Tumgik
#just a lot of minimizing
cascigarette · 1 year
Text
it's really interesting to me how they wrote and how jarpad played sam's trauma from the cage through the soulless sam arc and the hallucifer arc. like when he's soulless he's very much like dissociated out of body hypersexual kind of trauma response with memory gaps and no real sense of self. when he gets his soul back he does sort of a 180. he's overwhelmed, he's hallucinating, having intense flashbacks, using self harm to ground himself, feeling hyposexual, he can't help but remember. I just find it interesting to see his initial trauma from the cage and how it changes over time, how it changes him
280 notes · View notes
wardingshout · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I'm also having a lot of fun with this game!!
2K notes · View notes
ovcii-doodles · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Counselor: Just my observations. Does this evaluation make you...anxious?
a colored version of this lineart I did a while back (aka washed hands interview my beloved)
223 notes · View notes
crumbleclub · 10 months
Text
michael: do i really have trauma, though?
jeremy: dude. your dad is literally a serial killer
michael: yeah, but he didn't serial kill me
391 notes · View notes
57sfinest · 1 year
Text
calling harry a “can opener” was SUCH a good play for so many reasons i think about it every day.
in the context of his work, it makes him a tool. as many people have pointed out, including martin luiga, part of the hdb tragedy is that he simply cannot leave the force, and his superiors know that and are using it to their advantage. no matter what happens, even if harry hated every nanosecond of every bit of the work and wanted to leave, he can’t and won’t leave. they can leverage anything they want against him and then reel him back in with a facade of kindness when they “allow” him to keep his job, as long as he does what they want him to. the 41st knows he has this inexplicable talent with people and they use him for it. he’s a cop: that talent can be used in so many awful ways, to push so many different agendas. and they won’t even be his own. a can opener has no particular desire to open a can, aside from maybe the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose. a can opener has no agency, it’s just a tool for someone else to use to get what they want. and he’s learned to be okay with being used as long as it means he gets to stay. his complacency with this system makes him guilty even if he’s also being harmed by it.
but in the context of his personal life you kind of... flip it. the people around him are going to be opened up whether they want to be or not, and it’s terrible for his relationships. it’s shown that the questions, the prying- the can-opening- it’s become inextricable from who he is as a person. it’s like he doesn’t know how else to communicate, except it’s hardly communication when you’re just ripping people open. he’s invasive as all hell, although whether he means to be is debatable. he’s the kind of person that wants to take things apart to see what makes them tick. he dissects people, but really that’s too delicate of a word for what he does; if he doesn’t get what he wants right up front, he’ll abandon all subtlety and go for brute force. if he can’t get your screws loose he’ll just smash you on the ground and pick through your pieces until he’s satisfied, and if what he did to you isn’t fixable? oh well, there are other cans to open. 
and he’ll use it for personal gain: we already know he is (was?) manipulative. once he knows how you operate, he knows how to make you keep him. he can yell or he can cry; he can threaten you or he can threaten himself; he can be completely suffocating or he can withdraw completely; he can be an incorrigible liar or brutally honest; he can present himself as a threat or a joke or a talent. he’s a chimera- that’s why he’s got this inexplicable magnetism, even when people know they shouldn’t like or trust him. fidelity of character means nothing to him. he’ll be whatever he needs to be as long as it gets him what he wants. the can-opening is just his way in.
880 notes · View notes
moeblob · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
I am really tired of a situation rn.
#fe three houses#felix hugo fraldarius#me using felix on my angy days because he is my angersona? you bet!#anyway if you want to try to get someones money or something bc you hurt your own car banging into mine#can you try to be a bit more timely with it buddy come on you hit me on feb29 !#why am i getting your insurance company calling me today !#also i would like to point out i didnt do it and neither of us were hurt and i filed a claim with my own insurance comp#and also filed a police report bc he didnt even suggest calling the cops to the scene#so like yeah hey man maybe you and your insurance company can move a lil faster or smth#literally everything that happened the day of is - according to my dad - an intimidation tactic#i look like im 15 and he probably thinks he can take advantage of a new driver but ya know! tough luck!#im just really tired and stressed over multiple things not negative so getting this on top of it was like#bro .................... anyway my phone didnt pick up for some reason so i called back and then nothing got resolved#cause the person who actually called me wasnt around to connect the line to from the guy who answered#idk man just its a lot despite my v minimal energy#got a job interview on monday tho ! and then also next week is an eye exam#and you might be thinking isnt that a good thing to get your eyes checked? you are correct but i am horrified#there are two body parts that give me absolute anxiety and eyes are one of them#and i know my eye sight is declining and im just v anxious#its fine im going to be fine i just have to be anxious about it
87 notes · View notes
lavenoon · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"I trust you."
