#I have no idea how long it took to become a psychiatrist back then

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Btw, still on that dance episode of Frasier, snickering because I went "I find it hard to believe that Niles wouldn't know how to dance at least a waltz. What did they do at his own wedding, otherwise? Surely, even if Maris never dances, you are expected to dance with other people during the evening at these society ballrooms" and then I suddenly remembered that my only frame of reference for this is... Austen's novels and that I definitely have absolutely no idea what was or wasn't done at those shindigs in the late 80s and 90s.

[silenttrxxs]

-joker! choi san x harley! reader

you’d been working as a psychiatrist for years now, always wondering how the brain worked. How the neurons firing computed and became what makes you…you.

You had no idea what you was really in for today. You had been speaking daily with one of your patients and this one being particularly some would say difficult but to you he was just “him”. Choi San, he was notorious for being the most dangerous patient ever. There wasn’t a single diagnosis that could be deemed correct for him. Your entire life was now revolved around trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

What you didn’t realise is that during the daily meetings you had been having, you felt yourself becoming more attached to him. Your feelings towards your patient becoming a lot more difficult to hide. You didn’t want to loose your job but you didn’t want to loose this one chance you may have had with him.

You’re sat at the table, clipboard placed on the metal and your posture profession as it can be. He’s sat across you, staring into your eyes with such a lustful look that it was hard to keep your composure. His lips parting to speak.

“Hey follow me” San said standing up and offering a hand to you. You looked around, noticing you was the only one working the entire a ward today. You grabbed his hand fireworks exploding throughout your body before you reached his “cell” he called it this thinking that being stuck here was more or less a prison sentence and it was time he got the fuck out.

“I know you want me, baby” San breathed out his lips inches away from your ear. You felt your own breath hitching as he spoke.

“S-San we really can’t…” you breathed out your logical sense kicking in for just a second before being completely ripped away from yourself.

“I’d give you the world darling, you’re just as crazy as me, that’s why you can’t find a single diagnoses for me” San said laughing a little.

“You’re unique that’s all I can really say” you said.

San took a moment to look at you in your eyes before attaching his lips to yours and stealing each and every ounce of oxygen from your body.

“F-fuck” was all you managed to breath out before you felt his knee pressed harshly against your core. The heat was sure to be present to him. It was only confirmed once you looked into his eyes. A sadistic smile plastering his face as he pulled your clothes off, throwing them across the room. His hands wrapping around your neck as he pushed you onto the bed. You knees buckling as you hit the edge. Falling onto the mattress below.

“S-San” you breathed out before you felt his hands wrapped around your neck. His knee pressed into your core as he looked down into your eyes.

“Such a fucking slut” San breathed out before digging his nails into your hip. You felt yourself getting wetter the more pressure he added. You could feel his nails almost piercing your skin. He used his other hand caressing your cheek before squeezing your jaw harshly. Your mouth opening for him.

He spat into your mouth, a grin plastering his face as you moaned, your eyes dilating with intense pleasure. You wouldn’t admit that this is what you had been dreaming about for a long time. You whined as you felt the release of his hand from your jaw and the feeling of him caressing your body. Gently rubbing your clit. Whining loudly you threw your head back. He continued his attack on you, his hand still wrapped around your neck squeezing a little before he felt you clenching around his fingers. Taking them out and sucking the juices from his fingers he looked at your face. The sight below him making him twitch.

He took himself and lined up to your core, pushing in harshly, his thrusts almost animalistic as he felt you clenching around him. Your walls coating his cock perfectly.

“G-god baby, you’re made to take this” San moaned out thrusting harder chasing his own high.

A string of curse words is all that could be heard leaving your body, he took his time, slowing a little to mark your body, to ensure you had something to look at later.

He left your body limp, your eyes stained with tears as he ruthlessly pounded into you, you was in his hands now. He had control over you in every way possible. You would let him have you in every single way possible now. He spilled into you for the 4th time that night. His eyes still laced with lust. You screamed as you cun for the 6th time, the peircing noise bring you both to your senses. His eyes locking with yours as he slowed his rhythm, his body relaxing. Slowly pulling out of you he watched as his seed fell from your core onto the mattress below. Taking a cloth he wiped the mess before throwing it somewhere and climbing into the bed. He smiled as you wrapped your body around him. Pulling the blanket over the pair of you he kissed your forehead.

“You’re mine” he hummed a playful giggle leaving his lips.

[mischieffae]

When I saw you had requests open, I just had to JUMP on the opportunity! I have two ideas, but I'll leave them separately.

Hannibal x (preferably female) reader who also happens to be a serial killer. However, think more Joe Goldberg combined with Amy Dunne vibes. She's got a bad past, but when she moved to Baltimore under a new identity as a lawyer (I just like the irony but she could do any job you feel like) she's very determined to leave that life behind her. To be better.

Hannibal just knows she's not as honest as she portrays herself to be. He's a psychiatrist, after all, and goes digging to figure out what she's hiding. I feel like that type of plot can go two ways, rivals, constantly suspicious of each other, trying to cover up their own tracks before the other catches them (She's 100% slightly scared of him once she figures out he's also a wolf in sheep's clothing, with no intention reform like her) or an unlikely partnership (if Hannibal is persuasive enough), or both!

Agh, ik, it's so plot heavy, but I need to get it out somewhere.

Thank youu

~◇~

// I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy!! I love how this was already planned for me. ❤️

Imposter

pairing: hannibal x f!reader

warnings: mention of gore, slight mention of non-con, hannibal being a flirtatious psychopath, cat & mouse, mind manipulation

The life you had before was all in the past now, a reminder of what you had almost become yet it still lingered in the back of your mind with its sharp claws. Tap, tap, tap against the hollowness of your skull as if taunting you to return to that depraved place.

Remember what you did ? Those screams of torment as you etched away the victim's last piece of sanity.

You didn't have a knife at the time, only a shard of glass from the bathroom's mirror. & all that blood - oh, how beautiful it painted on alabaster tile flooring, as if you were a painter with a canvas. The smell of copper always tickled your nostrils in the best way, more of the smell emitting with each precise cut you inflicted upon the poor person's body.

The sharp banging of the judge's gavel brought yourself back into the present, sweat slightly beading on your forehead. How long has it been since you had those vivid thoughts? It seemed like a century ago, but in reality it had only been a couple of years. You were determined to start over, start a brand new life with a brand new career. A lawyer, of all jobs. How typical. You wanted to bring justice back into your life, to mask your true intentions in hopes of it completely going away someday.

But perhaps the past wasn't shrouded in darkness.

There was a slip-up of course, not too long after you had your little incident in the court room. A man of foul intentions had followed you home one night after a long day at the office, cat-calling you with each drunken stumble he took in your direction. You tried to ignore him, body tense with each stride of your clicking heels against wet pavement. Perhaps going down one of the alleyways wasn't the best idea, but you had thought you had lost him by the time you took that sharp turn.

Of course such plans did not go accordingly, & the drunkard had found you like a cat waiting to feast upon the frightened mouse. He had found a way to wrap his arms around your trembling frame, a hand lifting to cover your mouth as you attempted to yell your strangled pleas. It was enough to send you over the edge, that little girl who so desperately wanted to change her life now taking a back seat as you began to feel that urge running through your veins.

Your hand dove into your coat's pocket to retrieve a metal pen, fingers wrapping roughly around its base before plunging the device into the poor man's eye socket. A small sigh in content escaped your lips against his sweaty palm when you heard his horrid cry of pain, that sweet sweet sound you had almost forgotten about. Now, it rang through your ears beautifully, his body then slumping to the ground while he held his eye with hitching sobs.

"Please - ....I-I'm sorry... I'm..."

That was all you needed as you then plunged the pen into his skull once more, then another.....and another....until that drunk face was unrecognizable. Until that damn bastard was a pile of filthy flesh upon cold stone. & that smell of copper, it made your skin crawl with delight as you sighed in content.

But it was then as if reality hit you, your body trembling as you gazed downward with rapid gasps of adrenaline. No, no, no...You were good, you were normal again.

You had to see him.

-------------------------

Blunt nails tapped against that familiar leather chair with nervousness, your teeth grazing upon your bottom lip as you gazed around Dr. Lecter's extravagant office. He took notice of your hesitance, fingers ceasing to write down his notes while gazing upward with curiosity.

"Something is on your mind..."

A matter of fact statement, your eyes meeting golden hues that you could've sworn began to swirl into a darker shade.

"Work was just -....a lot today."

You hoped your little lie would go unnoticed, however you failed to cover the small patch of blood on the outside of your palm. Hannibal took note of this, licking his lips subtly before continuing.

"It is not work that is on your mind, is it? Something else seems to have your mind hostage."

A gulp formed in your tightening throat, your chapped lips forming into a shaky smile. It wasn't very convincing, & you knew of this. But, how could you inform him of your encounter earlier this evening? You had some suspicions of him, some little doubts that pecked in the corners of your mind from time to time. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, however you could feel that there was something off about your therapist.

Something...more omnious.

"I can assure you, Dr. Lecter, that it was just work today. Nothing more."

His lean frame lifted from his chair with an elegant stride, moving towards his art ridden desk while gliding his fingertips along his drawings.

"That is not what I suspect, judging upon the blood that lingers on your hand."

Shit -... you had forgotten about that little detail, your jaw clenching tightly from his observation. His eyes trail upward with a raise of his brows, those pursed lips forming into a small smile.

A smile? Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest, as if it were about to combust and fly out the window like a caged bird. You couldn't move, a deer frozen in fear as he began to walk towards you with a predatory aura.

"You do not need to hide from me, you do not need to HIDE what you truly desire."

He stops to stand before you on the chair, his body moving to kneel in front of you as if you were a rabbit that was easily startled. A thumb moves to glide gently upon your cheek, resting just below your bottom lip as he stares with interest.

"Have you killed before?"

That word made you gasp in response, fingers clutching the chair's arms with white knuckles. He has FOUND you, he can see you past that broken mask. A single tear runs down your cheek in defeat, a small nod forming while you whisper softly.

".....Yes.."

A satisfied hum sounds from him, a deep tone that makes your skin crawl. He brushes away that fallen tear, not wishing for it to drop upon the floor and go to waste. That hand moves to cup along your jaw in an almost lovingly manner, those haunting eyes finally meeting your teary ones.

"I can help you, little mouse. I can help you overcome your fears. Those voices in your head. If only you would allow me.."

Finally, someone can see the torment you have been dealing with for the past couple of years. Someone who UNDERSTOOD you. A broken sob sounds from you, a quivering hand reaching upward to grasp his wrist tightly, as if he were to disappear like an apparition.

"Please...Please Dr. Lecter..."

He had caught you, those claws sinking into your mind as his smile widened to show pearl teeth.

