: will noticing that Hannibal changed the topic to his mental state, ridiculing him for it but allowing him to proceed). So Hannibal knows Will knows when his mind is messed with in a psychiatric manner.

Will always asknowledges. He calls it out twice just in this scene, first the analysys and then the manipulation.

Now I wonder if it actually works — because the ridicule and the callouts are Will's coping mechanism of sorts, but the problem was now brought to his attention, and could he really keep himself from seeing all of Jack's actions through the question "has he been dismissive of my state" now?

But what I truly think Hannibal is doing here is shifting the focus not necessarily ON Jack, no, that would be too forward for a man-that-speaks-in-implications. He's shifting the focuse elswhere, away from himself, for now.

And truly the next two lines need to be analyzed in a separate post because they're about another thing entirely, but they go together so why not. Or do they?

The next two are.. Subtle and brilliant. Hannibal reveals his true intention here, to make Will empathise with these killers even more, to make him go into their heads deeper and deeper. Maybe to observe Will do it. But overall, it is truly just for Will to understand the new killer. He does not care for the killer to be captured, the motive is the empathy itself. In fact, he may benefit more form the criminal not being caught, since the longer the investigation, the deeper Will goes (see Hobbs's case).

For Will, he would rather catch the killer faster, so he doesn't have to do it at all. The empathy is even less than a tool, it is an UNWANTED tool — he hates when he has to use it, yet it is helpful, so he feels like he kind of has to. Because not using it means he is allowing people to be killed, basically.

So Hannibal tells Will the raw truth. With a bit of omission sprinkled on top, because the context prompts anyone to believe that Hannibal would want the investigation to succeed too. Only the viewer has this context, and can therefore understand Hannibal's true motive. Will doesn't know, so he can't. But he feels it somewhere in his empathetic guts, and therefore his emotional reaction is to call him out on it. He is annoyed with himself for not getting everything first try, always. And he doesn't quite know it, because Hannibal ruffled his feathers right before by psychoanalyzing him, but Will is annoyed Hannibal is not exactly helping him. Not in the way that hi wants.

[thighguys]

hey guys could i get a favor. when phil mentioned their car i actually felt tears in my eyes and i had to pause the video and think about that for a minute. this has affected me profoundly and i have no idea why. so anyway back to the favor can someone psychoanalyze me?? wtf is wrong with me?? they are grown men so why is them having a car something that makes me feel broken inside

[snaillock]

i’m sorry but the fact that rin is canonically flunks most of his class except for english (cause he be on that sigma soccer grindset babyyy) has been lingering in my mind for like a week or so oh my god

like imagine him not caring enough about those classes (why care about your geometry grade when you’re gonna be the best striker anyway or whatever’s going on in his head) until one of his teachers nags him about improving his grades, even suggesting a tutor. at first he’s way too prideful to seek help from a tutor but the teacher’s incessant nagging made him give in and find a tutor who’s happens to be another student in his school, most likely an upperclassman.

while he’s waiting for you to show up clearly running a few minutes late, he mumbles to himself about how unnecessary and “lukewarm” this tutoring shit is.

when you finally showed up and gave your quick apologies for your tardiness, you took one look at rin’s impatient/borderline judgmental face and decided it was best to cut out the fluffy introductions and dive straight into it.

he’s pretty reluctant about telling you what exactly he’s having trouble with in class since being here already bruises his ego enough. not to mention, he’s very doubtful about your skills as a tutor (definitely isn’t personal ofc, he just be like that). you, of course, prove him wrong and also get him to share what he’s struggling with so you can actually help. then surprise! surprise! he already shows a lot of improvement by the end of the session.

the way you get him to open up about his academic struggles with ease kinda freaks him out but he goes along with it

there was just something about your patient yet stern way of teaching that made rin drawn into that made him focus up and actually work. clearly a step up from his shitty lukewarm teachers. after that session, rin soon found himself booking another one… then another… and another after that… ok look you just have an efficient way of teaching that does not cut into his precious soccer time. it’s not because of any other reason, he swears!

i imagine when he lowers his walls and slowly starts falling in love, he becomes a huge mess internally. can you blame him though? he’s never done this before. he’s never felt this before. oh my god. what do people even do when they’re in love?? what the hell even is love??? someone please answer him before he starts spiraling!!!

while these questions run around in his head, he watches as you explain the assignment he has to do for one of his classes, too engrossed in teaching to notice the redness on his neutral face

eventually he accepts his feelings for you but he’s still very lost on what to do now. after all, he has only had people fawn over him and he has never returned those feelings before. thus he has no idea what to do when he’s actually interested in someone and gets stuck for an indefinite amount of time.

oh rin itoshi. the man who can literally psychoanalyze the opposing team in 0.005 seconds and knows when to perfectly strike also has absolutely no clue on when and how to ask someone out.

so now the ball is in your court if you reciprocate his feelings and want to become more than just mere tutor and student

a.n.: this was supposed to be a three sentence thingy idk what the fuck just possessed me today

[kashlyn]

I've had my bi representation (especially that bi panic cuz I felt that), my poly representation, my autism representation, my body type representation, my women representation, my wallflower representation, my low self confidence that someone can actually love me for me representation, my lack of boldness representation, my hatred of lies but always needing to keep secrets representation, my feelings of wanting to raise my voice because I always end up invisible and people planning things for me even if it's my business and problem representation, my complex relationship with my parents and siblings even if I love them representation, my stuttering to speak out in public but I know I have to representation, my "I love them but I don't know how I can forgive them" representation and so much more

I kid you not i cried in this season... More than once. In each episode.

Hell, even my psychology major brain kept screaming at all the things I can psychoanalyze and notice!! Like their first sex scene and Pen can keep going but Colin needed 5 minutes or 10!! (I always screamed whenever I read how men can always keep going and not need breaks at sex scenes while the female is always the one who need a moment cuz I know men need more recovery time than a woman!)

My favorite book might have been "On the Way to the Wedding" but Netflix made sure that "Romancing Mister Bridgerton" is my favorite season in the series.

[uniquetosmbody]

https://www.tumblr.com/minecraft/735421859251847168/psychoanalyzing-the-genderidentity-dichotomy imo this post makes ice skater!Sanji and hockey player!Zoro even more accurate

LMAO I love the concept

With that we can assume that sanji is the one that took the first step, like trying having a talk (cause I swear zoro is a grumpy big boy that doesn’t like (read want) to talk to strangers).

In the moments when zoro is leaving the ice rink finishing his training, sanji is sitting waiting for him to clear the rink to have his train right after. Every time they have a small talk (we’ll… sanji is trying to make some little steps to know him better) but zoro is always so quiet and trying to leave as fast as he can.

Sanji pissed off every time when zoro is leaving him without a proper conversation after all these attempts.

In the reality zoro is just a shy boy, who has a huge crush on sanji and he doesn’t know how to act near him and deal with these feelings. But he does know why he always takes a few minutes after his training, just to meet with sanji when he takes the rink after zoro.

Idk what will happen next but this au has a lot of great fics on AO3, with other plot but still a great works to read

This au and this idea is completely free to your imagination so feel free to tell me your ideas or little dialogues zs might could have.

So yeah, just have fun!

The arts im talking about