@naffeclipse hope we all enjoyed the funnies because (:
*self insert is not a girl (he/ she)
og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!
240 notes · View notes
miahasahardname · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i am a very responsible individual and can be trusted around mspaint
71 notes · View notes
canisalbus · 10 months
Note
What do you think would have happened if (somehow, idk how but somehow) Machete rose to the rank of pope?
To be perfectly honest? I think most realistically he would've ruled maybe six months at best and then keeled over from stress and exhaustion.
231 notes · View notes
mag200 · 5 months
Text
unfortunately beige can be a really nice color actually but rich people are so fucking bad at it
88 notes · View notes
thehappiestgolucky · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Midnight doodles are for rotating blorbo angst in your brain
170 notes · View notes
the-kipsabian · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
142 notes · View notes
autistic-katara · 5 months
Text
oh my god can ppl find a reason to ship/not ship something that’s in the middle of a ship war w/o trying to make out the other character to be the worst person in existence? honest to god it’s not that hard to say “this ship doesn’t work for me bcz of xyz” u rlly do not need to go “uhhh actually no it’s not character a that’s a horribly racist asshole who thinks SA is cool (that’s so stupid wtf, they barely did anything), its character b. did u not see how they [smallest thing possible]??? can’t believe the hypocrisy u have going on here…” like seriously PLEASE u do not have to justify urself to this level it just makes everything 10x more annoying
67 notes · View notes
sorrelpaws · 6 months
Note
mr sorrelpaws what's ur thoughts on the new rick and jerry centaur in the latest episode
my most normie opinion ever is that i thought it was kind of funny. the design is so weird in like a humorous way, and i think their deadpan delivery was silly ("do you not hear the symphony of atoms dying in space?"). i mean its definitely a wackier approach but i didnt hate it
64 notes · View notes
sb-1495 · 8 months
Text
cw hallucinations, brief description of violent imagery (torture)
They’re investigating a ruined dungeon when it happens.
The crew was separated after they came across some lone pirate who claimed to be an archaeologist, much to Robin’s amusement. He was trying to dig up some sort of relic that makes everyone who disturbed it “go mad,” supposedly. Though, the more they talked to him, it was clear that he was messing with things out of his depth, the surrounding ruins leaking with something sinister. And as the crazed man struck the wall with his pickaxe, the ground crumbled beneath them and swallowed them whole.
Which is how every Straw Hat found themselves stranded in a labyrinthian ruin.
Zoro’s not afraid, because he knows he can keep his senses about him.
More so than usual, the place is a goddamn maze and Zoro keeps hearing little sounds like the shift of blowing sand and water dripping somewhere that he can’t pinpoint. But no matter how loud he yells, he doesn’t hear a single one of his crewmates call back. He considered just smashing through the walls, but he recalls Robin emphasizing the flimsy structural integrity; one load-bearing wall could bury everyone, and Zoro doesn’t feel like digging that much.
So he stomps aimlessly through the quiet rubble, ducking through worn stone arches, listening for anything, any familiar voice that could lead him out.
“Help…”
Zoro freezes in his tracks. That was. A voice.
“H-Help…!”
Zoro clenches his jaw. He knew that voice. But at the same time he didn’t. That was the stupid cook’s voice. But it didn’t sound right.
It wasn’t right.
“S-somebody… please… I ca-can’t—”
Zoro starts to walk again. That couldn’t be the cook. It sounded exactly like him. No way was he mistaking that grating voice for someone else, it could only be him. But it didn’t sound any way the cook sounded like before. It must be a trick.
“An-Anyone… I’ll even take… th-the moss head at this point, haha…”
A pained gasp reverberates against the pathways, choking on something, and Zoro realizes he’s been holding his breath. It was a trap, that sounded like Curly, but it wasn’t. When the cook was down in a fight, he was either gritting his teeth to get back up, or he was out cold. He might yell out for backup if he was still standing and conscious, or grumble towards some unspoken agreement if he was back-to-back against Zoro. If he were really backed into a corner, maybe he’d scream angrily.
“Stupid… marimo…”
Zoro steps on something. A cigarette butt, he thinks. He doesn’t pause to check.
But the cook never begged for help. Never sounded so defeated and helpless, the calls Zoro heard just faint whispers against stone. This had to be an illusion, concocted by some sick bastard cloying through his mind for something that would distract him. An odd choice, surely one he’ll laugh about later to his crew once they find each other. He’ll laugh and tease the cook about begging him for help, another point for Zoro in their never-ending games.