"You are not alone anymore....not without me."

[slaaverin]

To hell and back

This post is very difficult to make for me. This is not about BTS, or about fandom, but about mental health, and my personal story. I never really opened up about it anywhere except in a few facebook groups. But today is the day I decided to speak about my story.

It is surely more for me than for you.

Very few people in my friends and family can really understand what I have been going through, because it is a topic so complex that even I have trouble understanding it sometimes.

Well, firstly, I am schizophrenic. At least according to science. If you asked me though, it would be a different answer.

The truth is, I became spiritual again when I was 25, not long after discovering BTS. I took on a meditation practice and grew my consciousness very quickly.

Someday, I had an idea on how I would be able to help the collective, and I thought about becoming clairaudient (hearing the other side). So, I "hear voices". I followed my intuition on how to achieve this, and after some time it actually worked, I could hear.

So this ability to hear was totally consented on my part, I wanted this from the start.

But yeah, according to science, when you can hear anything, they put a schizophrenic label on you. I think it's mostly that they are in over their head with this kind of subject, and they simply don't understand everything enough to really be able to help anyone, except with medication.

Unfortunately, the universe is bigger and more nuanced than a label, so I never really got help from psychiatrists. I had to navigate through this on my own.

Everything was going fine at first, I was learning how to use this ability, and things were going well.

But someday, everything went to shit.

I won't go into that much details, I'll spare you, because it is pretty horrific. But long story short, I made a trip to "hell". Literally.

Of course, I myself do not believe in the christian hell. I've studied spirituality enough to understand it is not that literal, and there are many realms with different purposes.

But there are some dimensions that are close enough of what we would imagine hell to be like. And I have gone there.

I spent 2 weeks in 2 dimensions at once. In my physical body, but also in this dark dimension.

It's not really important to believe in this, or to argue whether it was real or not, because the thing is, my experience, impressions, feelings, all of it, were real to me. It felt real. It felt tangible. The mechanics does not matter, what matters is that I experienced it, and the trauma from it was real.

It was the most horrific, the darkest, the most twisted, so terrible that words cannot even give it justice. It is an experience that I felt somehow was a glitch in the matrix. Like we should not be able to experience something like this, it should not be allowed.

But it was. And no matter how much I cried for help, prayed all the gods, begged, no one came to save me. I could not sleep, did not eat, and barely functioned during those 2 weeks.

I felt left there, abandoned, alone, helpless, in total despair and horror, and with a pain that was so profound that I thought it would kill me. I was patiently waiting for death to take me, in how much my heart was broken into a million pieces.

I got annihilated entirely by the end. No emotions, no thoughts, no personality, no beliefs, nothing that made me me, was left.

I was gone, an empty shell. I had been entirely destroyed. A metaphorical death.

But something was left. A tiny flicker.

It was the light of my consciousness, my divine spark.

I understood then that even the worst darkness that exist would not be able to destroy my light, and that I was eternal.

So all of my fears vanished. I began clinging to that light and use a strength I didn't even know I posessed to crawl back from the pit of my own hell.

I had PTSD for years after this experience. And it was not truly over. I was still plagued by many interferences, trickster energies, evil things.

But over time, I healed, and brought back the pieces of myself that were scattered, and my psyche, even with PTSD, began to mend.

But now I had to learn how to play "the game". How to not get tricked, how to keep my internal balance despite being surrounded by nothing but darkness.

Some day the darkness put so much pressure on my being that I thought of ending my life. And that's not really like me, because I'm really pro-life.

But it's like I've been through some fucking intense internal military-like training, with no rest, with no pause, and no mercy. Ever.

It pushed me to my limits.

So of course I transformed. I became stronger mentally, I learned discernement, I took my power back, literally my entire being was totally refined.

I mastered "the game" of darkness, outsmarted them, mended every breach of my psyche, moved past all my fears, and my mind became as cutting and sharp as a knife. It took me years, but I learned the lesson. And I can say that darkness was my greatest teacher. The wisdom I gained, there is really no price for it. In the end I saved myself.

Today, I am good. I work very hard to keep my internal balance, to remain optimistic, to keep spreading love around me.

If you saw me you wouldn't tell I have any particularity lol

But to say this whole process has been hard is a understatement. It is SO FUCKING HARD like it's so hard and complex and layered that's it's really a bit ridiculous?

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a very bad movie, so I guess the universe and my higher self really have a weird sense of humour. But I laugh it off too because it's better than crying about it.

I know we are never alone, and that everything supports us, but the illusion that we are is really strong sometimes. Almost no one would be able to understand my experience, without having lived it, so I feel like I'm bearing this cross on my own.

But you know, all of this really puts things into perspective. The fact I have been in a place such as this, survived, and came back, makes every other little problems in life feel truly trivial.

I don't know what your faith is, it is not really important. What I learned in my studies is that most people who actually go to those places had things to learn, it's never "some punishement". It's clearly not because I deserved it.

But I did my share of learning indeed. Today I feel like I am a better version of myself thanks to this experience.

I believe it was for my highest benefit, because I can't reconcile senseless pain and hurt in my mind with a loving god. I know things aren't random.

It all began because I wanted to help. So in sharing my story, I want you to share a message of hope.

The deepest pain, the darkest fear, nothing that is abyssal and scary and any emotion you might feel, none of it will actually hurt you. You cannot be hurt. You cannot be destroyed by anything, ever. We just think that some emotions will kill us, so we avoid to feel them. We fear, so we flee.

If you actually embrace your fears, it won't kill you. It will liberate you. Nothing else will happen.

You know why we come to earth to have crazy experiences and we don't mind the trauma and the pain that come with it? Because our souls know that we are not taking any real risk in the first place.

Your light is deeper than the deepest fear, largest than the most painful hurt, and you are safe at all time, even if it doesn't feel like it.

So please, rest easy, don't take life so seriously, it's all going to be ok. We will all wake up from this dream someday and go back to love, and it will only be a memory, a blip in our eternity.

We are safe & loved.

I think I needed to get all this out of my chest.

(Please don't feel the need to psychoanalyze me or feed me religious doctrines, I had years to process and really understand the mechanics of everything that happened to me so far, but obviously I didn't want to turn this post into a million words so many aspects are left out.)

Thank you for reading my post and take care💜

[dragonrider9905]

What Tooka You So Long?

Happy birthday @imabeautifulbutterfly!!! I hope it is filled with many blessings and much happiness! It’s been so wonderful chatting with you and reading your stories. I’ve been a fan for so long ;D I hope you accept and like this little gift I have for you :) ❤️🤗

Also @clonexreaderbingo this fits for my square “alone”!

Bending over flimsi for long periods of time is not advisable. Fox would know this.

Not just from the bothersome brothers who are medics, like Kix, telling him to stop and take care of himself, but also from experience. Currently, he’s been bent over the same piece of flimsi for three hours alone. How long he’d been sitting there for the entire stack on his desk….he didn’t know. From the tension and ache in his back and shoulders, he had a pretty good idea.

….he hated to think about how long he’d been sitting there for all the paperwork he ever did….

…And how much more would he have to do for the rest of his life?!…..

Suddenly, a tooka jumped him from out of nowhere!

Breaking not only his musings but…

Spilling his precious, delicious, delectable piece of crap, no excuse for good quality, absolute awful caff all over his desk….and flimsi.

Fox’s heart sank. It was due tomorrow…

With a heavy sigh he stood up, bones popping and muscles protesting.

Ah great.

There was a krink in his neck too.

Now his paperwork was all messed up AND he was sore. He quickly cleaned up the mess with some rags he had around the office. He’d forgotten why they were there but he used them anyway. If he didn’t remember, then it wasn’t important.

With another sigh, he looked down at the little, adorable intruder currently purring against him. Secretly, Fox had a soft spot for these incredibly cute, fuzzy creatures, (he didn’t let it out lest he’d never hear the end of it) but not today.

Scooping up the tiny culprit, Fox headed out the door with his third sigh that minute. In one hand, he held the empty mug, in the other, the tiny fur ball increasingly becoming attached to him, not only purring but wrapping its tiny paws contently around his arm and hand.

He didn’t know where the little guy came from…it isn’t like they were allowed in the building or were easily let in. Someone must have smuggled him in.

“Whatcha got there, hey Commander?” Hound teased.

Fox’s unamused scowl would have been enough for most, but not his brothers. “Not caff, that’s what.”

Fox trotted on past the sound of Hound laughing behind him.

He growled and hefted the animal to a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm. He made his way through the halls, to where he didn’t know. He supposed he was just going to let it outside when he heard a woman call out. He saw your face light up at the sight of him holding the kitten and ran towards him.

“Ohhhhh, you found her! Thank you! I’m so sorry if she bothered you or got in your way!”

You took her from his arms, holding her up to look her in the face with an angry pout.

“Naughty girl, Zula. No running off.”

Fox tilted his head. He knew you; you were the psychiatrist for the Coruscant Guard. He liked you because you always treated them all like people and not headcases. It also didn’t hurt that he found you rather pleasing to look at. Which was a secret he kept next to his love for tookas. He’d been wanting to meet you for some time. He never had time to make his appointments with you but that freed up time for his other brothers to go. He didn’t have the guts to go up to you in person so deep down, the curse of this morning was secretly turning out to be a blessing. He liked Zula a lot better now than five minutes ago.

Now he just had to figure out what to say…

You looked up at the clone blinking blankly at you. He hadn’t said a word yet. You knew about the stoic Commander—you’d heard lots of stories about him but never met him in person yet. He refused to show up to his appointments with you. You didn’t know if it was an insecurity of his to talk about his problems or if he had a problem with you specifically. Either way, this was the first time you were ever encountering him.

“I’m so sorry. She helps my patients relax, but she’s not totally trained yet and this is the second time she’s snuck out. It only takes her one second.” You sighed. “Let me please get you something for your troubles…”

You noticed the empty caff mug, realizing what probably happened. “Oh no, let me get you a refill…I hope she didn’t ruin anything.”

“No problem ma’am. There is no need. Glad to be of assistance.”

Fox tilted his head but kept his stoic face plastered in stone.

“I can get you a refill real quick! I have my own machine…”

“It is alright. I, uh, don’t need any more for today. Don’t let her get away again though. But if she does, let me know and I’ll track her down for you.”

He inwardly cringed at how demanding he sounded, the slight growl he worked to perfection coming forward. Instead of being taken aback, you smiled, charmed.

“Sure thing, Commander. Thank you. And thank you for your offer. It was great to finally meet you. I hope I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Definitely, ma’am.” Fox titled his head respectfully again. “Have a good day.”

With that, Fox headed back to his office.

“You too, Commander! If you change your mind about the caff, I have a whole bunch, more than what is good for me so feel free to stop in!” You called after him cheerily.

Fox half turned to grace you with a small smile before turning away so you wouldn’t see him turning as red as his armor. There was no way you meant that to be friendly…probably one of your mind tricks to get him to show up for an appointment…but would that really be so bad? Fox ran over the encounter in his head again. It was so brief but his head was whirling.

If she does, let me know and I’ll track her down for you?! Really, Fox? Couldn’t think of anything better? That was real smooth…not.

He scolded himself. He knew you worked in separate worlds, but he hoped your paths would cross again, not in a professional setting that is. He found himself elated in the fact his grumpy exterior didn’t scare you away. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Kriff, why leave it to fate? Why not just set it up himself? He could do that. He was Commander for goodness sakes! And by setting it up himself, he didn’t mean to become your patient. There were other ways.

Double kriff! He didn’t ask you for your comm number!

Ugh, today was not his day.

But the tooka did wander into his room before…perhaps it would again?

Fox left the door open, hoping the mischievous tooka would find its way back to him.

— — —

Quinlan Vos’s debriefings had got to be one of the most interesting ways to debrief a debriefing. Fox rubbed his temples and headed back to his office. He liked the jedi. He was efficient and got the job done…but sometimes he was just…so….much. Goodness gracious he was glad to have him on his side but serving with him on the next mission would be…interesting. If the last mission was anything to go by, the next pile of flimsi was going to be six inches high again.

Fox might as well say goodbye to sleep for the next week right now.

He quickly shut the door behind him and leaned against it.

Fox took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back. He never allowed himself many breaks, but this would be an exception. He needed a moment.

Rubbing his eyes, a pleasant smell wafted into his space. One that he knew well. Man, Fox must be tired because he swore the scent of caf invaded his nostrils. He never refilled his caf, and if he did, it would be cold by now…no, this was warm and steaming and waaaay more rich than the swill he was used to.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he walked toward his desk, and sure enough in the center was a steaming mug of his favorite beverage. The container was unfamiliar to him so he stared at it blankly for two whole minutes wondering who left their caf on his desk. What they wanted and why they didn’t wait for him to come back or perhaps how they got in in the first place. His office was secured…

Then he noticed the little scribbled note beside it.

It was for him!

Enjoy on me! I know you said it wasn’t necessary but I wanted to do something for you. Sorry about the spill. Hope you like it! Thanks for being a hero. Zula is such a troublemaker; she needs rescuing every once and a while and I’m grateful to know that when she goes missing, I can rely on you.

The writing was yours. Of course he’d know your script anywhere—you wouldn’t have needed to sign it but he loved that you did.

Perhaps today wasn’t a total failure then. Unbeknownst to him, a small smile crept up the corners of his lips and stayed there for the rest of his shift.

— — —

A few days later, little Zula did indeed find her way back to Fox’s office. The tooka’s visits became sporadic and he worried the troublemaker would find a new favorite place. So, he started leaving little treats to lure the creature back to his office consistently just so he could return her to you. His plan worked rather well. Every day at noon, Zula would slip out of your office and find him. It was perfect because you both had lunch at noon, and not only would you not be interrupted but Fox could spare a full fifteen minutes to talk to you if he wanted. You would offer him caff most of the time, and it was heavenly. He tried not to accept it all the time so he wasn’t taking advantage of your generosity (let’s not discuss the flow chart he kept in his office of the days he accepted and didn’t just to be sure). You always smiled brightly handing him the cup, and Fox never ceased at the joy you received from giving.

He just wondered how long it would be until you’d tire of it…

— — —

Of course, you were well aware that was what he was doing. At first it was a pleasant surprise, but when you noticed a pattern of not only Fox showing up every day with your pet, but that she was leaving at the same time everyday….mouth slightly wet with saliva or covered with crumbs…..you knew. And you weren’t complaining.

You just played along with it for as long as you could. You figured you could only play dumb so long. Then again, he probably knew you were playing. Man was an investigator! Why he continued the little charade, you didn’t know. But you were fond of your guess and didn’t want to let it go. As long as there was no definitive answer, you could dream away.

You knew it wasn’t advisable; games of the heart weren’t safe to play.

But here you were. Looking forward to every visit he paid you and hoping it wouldn’t be the last. You actually got him to laugh last time. Actually laugh! You’d gotten him to chuckle on a regular basis, which you delighted in, but something rang different seeing the stoic man break down, holding his gut while tears fell from his eyes as his voice echoed in joyous waves. To be honest, you can’t even remember what you said, but you’d never forget that moment.

You stirred your caf dreamily, eyes far off and smile bright. You didn’t even notice Fox approach you.

“Hello? Tooka got your tongue?”

You looked up sharply to find Fox in front of you yet again, holding your ‘runaway’ pet. You smiled.

“Oh no, I was just thinking. Hello Commander Fox.”

Fox was glad he was wearing his helmet. The only other thing that made him blush more than his full title was when you just said his name. It felt so personal…he felt seen.

Here comes that unfamiliar feeling again. The only one he got when he was around you.

“What brings you here today? Other than the naughty girl,” you side eyed the playful creature purring against the red armor happily, “did you have any more crazy missions to report? One of the other legions playing pranks against the Guard today?” you chuckled.

“No…not today,” Fox chuckled back shyly, “there was actually something else,” he coughed, “something else I wanted to tell you…ask you!” he quickly corrected.

Grinning to the side stupidly, you encouraged him on, “Alright, go ahead.”

He let out a breath and swung his arms. “Okay.”

Seeing Fox so nervous was just too cute. You tried not to laugh and mess him up but your giddiness inside was trying desperately to make its way past your smile.

“OOOOkkkaaayy. Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeated, biting your lip. “Right.”

“No,” he looked down with a breathy laugh, “not that…”

“Then what is it?”

“I just…really need to tell you. I like you. A lot. Would you consider going out with me?”

You chuckled. “You have no idea how long I’ve ‘considered’ it. Yes!!!! What took you so long to ask?”

Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in Fox’s chest. He didn’t know quite what it was, but that was one investigation he was looking forward to. Deep inside, something broke.

It wasn’t something he needed anyway.

It was only the feeling he was meant to be alone.

Replaced with a feeling of belonging and love.

[icarus-does-fall]

It's short an stupid but it fixed the brainrot <3

The hannigram fic idea that suddenly started rotting in my brain<33

I love these two crazy mfers a totally normal and reasonable amount

Somewhere in season 2 ig but like also just sorta an AU lmao

I need hannigram domestic bliss (except they're still crazy<3)

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

Will had once again been arrested and then set free because of over lying factors. It was becoming something of a pattern with Will being framed and then coincidently let go because another killer took the fall.

Hannibal, was of course the one still setting up Will, afterall he did stab Will only to moments later confess his love, but he'd be damned if other people kept saving *his* boy.

It was clear these two had a… problematic relationship but Hannibal knew how to be domestic on occasion, and these were one of those occasions.

After stabbing Will and begging for forgiveness while confessing his love, he immediately fled to Italy. Not long after did Will find him, they always knew where the other was. *Somehow*.

So of course Will found himself in Hannibals Italian Villa and one morning Hannibal and Will ended up in the kitchen together, Hannibal was cooking breakfast and Will was being a casual menace.

“William, please put the knives down, I need them to dice the chives.”

“Or I keep holding them, and try to stab you when you get too close.”

Hannibal sighed and continued to prep the needed ingredients for breakfast. “I have already apologized for that, must you keep it over my head forever?”

“No I don't have to, but it's nice seeing you squirm with guilt every time I mention it. More convenient than a gun this early in the morning too.” :3

Hannibal merely gave Will a slightly annoyed look as he took the Knife out of his hands and then kissed Will on the nose before going back to finish breakfast. Will bluescreenned for a moment, while yes Hannibal had admitted his feelings open affection from the man was still a strange concept.

“You're an impossible puzzle to solve Will.”

“Yeah- Anyway whats for breakfast?”

“We have caramelized french toast with a mixed berry compote for your child like behaviours, and I have a fiddlehead omelet with bacon and a homemade salsa.”

“That sounds- Hey wait a minute, I'm not childlike! I'm an FBI agent who have taken care of himself the majority of his life.”

“William, you point a gun at me whenever you want to get your way and pout whenever you remember your dogs are still in the states without you. Furthermore you pout whenever you don't get your way.”

To even further prove Hannibals point, Will pouted as his behaviours were pointed out one by one. The down side of living with and liking a psychiatrist, you tend to get psychoanalysied without your permission.

“Just shut up and make your breakfast already-”

Hannibal smiled smugly as he turned back towards the stove. A few minutes later breakfast was done and plated, Will sat at the bar, causing Hannibal to scowl from his place at the table. He mightve been a cannibal but he still had table manners.

Hannibal silently glared at Will, trying to will Will into sitting at the table. It eventually worked but not in the way Hannibal wanted. Instead of sitting nicely Will was sitting cross legged in one of the chairs and was breaking almost every table etiquette rule there was. But at least he was at the table.

“William…”

“I haven't done anything!”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite positive about that William?”

“Uh… yes?”

Hannibal nodded disapprovingly and continued to eat in silence, now Will wasn't nervous per say but he definitely was a little on edge from Hannibals reactions. Knowing his luck he'd end up with an ear in his mouth again while he slept.

Besides that one incident the two had a fairly calm and casual morning. Will did the dishes as Hannibal cleaned the table, after the chores were done the two ended up on the couch together watching some nature documentary that Will liked.

“You know this isn't going to last forever right? If I found you Jack is eventually gonna show up at the door too-”

Hannibal nodded, absent-mindedly pulling Will in closer to his side. “I am well aware of Jack Crawford's efforts to find me but I have ways to delay the inevitable for now.”

Will was about to say something else but Hannibal cut him off with a kiss, even going as far to bite down on Wills lip until it bled- The might have started to be a little more than civil but that didn't mean Hannibal didn't have issues anymore.

A gasp and a soft moan slipped past his lips as Hannibal kissed and bit him. Yet he returned the kiss with a similar fever leading to him tugging on Hannibals shirt, only to then he pulled away from.

A coy looking Hannibal smiled as he looked at Wills flushed face. “Don't get carried away now William, we still have a documentary to finish watching.”

[dropintomanga]

Sometimes, Mental Health Pros Suck - On ANN's Pulled Nagata Kabi Review

So I heard something controversial happened in the world of manga reviews. And it quite happens to revolve around a manga figure a lot of people know too well - Nagata Kabi.

Nagata's latest release in the U.S., My Pancreas Broke, But My Life Got Better, was reviewed by Anime News Network. While I normally find their reviews of manga to be fine, something about this one ticked off A LOT of people on social media. Then I heard it got pulled off the website a few days after it was published, but I later found it via Archive.org.