“Z-Zoro…”
Except that Zoro can’t laugh right now. He has felt terrible agony. Imagined terrible scenarios. Yet he couldn’t fathom how a sound could fill him with such despair until right this very moment.
“Zoro..! Help, Zoro…!!”
A sob echoes through the halls and Zoro is running.
Something pulls at him, leading him where he needs to be, his feet carrying him so fast that his shoulders are checking chunks of stone out of entryways, and he can’t remember what Robin said about the structure of this place because his voice is calling to Zoro for help and Zoro needs it to stop.
In his mind flashes the scene of a bloodied cook being tortured, with blades stuck through his hands to keep him against the floor, with his legs snapped and sprawled beneath him, his spirit broken and begging for it to end, and Zoro knows this can’t be true, it’s all made up because Sanji is razor-sharp steel just like him, and there’s no way that could happen to him, he couldn’t let that happen to him, and as Zoro climbs steps towards a room with a light, he’s still holding his breath—
“MOSSHEAD, STOP!!!”
Fingernails dig into his arm as he’s pulled back, his leg hovering just shy of the last step.
He breathes. The fog clears. He stares at the ground in front of him. The stairwell he climbed dropped off into a deep, dark pit, several stories of floor having collapsed a long time ago. The light he saw earlier was gone, the echoing voice quieted, and Zoro blinks away the memories as best he can. It takes a few moments to will himself to turn back to the hand on his bicep.
It’s Sanji.
It’s the cook. A little banged up, but no more than usual. He’s alive. He’s fine. And he’s staring at Zoro like he does when he’s half-dead in the infirmary.
“Idiot, you nearly fell to your early demise!!” He yells, finally releasing his grip on Zoro’s arm. He doesn’t mention how the cook was holding it so hard, there were red indents. “Even you couldn’t survive that fall, and I’m sure there are spikes at the bottom of that chasm! There’s some freaky shit going on in this place but I’ve found Chopper and—“
Zoro’s only half listening. It wasn’t real. He knows it wasn’t real. Knew it wasn’t. He was hearing things. He was right, it was a trick. He’s still gasping for air. And as Sanji opens his mouth to shoot a jab at him, he stops.
Zoro belatedly realizes that he grabbed Sanji’s hand at some point, thumb pressed into the palm like he’s searching for some give in his skin. A scar or wound that should be there, but isn’t. He waits for a kick that doesn’t come, his breath still uneven, and oh how he hates that. Hates his body losing control. He tries to take deep breaths, Sanji’s hand an anchor. And when he refocuses on Sanji’s face, it’s softened, brow furrowed in concern, not confusion.
He understood, somehow.
Zoro doesn’t let his grip up. Sanji doesn’t make him let go.
They don’t say anything as they start walking back together, their crewmates clearly unnerved by the sight when they reunite without a fight.
It’s only when they’re back on the Sunny, smoking and drinking by the railing under nightfall, that either of them speaks.
“What did you hear?” Sanji whispers, so quiet that Zoro nearly missed it. He could ignore it if he so chose, and the cook is fully aware.
Instead, he looks ahead, biting the inside of his cheek before replying. “What did you?”
He’s ready to be hit with a retort about dodging the question, but that doesn’t come either. The tension makes Zoro wish that Sanji would just hit him with a kick or a verbal jab. But instead, a sidelong glance spots Sanji twisting his cigarette in his mouth, thinking. Slowly, like trying not to spook a wild animal, he reached out to grab Zoro’s bicep, in nearly the exact same place he grabbed last time.
“Help.“
Zoro’s eye widens, Sanji slowly turning to meet his gaze.
“You were calling… for help.” He says, trying to keep his face level even as his voice cracks.
And Zoro wants to look away, to make a joke, throw a tease, say something, ANYTHING, to make the memories go away, to force himself to forget knowing exactly what Sanji heard, to chuck them out like a bottle to sea, to be found any other day than today.
But instead he nods, a mournful grimace creeping on his face.
“Yeah,” Zoro whispers, the quiet night stretching between them. The only sounds to be heard are the gentle shifts of Zoro’s hand over the cook’s, and the drip of Sanji’s tears against the Sunny railing.
105 notes · View notes
quesadillayuri · 5 months
Text
there's something about empanada being part demon, having the horns and the tail, and tina having to come to terms with the fact that almost everything she hates about herself is seen on her daughter. like tina can rationalize to herself shaving down her horns, but how can she rationalize doing the same thing to her daughter, that hasn't done anything wrong.
44 notes · View notes