So I read what the review was like and there's a few points that came to my mind.

First, I can see why people were saying the reviewer, who is an actual mental health professional, was condescending towards Nagata's experiences. Throughout all of her works, Nagata always seems to be going through something. It can make someone think that she's not trying hard enough, especially if you're a professional whose job is to help people like Nagata.

Second, the reviewer expressed frustration over Nagata not getting better. Maybe some of the frustration is warranted, but the thing is the reviewer doesn't really know, know Nagata. They're only getting a glimpse of Nagata's personality through her works. While the works do provide a clear and often heavy picture of her life so far, I don't think they tell the whole story. I remember Nagata saying she struggles with how she portrays herself in her memoir manga compared to how she is in person. There's always multiple layers to a person.

Lastly, I know people are saying "How dare they call themselves a mental health pro if they are acting like an insensitive prick." My response to that is because psychiatry/psychology has become a conflict-riddled field where some professionals turn out to be pricks. They are taught a very Western way of thinking in that the individual has no one to blame but themselves for whatever mental health disorder they have. All of the solutions should be placed in the hands of the individual. A lot of mental health professionals aren't trained well enough to strongly consider factors (i.e. cultural/socioeconomic) outside of the individual that cause people to have mental distress.

While it does suck that Nagata seems to have something going on most of the time, I do want her to be okay. I don't want her to force herself to be happy for the sake of other people. I have a lot of compassion for Nagata. While the reviewer says that she should get the professional help she needs and considering the reviewer's earlier comments, I honestly don't know if it might be the best idea for Nagata.

A long while back, when I was in therapy, my social worker switched me to a different psychiatrist than the one I was seeing at the time. I was originally under a Chinese psychiatrist, but my social worker said the new one fitted my schedule more. So I said alright. The new psychiatrist was a really old white male in his '60s-'70s with glasses. When I saw them for the first time, one of the first questions he asked was "How is my sex life?" I was aghast and questioned why he asked that. Then he went on to say "Maybe you should get a girlfriend. It can help your depression." Over the next few sessions, that psychiatrist's line of questioning about my well-being became a bit too personal to my liking. I told him to stop asking those questions and he apologized. I later told my social worker that I don't want to see him anymore despite her saying that he's a funny guy.

Seeing that review made me think about that awful psychiatrist experience I had and I do not want Nagata to go through moments like that because there's a good amount of bad apples in the mental health industry.

I'm glad ANN took down that review because they're not mental health professionals. And people like that reviewer are one of the big reasons why I got rid of the Manga Therapy name. I don't think professionals have all the answers to life's problems.

Going forward, there was a good question asked on social media - how do you make mental illness relatable to those who don’t have it? That's hard because mental illness is always portrayed as "crazy", "sick", "mad", etc. While it's clear that extreme forms of mental illness can be problematic, I feel that depression and anxiety are normal signs that the world is messed up. You think that people in power want to admit that they're the ones causing a lot of mental health problems?

You know, I think all people living with mental illness want is to not just be relatable - they want compassion, that's it.

And in a way that doesn't come off as something that sounds too much like a professional/expert, but more from an actual human being that doesn't have to act like one.

[sonicasura]

I am back with some more hcs regarding the Pacific rim x Kaiju no.8 crossover:

Instead of fighting General Isao Shinomiya to prove his humanity, the Jaeger division suggested a mind meld with Kafka to access his memories and headspace to show that this is still very much the same human Kafka they know and figure out how and when exactly this transformation into Kaiju thing happened. Mind melds with Kaiju are also very dangerous, so if both parties in the mind meld finish unharmed then that would add a point to Kafka's humanity. In all honesty, what really is humanity? What makes an organism be classified as worthy of humanity? The Jaeger pilots always feel their humanity slipping bit by bit and become more mechanical as they operate their Jaeger's more and more often.

Hoshina was initially encouraged to join the Jaeger division instead of the defense troops because of his specialization in close range combat. Mina picked him up into her division one way or another.

When a coreless Kaiju is slain it's like a whale fall. While whale corpses are normal in nature and will eventually decompose (after an already long period of time), Kaiju corpses take much longer to decompose naturally unless a cored Kaiju is around to eat it so there are still Monster Sweepers for coreless Kaiju that specialize in working in the ocean. It's not a good idea to let a Kaiju corpse just float in the ocean for anyone to sea, it could end up beached.

Reno met Kafka as he was cleaning up a coreless Kaiju corpse. Kafka was helping out with the clean up. Saved Reno from a cored Kaiju instance that was trying to get a bite of the corpse that wasn't pleased with humans trying to take its free meal away. Canon with a twist ensues.

Reno is unofficially adopted by the Jaeger division, he might be part of the kn8 DF, but they got him first.

The rivalry between PR troops and kn8 troops is so strong that even first and third divisions would set aside their differences to get one over these guys. Only for Kafka to arrive with a big dumb grin on his face and call Captain Ashiro by her first name.

The rest of the Jaeger pilots took the distraction as their chance to kidnap Reno. They have been infected with Kafka's parental instincts. Reno being thrown back and forth like a hot potato. He shall never get his peace.

Kafka's size can vary, not sure if he should be a cored or a coreless Kaiju. But, if we're going for the size of coreless Kaiju being his max then he'd be more suitably coreless.

Kafka has a pseudo Core as the mosquito kaiju(who I call Tiny) heavily altered all of his body for this more different No.8. In the small canon appearance, he's a Core Kaiju but shifting into the much larger form he becomes Coreless. Due to this Kafka is the first Type Shift class.

Tiny and Ai(the consciousness for Kafka's kaiju form) definitely made the test mind meld a bit awkward. Poor pilot wasn't expecting an impromptu interview with an actual kaiju nor for the latter one to be so similar in personality to their resident himbo. While Tiny didn't disclose his origins, both do convince the Defense Corps that their only enemies are Kaiju.

Poor Reno definitely isn't ready for the hot potato game to come. Good thing he's a good mediator especially after Kafka casually addresses the Captain of the 3rd Division. (Mina didn't know what to think about learning her childhood friend being a Jaeger pilot.)

I would say being 'lost in the drift' does have mental side effects for Jaeger Pilots than becoming immersed in your partner's memory. The Defense Corps make sure to have a psychiatrist alongside a session of mental evaluations and exercises for them. Can't exactly have your fighters walk around like they are Mr. Roboto.

[timidrose3791]

I was seventeen when I found out about my brand of OCD: homosexual obsessive compulsive disorder. To make a long story short, I was obsessed with the idea of being a lesbian because I wasn’t completely “boy-crazy” and didn’t feel like I was properly feeling attraction to boys, despite not feeling that way about girls ever (I wouldn’t get to the bottom of this until I learned I was aegosexual and somewhere on the aromantic spectrum when I was 21, but that’s a whole other story).

At first I thought it was internalized homophobia, since there was so much misinformation spread about OCD but an overwhelming amount of LGBTQIA+ information available to my young ears (not enough for me to learn my actual sexual and romantic leanings, but again, I digress). And since I was staunchly supportive of my LGBTQIA+ fellows, with a few misunderstandings along the way, I was disgusted with myself for being a “homophobe”. So I was simultaneously trying to convince myself I was not gay (because I wasn’t) and shaming myself for being homophobic and a fake and pathetic excuse for an ally (which my mental health issues happily took as self-flagellation).

So yeah. Not fun.

It wasn’t until I got into therapy and found my own space inside the queer community that I actually started to realize how my compulsions for my OCD weren’t homophobia, they were straight up insanity. I remember as my compulsions were rapidly escalating before my mom dragged my ass to my psychiatrist, I was not allowed to look at, speak to, touch, or otherwise perceive anyone who even remotely presented as female, otherwise I was gay. So I couldn’t hug my mom, little sister, grandmother, etc.—to say nothing of the hundreds of women I was going to school with, being taught by, and reading about in books and watching on TV, because those counted too. To top it off, I had to “feel” sexual attraction to every single person even perceived as “male” or else I was a lesbian, including but not limited to my male relatives, book characters, a picture of a severely-dehydrated muscular Arnold Schwarzenegger on a magazine cover, and so on and so forth. And when I couldn’t fulfill any of these insane requests (because seriously, wtf . . . looking back this looks unreal to me) the panic I would experience was crippling.

To be clear, the issue wasn’t that lesbianism was “a sin” or “scientifically repulsive” or anything like that; I just did not want to do it, but since I hadn’t become obsessed with boys like most other girls in my age range, which every. Single. Adult in my life assured me I would, I felt like I had no other options. But I did not want to do it. I had no desire to kiss a woman, be romantically or sexually with a woman, but that is what my brain told me I must want. But I didn’t. I didn’t want anything. And that’s where the issue started.

I didn’t want to talk to my parents about this, not because I thought they would reject me for being a lesbian, but because I didn’t want them to tell me that I would have to come to terms with being a lesbian—and keep in mind, my parents still are conservative Republican, or aligned therein. I had the same fears when my mom took me to see my psychiatrist after I had a crying fit in the parking lot and refused to go into school with all the girls in there. There was absolutely no fear of what society would do to me were I anything but heterosexual in a VERY CONSERVATIVE part of the country, only the fear that I would have to accept something about myself that I did not want to be true.

To this very day, I still point out the day my psychiatrist looked me in the eye and told me I wasn’t a lesbian, I just had OCD, as one of the best days of my life, for the sheer relief I felt if nothing else. I was crying so hard but I was so happy that I wasn’t crazy and I wasn’t being a homophobe and a bad person and I could get help for myself that didn’t involve forcing myself to be something I couldn’t be. That day started me on a path to helping myself recover from my self-imposed Hell, a journey I’m still on to this day.

I don’t talk about my OCD in depth with very many people in my life (again, I live in a conservative part of America with a lot of rampant homophobia and transphobia, and I don’t want to give any of them an excuse for their bigotry) (and maybe I still feel some guilt as well), but I always speak up whenever people chock being neat and liking things orderly as “being a little/so OCD” because that’s not just it. I’m autistic as well, and my own neatness had nothing to do with my OCD—the two couldn’t be more uninvolved. And it was that same misinformation and lack of factual information about OCD that led to me suffering without a diagnosis for five some-odd years, sending my mental health into a downward spiral and decimating my social interactions. If I had had more than misconceptions about what Obsessive Compulsive Disorder actually is, I could have saved myself a lot of pain and misery and trying to force myself to be sexually attracted to “male” plastic reindeer decorations, lol.

Talk about OCD. Educate each other. It may save a life.

Greetings bugs and worms!

This comic is a little different than what I usually do but I worked real hard on it—Maybe I'll make more infographic stuff in the future this ended up being fun. Hope you learned something new :)

If you are still curious and want to learn more about OCD, you can visit the International OCD Foundation's website. I also recommend this amazing TED ED video "Starving The Monster", which was my first introduction to the disorder and this video by John Green about his own experience with OCD.

The IOCDF's website can also help you find support groups, therapy, and has lots of online guides and resources as well if you or a loved one is struggling with the disorder. It is very comprehensive!

Reblog to teach your followers about OCD

(But also not reblogging doesn't make you evil, silly goose)

[herearemythoughtsjustincaseidie]

My name is pat and, for as long as I can remember, I've had an intense fear of death

It has caused me sleepless nights, panic attacks, and so so many tears. I like to keep busy, because it helps to avoid the thoughts. But they become so loud in the dead of night, where nothing can distract me from the simple fact that someday, i will die.

.

The first time I realized that I was going to die, I was maybe 5 or 6, I cried to my parents about it. They didn't help me much, all my mom said was That's just how life is; Similarly to plants we will all eventually grow old and pass away.

I've no idea why they thought that would be comforting to a small child, but their confirmation just scared me even more. That was the night that I started praying, begging, to the Lord: Please make everyone immortal. I don't want to die, and I don't want anyone I know and love to die. Every night until the eventual end of my faith, I would beg Him over and over and over again. Please. I don't want to die.

.

Eventually, I learned how babies were made, and it confused me. I couldn't understand why anyone wanted kids. If parents loved their children so much why the hell would they subject them to the experience of death by bringing them to life? I couldn't wrap my head around it.

That was when I started resenting my parents for giving birth to me.

.

When I got my first job straight out of college, I was in the worst mental state I'd ever been. I was struggling at work due to my then undiagnosed ADHD and I was in a relationship with someone who couldn't relate and would keep implying that I just needed to try harder. That was the first time the thought dying wouldn't be so bad had ever popped into my mind.

When I realized that it was there, I didn't know how to feel.

.

Seeking out help was hard. Being in a country that doesn't really prioritize mental health as much as other countries do, and being so uneducated about how and where to look, it would take me a couple of years and a pandemic for me to eventually look for a psychiatrist.

My first psychiatrist was a lady who was nice enough, but gave off some slight red flags that made me uncomfortable. Like being 30 minutes late to a 1 hour appointment that lasted for like 10 minutes. And also immediately diagnosing me with ADHD and giving a prescription for Ritalin on our first meeting.

After that experience, I took the meds and it actually helped me with my work. I realized that maybe I did actually have ADHD even though her assessment was kind of bullshit. But because I was so turned off by my doctor I never went back. It would take me 2 more years and a couple of layoffs/terminations for me to seek out help a second time.

.

My second psychiatrist was kind and gave off motherly vibes. She was sweet and understanding and understood my concerns with how quickly my first doctor recommended drugs to me. She made me go through a relatively thorough assessment, that involved getting other people to answer questions about me, and a ton of expensive lab tests before she recommended me to try Ritalin again. She even helped me get a PWD ID so that it wouldn't affect my wallet as much as it would have. I told her about my trouble sleeping, and she gave me recommendations that actually helped.

To this day I'm still with her. And if I'm going to be honest, my productivity at work has improved, and my sleep is at least somewhat controllable now.

.

Looking back at the whole mental health journey, I kinda wish I never found out I had ADHD. Or at least that I never got help for it.

Now that things are looking up, now that I'm in a better healthier relationship with someone I'm madly in love with, now that I have 2 dogs that I care for with all my heart, now that I'm actually becoming happier, the bad nights have returned. Louder. Scarier.

.

When I was suffering, I at least didn't mind dying, you know? At least the thought didn't kill me as much anymore. I was starting to be more accepting of it even though I was still scared. At least I could lean on the thought of when I die, at least I won't hurt anymore

.

Now, I have so much I don't want to lose and so much I don't want to leave behind. So much I still want to do. The older I get the worse the fear has gotten.

And you know, sometimes I think of just getting it over with. I hate the anticipation. The suspense. The sinking feeling I get whenever I realize it could happen any time. If I just get it over with, I'll at least have control of it. I get to decide and I won't have to think about it anymore.

But at the same time, I'm not sure if I can ever be strong enough to do it.

.

.

.

My name is pat and, as of writing this, I am 26 years old. I have an intense fear of death, and I think my fear will eventually be the thing that kills me.

So here are my thoughts, just in case I die.

[maraudine]

Missing a dear friend

About a dozen years ago, I made a close friend. We were both studying to become schoolteachers and I developed a crush on the broody blond with the long hair and the warm brown eyes. We became close and one day he told me I should meet his girlfriend, we'd surely get on so well… and we did. The three of us became close, even after we both dropped out, and I moved 5000 miles away. Whenever I would fly back we would meet and spend the night chatting about our worries about the world and our interest for the esoteric.

She was about 25, and he 35, when she decided she needed to be alone. They'd been together almost 10 years. She'd gone from living with her parents to living with him. She wanted room, she wanted to meet other people, to live on her own. The break up was bad, and I could only watch from afar. She bloomed despite the feelings of guilt, but he was broken, sobbing on the phone, begging me to help him get her back, talking of killing himself. It was horrible.

I was so far away and fighting through my own depression, and I didn't know what to do. I begged him to see a therapist, to ask for psychiatric help. And one night after an hour of him saying he was going to die, I told him I couldn't help him, and I blocked him. I ghosted my best friend when he needed me the most.

I took about 5 years, 2 depressions, plenty of antidepressants, two psychologists and a psychiatrist for me to get through my own issues and reach a point in my life where I was content and stable. Thriving.

I kept in touch with her on social media, we even had dinner once with our respective boyfriends. She's a tattoo artist. She's grown so much.

I have no idea where he is, or if he's even alive. I miss him. He didn't have much support, no family, few friends. He couldn't keep a job very long. He was the kind of guy you'd say that life hadn't been kind to. Back then, he was the kind of guy who didn't trust GAFAM with his data, and he was on no social network under his real name. He has a common surname and a first name that's not too rare. I have no idea how to find him. But do I miss him…

I dreamt of them, last night. She owned a jewellery shop in my hometown, and offered workshops on making your own jewellery. When I walked by her shop, he was there, with his new wife, and they had an enrolled in the workshop. We caught up and he told me he was doing better and we hugged.

It gave me a lot of comfort. Strangely, when I told my husband about my dream, he said he'd randomly thought about her too.

It may be silly but I hope it's a sign that he's doing okay, wherever he is.

[northamptoncouplestherapy]

The Top Five Relationship Books For Couples In Crisis

Let’s face it, our media and culture are awash in self-help, be-happy, romanticized relationship advice; knowing where to go to get support and research-backed tools can be daunting. So this week (as promised), I sat down and compiled a list of my favorite top five resources for couples in crisis. Again and again, these are the materials I steer people to when their heart is hurting and they’re longing for more. Because while your relationship is unique, specific issues that you struggle with are probably not.

My field, marriage and family therapy, is in the middle of a renaissance, with thinkers like John Gottman, Stan Tatkin, and Brent Atkinson paving the way for deeper connection, secure functioning (regardless of your past), and healing from betrayal.

And given the current national shortage of couples therapists, it’s more important than ever that you have some tools that you can turn to independently.

So if I was stranded on a desert island with my partner (or at home locked down in the throws of a pandemic) and we were steeped in gridlock and negative sentiment, here are the top five resources I’d want to have packed in my bag, to set things right:

5) Codependent No More, Melody Beattie

It took me decades to finally crack the cover of this modern classic and New York Times bestseller. As a professional, I was skeptical and wrongly assumed it was another pop-psychology self-help book. But when I finally got around to reading it, I was blown away by how helpful, practical and vital this book is. If you struggle with setting compassionate but firm boundaries, if you wonder whether someone else’s problem is your problem and have lost sight of your own life in the face of their struggles, this book will offer you immense guidance and support.

4) The Three Faces of Victim, Lynn Forest

This online article is required reading for all new couples beginning therapy with me. Based on a diagram developed by a well-respected psychiatrist and teacher of Transactional Analysis named Stephen Karpman, it explains the “Victim Triangle.” In a nutshell, this article will help you determine your default position when navigating relationship challenges. Are you prone to rescuing? Do you collapse into victimhood? Or are you more likely to resort to blame and persecutory actions? Regardless of where you start, what is essential to comprehend is that we all are vulnerable to inhabiting each of these roles and that they have the propensity to become “shame generators” and perpetuate dysfunctional dynamics.

3) Your Brain on Love, Stan Tatkin

An in-depth audio romp on attachment theory and brain science as seen through the lens of Stan Tatkin, Founder of the Psychobiological Approach to Couples Therapy (PACT). In this fantastic audiobook, Tatkin guides us through his proven principles and practices for building enduring security and commitment between couples, family members, and others that we love. His ideas are a welcome reprieve from our me-centered and autonomy-focused culture. Touting values, social justice, and interconnection, no relationship library is complete without this audiobook.

2) Daring Greatly, Brené Brown

Yes, this book is not a “relationship” book. Yes, this book is not written explicitly for couples. But I wholeheartedly love this book, and for me, it was a game-changer. Perhaps more than anyone, Brown has taught me how to love well. That “clear is kind.” That values and courage are indispensable tools in the psychotherapy office. That the wholehearted sit side-by-side Gottman’s Masters of Marriage. And it was my certification in Brown’s Daring Way™ curriculum that inspired me to write John Gottman and Brené Brown on Running Headlong Into Heartbreak, the Gottman Institute’s number 1 blog in 2019. This book should be required reading for all humans.

1) Developing Habits for Relationship Success, Brent Atkinson

If I had to pick one book to give all couples, it would be Developing Habits for Relationship Success by Brent Atkinson. As the Founder of the PEX method (Pragmatic Experiential Method for Improving Relationships), Atkinson has created a manual that will give you everything you need to get unstuck and move forward regardless of your circumstances. This book is required reading for all NCCT clients, and we consider it so essential we give a copy of it to every couple that attends NCCT for a private retreat or intensive. What makes the PEX approach so unique is that even one member of a couple can make use of it. So if you have a partner who refuses to go to couples therapy or won’t accept influence from you regardless of how skillful you are, the tools offered in this book are critical. Atkinson was the first to teach me about the importance of standing up skills. And not just why they are essential, but how to stand up well. He normalizes core differences. He proposes that we can always get further when we avoid defaulting to a perception of overall blame of our partner. In this sense, his ideas align beautifully with Brené Brown, who encourages us to assume people are doing the best they can, even when what they offer up is inadequate. And if that is not enough, this book, more than any other resource I know, will give you a plethora of exercises, concrete tools, and even audio clips (to listen to when you are freaking out). There is no other book comparable to it, and again and again, our clients tell us it is the most helpful thing they have ever read.

In summary, you can access many excellent tools from home with the click of a few keys on your laptop, and in turn, acquire an abundance of skills to shift problematic relationship dynamics without ever setting foot in a therapist’s office. Don’t get me wrong, couples therapy can be beneficial, and often it is the best way to move things along farther and faster. But having just finished offering my signature digital course, Crisis to Connected, I can assure you that we are all capable of growing and changing and that there are myriad ways to accomplish that.

Click here to schedule an appointment.

[journalofsorts2]

i crave sleep like nothing else. i think i've talked about this before but i'm going to talk about it again. i love sleeping. i mean, who doesn't? but i feel like sleep is an escape for me. i use sleep as an escape from everything. the idea of being at the mercy of my thoughts, on paper sounds like a horrible idea, but in practice, oh, i love dreaming so much. it's like i'm living, really alive, but i'm not in control, i'm not to blame at the end of the day. and when my brain decides to give me a good dream, i think about it for days. i hate waking up. even if it's a nightmare, even if i'm crying out in my dream, even if my legs feel like sand and i can barely move, i hate waking. i will never enjoy it. there's a few brief seconds after i wake up from a nightmare where i know i'm safe again, but i haven't realized the life i've woken up back into, and those few seconds are precious. i told my dad once, i want to be in a coma. he told me that comas are awful and i said, "i know", he told me people get brain damage from comas and i said "i know", i know how awful it would be but, oh, how wonderful it would be to sleep for so long. to be in an endless dream would be peace. i'm not in control but i am, i'm not making the decisions but i am, i'm not real but i am, and oh that sounds so lovely. i want to close my eyes and never open them again. i want to be at the mercy of my thoughts forever and ever. i want to stop being in control of my life. and y'know, sometimes i get to do that, sometimes i get that feeling that i'm watching my life play out in front of me without actually being the one in control, sometimes i feel like i'm watching a movie of my life and i'm screaming at the screen to do something but i can't. and as nice as that dissociative feeling is, i'm too rational for it, i figure it out too easily. i figure out that i'm not dreaming too easily, and while that doesn't get me out of the movie theater, it does break the dream-like haze over it. i think too much for my own good. last night, in my dream, my teeth fell out, this a normal dream occurrence, so normal in fact, that dream me figured out it was a dream because my teeth fell out. said something about how this only happens in my dreams. and it took away the stress of the dream, but it felt wrong. i like this line i tow in my dreams, between lucidity and unconsciousness. i enjoy feeling real enough without actually knowing it's a dream. i don't enjoy fully lucid dreams. because then i gain the control back. once a dream becomes lucid, i am back in control and that is exactly what i'm trying to escape from. i feel like i'm off topic. i was meaning to talk about my increase in sleep. because i've loved this about sleeping for all my life, but i haven't always indulged myself like this my whole life. i've been sleeping in later, napping more, going to sleep earlier. and my dad and my psychiatrist see it as a good thing. they think that i'm overcoming my issues with sleep (not sleeping enough, trouble getting to sleep, etc) and they think me sleeping 12 hours a day plus naps is a good thing. i don't. i know this is a cry for help but all my cries fall on deaf ears. i'm sleeping more because i hate living. i'm sleeping more because, maybe, in my dreams i can enjoy life, i can enjoy existing as me, or maybe, i don't have to be me, maybe i can be someone who's better, someone who likes living. and when i'm dreaming, i can believe the illusion, when i'm dreaming i truly feel as though i enjoy living. and when i wake, all i want is to go back to sleep where i can want to live again. i don't know, i feel like this is a blatantly obvious cry for help but no one cares enough to notice. i feel like that about my scars too. i've been cutting more and more and not covering it up and barely bothering to hide it and no one notices, or if they do, no one cares. no one cares enough to even ask what happened. no one cares about my well being, so why should i? idk, i just, i need to be better but it's so hard when there's not a reason to be better. idk rant over ig

[laalaaliaa]

Okay so I got a little bit excited when I read your navigation so here I go with the request!

Can I get a DC request with Harley Quinn and her sidekick friends to lovers type of thing??? Like the reader used to study under Harleen Quinnzel to become a psychiatrist so the two of them were already pretty close and the reader really admires Harleen and wants to be just like her. But then the reader gets a front-row seat to the Joker turning the reader's idol into Harley Quinn and so because of how loyal and protective the reader is over Harley, the reader joins the clowns only for Harley's sake and becomes her sidekick that would only listen to Harley alone. The reader doesn't like being a villain and frequently tries to make Harley go back to her old self or suggest they become good guys instead and leave Joker forever so he wouldn't hurt her anymore. From that point on the two can have a falling out because of their different views, which results in the reader getting the boot out of the clown family. In the meantime, the reader tries to redeem themselves for the crimes they have committed and tries to become a hero. A long while passes until Harley finally realizes how much of a monster Joker was to her and runs away, having nowhere to go. But then the reader finds her, dressed as a hero, and approaches her removing their mask and revealing themselves to Harley. The two make up and start living together in the reader's apartment with Harley deciding to try out being a hero as well. During all of that Harley realizes that the reader has always been good to her and is her one true love, they both confess and become the most chaotic crime-fighting couple!

The reader can be whatever gender you want, though I prefer if they would either be gender-neutral or female. Also, if this whole thing was too cringe for you, feel free to delete it, I know I could've worded that all better but couldn't. Write it in whatever format you want, however you write it or do it, I will be happy with the finished product anyway! Feel free to tweak the idea or add some things in it if you want as well. Just have fun with it! Thank you if you decide to do this and good luck! ^^

Thanks for the request, I’m sorry if it took awhile, but I loved the whole plot, sorta reminded me of ‘Harley Quinn’ on HBO Max. I also decided to make this a two part story just because i love the plot a little too much~ Enjoy.

Harley Quinn X Eventual!Vigilante!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence

Proofread? No

Limelight pt. 1

Harleen Quinzel was the only person you seemed to mesh with. It all started when you first met her, her sarcasm seemed to match your own, thus came a new beginning for the both of you.

You worked under her wing, you were like a sidekick (if psychiatrists had side kicks of course). Everyday seemed to be a new learning experience, for you at least. She taught you everything you needed to know, and you—well you were just you.

Your arms were stacked with papers, your arms nearly folding under the weight as you carried on towards Harleen’s office.

She was sat in mere darkness, the only light that seemed to illuminate her office being the tiny desk lamp you bought her. With a huff you dropped the papers on her desk, breaking her concentration with the files she scanned through.

“That was totally necessary, and very generous.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Quinzel.”

Her harsh stare towards you seem to break, a smile breaking across her face as she lifted her black framed glasses off, blinking like a robot before she spoke.

“Are these all for me?”

“Yes, a sweet gift from the warden.”

Harleen made a ‘tsk’ noise with her mouth, leaning back in her chair as she tossed her glasses on her desk. You decided to be the helpful person you were, shuffling papers around as you arranged them neatly. Your eyes seemed to buldge out the sockets as you picked up a paper, an infamous grin staring back at you.

“We finally got him?” Harleen looked up at you, snatching the paper out of your hand as she laughed humorously, dropping it onto her files. “Well if you consider Batman dropping him off at our doorstep last night ‘capturing’ him, then yes.”

Harleen seemed to notice the worried glint in your eyes, making her smile reassuringly at you as she stood from her spot, taking your hands in hers comfortingly. “This,” She started, gesturing around her office. “Will be you one day. You can’t let the bad guys intimidate you.”

You seemed conflicted, a child-like frown on your face as you crossed your arms. “I know that Harleen, but this is the freaking Joker we’re talking about.” She seemed amused, trying her best to stop her forming smile as she joked. “Yes, it is the Joker, but he’s just as crazy as the rest, maybe even crazier.”

You became silent, causing her to become silent for a moment. You shifted in your spot anxiously before she grabbed her office keys from her desk, as well as a few other items. “Wanna go for a little walk?” You contemplated, even though you knew she’d kick your ass out and drag you, so you mumbled a lame ‘sure’.

As you made your way through the Asylum, Harleen gave you a quick assessment of each notorious bad guy. To say you weren’t too keen about being in a room—alone might one add—with these bad guys would be an understatement.

“The riddler isn’t too bad.” Harleen spoke, breaking your stare from each of the cells that contained inmates. “He’s like the rest of us, just with a whole lot more problems, and annoying riddles.” You opened your mouth to speak, only to silence yourself as you came across the one person you weren’t delighted to see.

“Harleen, you said a walk, not an evaluation.” You whisper shouted, lingering behind her as she motioned for the guards to open the gates leading towards the Joker’s cell. He was sat on his bed, back towards the both of you as he fiddled with his straitjacket.

“Relax, you can stay out here, and I’ll be going in there.” You placed a protective hand on her shoulder as she began to walk towards his cell, stopping her in place as she glanced back at you.

“What if—what if he hurts you.” You mumbled lowly, physically tensing as the Joker turned around to look at the both of you, a careless grin on his face. “He won’t, I promise. Do I ever break promises?” You only shook your head, making her nod as she turned her back to you once again.

You watched silently as she conversed with the guards standing in front of his cell. Within a few seconds they opened his cell and let her in, shutting it behind her and leaving her all alone.

“A pretty nurse? All just for me, they’re too kind.” He joked, not even a trace of a smile on Harleen’s face as she pulled a chair up across from him.

“Joker, how are you feeling?” She spoke firmly, pressing the recorder on her tape recorder as she stowed it in her lab coat. He eyed her pocket, as if he could see the tape recorder, before he smiled widely.

“Well let’s see, I’m locked in a straitjacket, stowed away from rest, and I haven’t seen the sun all day today, I’m feeling perfect doc.” Harleen silently jotted a few things down, quickly glancing up at the Joker.

“Do you feel angry?” She questioned, his smile still etched on his face as he leaned forward, his teeth shinning at her mockingly. “Angry? I could never, besides I’ll be out of here in no time.”

“What makes you so sure?” The Joker seemed amused by her pressing tone, a cackle falling from his lips as he tried his best to move in his straitjacket. Harleen quickly stole a glance in your direction, catching sight of you, who seemed busy biting away at you nail as you were already staring back at her worriedly. She smiled at you.

“Oh my, a possible lover doc?” She turned back to the Joker who held a mocking smile. She only cleared her throat, ignoring his statement as she spoke.

“Can you answer my question Joker?” He pouted, booing loudly as he leaned against the glass box keeping him locked away. Harleen only stared at him, her stare never once holding fear, making him smile.

“Wanna know why I’m so sure,” He started, gazing back at a curious Harleen. “I’m so sure because one way or another, I’ll get help from the inside, or the outside.”

Harleen wrote silently on her paper, her glasses slipping slightly, causing her to push them up. “What makes you think anyone, in here at least, will help you?” The Joker seemed deep in thought, silence surrounding the two before he laughed.

His crazed laughter went on for minutes, before he leaned towards her, whispering softly, “Between me and you—Harleen, I’ll take my chances with you.” She seemed un-phased, quietly clicking her pen shut before she stood.

“I’ll be back in a few days to see you.” She was swift to stand ignoring his ear scratching laughter before making her way towards the cell entrance and exiting.

She smiled at your worry, silent as you continued to ask questions, even hugging her as you told her how unsafe it was to be alone with him of all people.

Weeks had passed since the Joker had been brought in. Your worries had been off the charts, especially for Harleen. She had seemed to grow a somewhat interest in him.

You believed it to be her caring side, watching from the sidelines as every other day, turned into every single day. With a troubled headset, you stepped into her office, greeting her weakly as she continued to work on her ‘Joker Analysis’ paper.

“Why are you always with the Joker?” You asked naively, watching the way her head snapped up as she looked at you with hooded eyes. “What do you mean?” She played innocent, in hopes you’d back off.

“It’s just, you’ve visited the Joker nearly everyday for the past week now.” Harleen seemed calm, quickly and silently stowing his file away as she stood. She paced for a bit, silence growing between the two of you before she spoke.

“I’m just curious about him, aren’t you? It’s not everyday you get the chance to figure out why the ‘clown prince’ is the way he is.” Your eyes were squinted as you stared at her curiously. You said nothing, only reaching for the files you left on her desk. Harleen seemed stumped, her mood now ruined due to your silence.

“Y/N, why don’t you just trust me?” You quickly turned back to her with a frown, your files clenched between your hand as you retaliated, “It’s not you I don’t trust Harley.” She shook her head, settling back down into her seat as she scoffed, an offended expression on her face as she spoke.

“I’m still Harleen, not Harley, not whatever he claims me as, just trust me Y/N.” You felt a part of you still, watching a defeated expression form on her face before you sighed, settling down across from her. You were being a terrible friend at the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust her, it was him you didn’t trust. He was a psycho, an infamous clown known for his heinous crimes. “Harleen, just—just promise me you won’t do anything you’ll regret.”

She smiled, a light laugh falling from her lips as she held her pinky finger out. You cracked a smile, wrapping your pinky finger around hers. “I promise.” With all your troubles swept under the rug, you spent the rest of the night working alongside her, up until you fell asleep.

Your head snapped up, papers falling towards the floor as a siren rung loudly throughout the asylum. The office was empty, no sign of Harleen as you stood, your vision slightly disoriented from sleep as you stumbled out her office.

You flinched harshly, gun shots ringing out as you made steps backwards, the sight of armed goons coming closer. You stumbled over your feet too many times to count. Stupid heels. With determined effort, you tried your best to find Harleen amidst the chaos.

Unknowingly, and quite stupidly might one add, you ran straight into the chaos. Multiple eyes locked on you, a pair you feared causing you to tense up. “What a surprise, just for good ole’ me?” Joker spoke with a cackle. You silently stood your ground, the tiniest of fear in your eyes as you glanced at his armed goons.

“Where’s Harleen?” The Joker acted confused at you statement, rubbing his gun alongside his head as he spoke, “Harleen? I don’t—oh you mean my good dear Harley.” He only laughed louder, motioning his goons to grab you and bring you closer.

You quickly tore away from his goons, only to land in Jokers arms as he pouted playfully at you. You squirmed fearfully, your voice still strong as you spoke, “Where is she?” He only laughed at you question, pointing towards a figure that was being hauled away unwillingly. Your stomach dropped, and in an instant you tried to chase after Harleen.

You were stopped by his goons who stepped in your path, looming over you with dirty grins as they pushed you backwards, right into the Joker. “Not so fast, I think you deserve front row seats my dear.” Your face was laced with confusion, a scream nearly falling from your lips as his thugs hauled you along.

Who knew sitting in a helicopter across from the Joker could be so awkward. Silence loomed over the helicopter, with the Joker telling unfunny jokes, and his stupid thugs laughing along. Where is Harleen? Seemed to be running in your mind on replay. Had he hurt her? Or worst of all, kill her?

You shivered in fear, glancing out the helicopter with a confused expression as you landed atop the ‘Gotham Chemical Plant’ building. You felt your heart jump out your chest at the sight of Harleen awaiting your arrival. Her clothes were torn and tattered, her makeup smudged and her hair a mess.

You were quick to exit the helicopter first, hugging Harleen in relief as you tried your best to inhale her natural scent. You both pulled away, her with a smile, and you with a worried expression. “Are you okay?”

She only nodded, gazing back at the looming figure behind you, causing you to turn and flinch at a grinning Joker. You opened your mouth to retaliate, only for you to choke on oxygen at the sight of Harleen kissing the Joker. You were stunned, absolutely stunned.

Your heart hurt, was it out of betrayal? Had she been planning this all along? You broke out of your mental dilemma just as they pulled away from one another. “Y/N, I know you’re probably confused, but—I love him.” You only frowned, disappointment for your close friend obvious.

The Joker only ignored you, dragging her along towards the chemical plant. You bit your lip, debating if you should follow or leave, and in the end you followed. Did your heart nearly fall out your chest as you followed them all the way to the top? Yes, it did.

Once at the top, you quickly looked down at the large chemical container, prompting you to back up immediately. Harleen was to busy ogling the Joker who seemed to be telling asking her a multitude of questions. Would he hurt her? You knew he was a violent criminal, but Harleen’s happiness seemed to be the only thing that mattered to you.

“Y/N my good friend, do you know why we’re here?”

You shook your head.

He grinned.

“My dear love Harley—Harleen.” You cut him off, a stare off between the two of you as he gripped Harleen gently. He laughed in defeat, tilting his head down as he nodded. “You’re right, my dear Harleen is here because I think it’s time for my love to be reborn.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement. As if a light switch flipped in your head, you were a second too late. As you reached for Harleen, he pushed her over the edge. Her arms were spread, as if embracing her demise as she fell into the chemical bath. You looked down, tears in your eyes before you turned to the Joker, pointing angrily at him.

“Save her, or I’ll kill you myself.” He laughed at your statement, his hand quick to grip your hair, making you help as he spoke. “You couldn’t even kill me if you tried.” You felt your heart crumble to pieces as you sunk to the floor, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

She was gone.

Harleen Quinzel was gone.

[ccalhoun]

Oh also another one for our dear Dano!Riddler because I love him too!! X male reader with optional smut ideas.

Maybe Edward is with a psychiatrist!reader in Arkham.

NSFW Ideas:

- They could become bonded and it leads to yknow kinda like harley quinn’s situation.

- Maybe Edward notices that the guards are too preoccupied to notice if he slips out one time, going into reader’s office, surprising him.

“I just couldn’t wait til’ our next session.”

Confesses his attraction and yeah sex happens lmao idk.

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

Edward Nasthon x Psychiatrist!Male!Reader

req: yes!

warnings: male reader, bottom reader, reader can be read as trans or cis, top Edward, possessive Edward, Edward Nashton is a bit of a creep, sweet Edward, canon typical violence, psychiatrist x patient, fluff and smut, kind of short

note: sorry this took so long! i started writing a oneshot to go with this and forgot to actually post these

cut for length!

you were a psychiatrist at Arkham, working there because the human brain has always interested you

a new patient was admitted, Edward Nashton. You were the only psychiatrist that he would talk to so you two became close very quickly.

You both had weekly meetings where you learned that Edward was sweet and smart, he enjoyed riddles and puzzles (though he solved most of them quickly)

His favorite color was green so you often wore green outfits which he complimented profusely.

None of your colleagues understood how you could effortlessly get him to open up, but didn't complain as it at least helped him get better.

You got a special green pen for Edward, he loved to write and draw while you two talked so you figured a small gift wouldn't hurt anybody.

you went to your session as normal, setting down the paper and new pen you got for Edward. The therapy session went as every session did except that you didn't get the pen back from Ed.

Edward had waited until the guards were idly distracted, one watching the tv in their office and the other out using the bathroom. Ed had taken the pen apart and used it to quietly break out of his cell.

He didn't plan on escaping though, no, he was going to visit you.

You heard a knock on your office door, you got up, and answered it only to see Edward's 6'0 figure standing over you.

Edward's hand shot over your mouth and shoved you into your office, he closed and locked the door behind you two.

Explanations of what he was doing tumbled out of his mouth before you shushed him and asked why he broke out of his cell to see you when you two had a session earlier that day.

He ended up telling you that he loved you and needed you to know it, he thought of you every day and he even told you how attractive he finds you.

You had to admit, he was attractive himself and was nice. If he wasn't a patient you would probably date him, so you told him that.

"What's stopping you from dating me now?" "I don't see a problem with you dating me," and things of those sorts came from Edward, he wanted to date you and do more with you than just sessions where you assessed if he was mentally sane.

He gave some compelling arguments and you agreed under the condition he doesn't tell anyone about it.

Edward kissed you he was so happy and he was a surprisingly good kisser, his hands were on your hips and yours were tangled in his hair.

He backed you onto your desk and one thing led to another which led to Edward fucking you while you were bent over your desk. He was gentle and knew exactly how to make you cum.

After that, you were extra careful to cover up your tracks. At least once a week, Edward said he would only talk to you if there were no cameras in the room and no one watching you two. That always either led to you getting fucked or you two cuddling in the room.

Edward also went out of his way to make your time a little easier. A patient is giving you shit? Whoops! They seem to have been killed under mysterious circumstances.

Your boss is being an asshole? He'll be sure to get at least one punch in the next time he sees the old prick.

You were just the small, helpless, adorable psychiatrist to him! Even when you two are intimate it shows.

He loves that he's taller than you, it turns him on. When he's fucking you, he likes to hold your hand or press his chest against your back and cover your form.

He loves pet names that show belonging to him (my baby, my sweet boy, stuff like that)

If you also use pet names like that I think he would instantly dedicate his life to you

You're his and he's yours, which means he does get jealous but let him bend you over your desk and slowly thrust into you until your begging for more and he'll feel ok again!

Once your boss almost catches on, Ed quickly covers up with the clever plan to fake attack you during a session. He put on the act of being pissed all day and lunged at you when you opened the door. The guard saw and reported it, meaning you two got to keep dating after all!

Once he gets his official "sanity" certificate, he is let free and you two start living together.

Eventually, you're able to quit your job at Arkham and get a new one, Ed appreciates being able to see you more.

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

[chipchase]

A stay with Hannibal

Name: A stay with Hannibal

Characters: You, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham.

Reader: Minor, Male/GNC, hinted autistic. TW: Crying, descriptions of zoning out.

Other: Yea this is definitely just a self insert to cope with my feelings. Except I’m a child and this is basically how I felt during my childhood. Also this is my first time writing fanfiction. Have fun! Summary: You are the son of Will Graham. He needs to leave for a while to do some distant work on a case. He decided to ask Hannibal to take you in for the time he was gone. Hannibal reluctantly agreed since he found the way you act interesting. You don’t know much about Hannibal and don’t really like being with strangers. 

Word count: 2548

- - - - - - 

You stepped into your dad’s car, still doubting whether this would be a good idea. You never liked the idea of going to other people’s homes, let alone to stay there for an unknown period of time. You let out a sigh as you buckle your seatbelt. Your dad looked back to see your face resting in a nervous expression.

“Y/N. You’ll be fine I promise. Hannibal is a great man. I promise you’ll be comfortable there. If I knew how long I would be gone I would let you be home alone. I promise to call you often.” he said. 

You looked up to meet your dad’s eyes. A slight breath escaped your mouth. “I know I will be, dad. I just don’t like unknown places. Therefore, I’ve never met the man.” Your dad smiled and nodded at you. He knew you prefer routine. He felt slightly bad about doing this too, but he knew he had no choice. He started the car and so the drive had begun.

The drive seemed to be taking forever. After what felt like hours you finally stopped in front of Hannibal’s house. You took your suitcase out of the trunk of the car and followed your dad to the door. You were nervous, anxious and afraid. You had no idea what to expect. Will didn’t really talk about Hannibal to you. All you knew was that he was a psychiatrist and always wore a suit. “That’s just great. He can also read my mind” you sighed to yourself. You didn’t enjoy psychiatrists. You always felt like they could read your every move. 

Your father knocked on the door and stepped back. You heard footsteps approaching the door and you could hear the lock getting unlocked. As the door opened you met the man you’d be stuck with for a while.

“Welcome Will” Hannibal said. Hannibal looked down at you and you felt your heart stop. His eyes looked like they could read your every thought and a slight lash of fear shivered over your spine. 

“You must be Y/N” He said, looking at you. You could only nod. You still weren't convinced you’d end up comfortable here. Hannibal gestured for you and your dad to come in. Hesitating for a second you followed your dad inside. You felt your thoughts float again. It usually happened when you felt uncomfortable. Your mind would become silent and no thoughts would be found. You wouldn’t be able to hear anyone speaking to you. Every other moment you would have called it a blessing. However, you’d prefer to not do it in front of a psychiatrist. You wanted to act as normal as you possibly could.

You heard your dad and Hannibal talk for a bit. You didn’t know about what, and you weren’t interested in finding out. After a few minutes your dad walked towards you to say goodbye. You hugged him and he felt your heartbeat raising out of fear. He whispered to you that you’d be safe here, and due to the time you had no chance but to hope he was right. You watched him walk out of the door and get inside of the car. The second he left you wanted to sit down and cry. It was difficult not to. Your hands were shaking and you just wanted to go back home. 

Hannibal looked at your hands trembling and your breath slightly shaking. Your dad told him about you being rather nervous about this. He wanted to make sure you knew you’d be safe here, but he wasn’t sure if this was the right moment. He saw a tear roll down your face. Slowly, he walked towards you. He put a hand on your shoulder as a way of saying that it’ll be okay. 

You dried your eyes and looked up to Hannibal. He looked slightly concerned. A sudden wave of thoughts overwhelmed you. You were asking yourself if you scared him, if you upset him. It would be the last thing you’d want to happen. You felt your thoughts fly away again, you felt your consciousness slip away. You wanted to stop yourself from it, but with your current mindset you couldn’t. 

As if Hannibal was able to sense this he guided you towards the living room. He looked into your eyes for a second to find some form of reaction, but your mind had already gone away. You had a slight idea of what was going on but that was it. Hannibal sat you down on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Your mind wasn’t getting any clearer.

Hannibal came back to you with a cup of tea, slightly cooled down for you to drink. He noticed that you weren’t completely on earth. He slowly tried to get you back. “Most likely a stress response” he thought to himself. He looked at you and slowly squeezed your shoulder. You were able to feel the pressure. It felt reassuring. 

“It’s alright Y/N. I won’t be a bother. I promise you that I won’t bother unless I feel the need to.” His voice was calming. He kept reassuring you that everything in here would be okay. You felt your mind become clear again. You turned your head to see his face. He still looked slightly concerned, but you knew that your reaction probably caused this. Your mind became a lot clearer after you took a few breaths. 

“Thank you” you mumbled. He smiled and handed you the cup of tea.

“I feel like this would help a bit. It’s a herbal tea. Maybe it will calm you down a bit, yes?” he said. You gratefully took the cup and started to drink it. Hannibal’s concerned expression seemed to be going away. 

Hannibal felt some form of need to take care of you. He knew Will cared about you deeply, and he felt like he should protect you for him. He saw and protected you like you were his own child. 

You finished your cup of tea and took a few deep breaths again. You felt slightly ashamed of what happened. You must’ve scared Hannibal. You looked down at the floor. Hannibal stood up slowly.

“Why don’t I show you your bedroom for your stay?” he said. He hoped that having your own space would help you feel more comfortable here. You nodded. You wanted to say something but you just couldn’t. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because your brain refused to let you. Hannibal smiled “Good, would you follow me?” 

You stood up from the couch and felt your legs become slightly weak. You held onto the couch for a second. Instinctively Hannibal caught you. He waited for a second to make sure you could regain your strength. When he saw you regained it, he guided you towards your room. 

Your room was slightly dimmed. The walls were painted in a light gray. You felt slightly more comfortable here. You sighed and sat down on the bed. Hannibal looked at you for a bit.

“I will leave you to calm your thoughts a bit Y/N. If you need me I will be just downstairs. Promise me you’ll call for me if you need help, yes?”

You nodded again. 

“I will.” It’s the first time you spoke clearly to him. He seemed to be relieved when he heard you speak. 

Hannibal had already noticed a few things about your behavior he deemed “Unusual.” The constant avoidance of eye contact, the need for routine, the zoning out. He heard from your father about things that interested you so much that it would take over your life. He noticed you seemed to be unsure how to cope with these things. The constant zoning out when approached, the complete and constant loss of time and sense when you felt uncomfortable. He wanted to somehow help you manage these. 

You felt yourself dozing off in your bed. It was only 3PM but you felt like you hadn’t slept in ages. You tried to stay awake but your eyelids were heavy. You laid down feeling defeated. You closed your eyes and for the first time since you got here you felt safe and comfortable. 

Hannibal first wanted to cook something big and majestic as a welcome, but after he saw your state he decided to order something online instead. He felt like the simplicity would make you feel slightly more comfortable. He knocked on your bedroom door, but since you were asleep he didn’t get a response. He opened the door softly to find you asleep. You were holding onto a pillow. You rolled yourself up like you were hiding. The fact you could sleep meant a lot to Hannibal. He was already afraid he would find you awake at 3am while you were unable to sleep. He stayed there for a few seconds to make sure you weren’t having any bad dreams. After making sure you didn’t he closed the door and let you be for a while. 

You woke up after nearly 4 hours to find your suitcase unpacked, the wardrobe filled with clothes and your plushie of a squid, which you named squiddie, sitting next to you. The fact you had something recognizable in your room made you feel calm. You grabbed squiddie and carefully walked outside again. You went downstairs to find Hannibal sitting in a chair near the fireplace, reading a book. You carefully stepped around the corner, unsure of what to say. 

“Ah, welcome back Y/N.” Hannibal said. You still weren’t sure what to say, and Hannibal knew that. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Would you like to sit here with me?” he said, pointing at a chair opposite of him. You slowly walked towards the chair, still holding squiddy.

The quiet was nice. The heat of the fireplace was calming, the silence of nobody saying anything was comforting. After a while Hannibal closed his book and turned to you. 

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” he said. You suddenly looked up. You hated talking about your feelings. Not because you were scared to do so, but because you didn’t understand them yourself. 

“Your father already told me you don’t like talking in a form of therapy. Don’t worry. This is not a therapy session. I just want to make sure you feel comfortable here during your stay” Ýou looked at him. You wanted to say something. You just didn’t know what. There was a moment of silence. You took a deep breath. 

“I’m not really sure what happened” you said, looking down at the floor feeling defeated once again. 

“You don’t like unknown places, right?” Hannibal said. “Do they make you feel unsafe? Or more like you have no control over the situation. No escape plan for when you want to get out?”

You leaned forwards. He just described you entirely. Unknown places meant you couldn’t leave when you wanted to. You didn’t say a word, afraid that if you did, you would start crying. Hannibal noticed your sudden change of posture, your hands suddenly moving, your leg bouncing, your eyes looking around like you were looking for an escape route. 

“You seem like you’re forcing yourself to stay quiet, I promise you you don’t have to. I also promise you that talking would make you feel a lot better” Hannibal said, hoping to reassure you. 

You stared at the floor for a while. He knew more about you than you seemed to understand about yourself. Every feeling you had he put it into words. You felt a tear coming down your face. You yelled at your brain to stop crying. “Not right now. I don’t need to talk to him. I don't need to and maybe I don't want to. Do I want to? Is he right?” Hannibal stood up and walked a little closer to you. You felt vulnerable, scared. Like a mouse trapped by a cat. 

Hannibal recognized someone in you. He wasn’t sure who. He didn’t like how you coped with your feelings by ignoring them. He wanted you to speak about them. 

He relocated his chair to be next to yours. You could feel more tears forming in your eyes and all you wanted it to do was to stop. You were screaming in your head for it to stop but it didn’t. 

“I can see it’s difficult for you to accept your sadness, yes?” he asked. “Why is it difficult for you? Do you feel vulnerable, open or maybe even afraid when you cry?” his voice wasn’t angry, it was soft. You looked him in the eyes while yours were still filled with tears.

“I don’t even understand why I feel sad. I shouldn’t feel sad, I have no reason to. Do I even deserve to cry?” you replied. It was the first time you actually managed to talk about how you felt with someone. Hannibal looked slightly shocked because of your response. There was a moment of silence until you stood up. You wanted to walk out and forget that it ever happened. Hannibal stood up with you. 

“Please just leave it be. I don’t even understand my feelings myself.” you said, your voice shaky. 

Hannibal watched you take another step and out of instinct he just held you. He hugged you. Supporting your back and head with his hands. “You don’t need a reason to feel sad. Sometimes we just do. It’s fine to be sad sometimes, and you deserve to be sad just like anyone else.” he reassured. 

The feeling of being held, reassured was comforting. You felt your breath slow down. After a few minutes Hannibal looked at you again. 

“Does your father know how you feel?” he asked you. You shook your head. “He has enough on his mind to also get constricted with my issues.” Hannibal understood what you meant by that. Your father was constantly busy with his job and he seemed to have enough stress from just that.

“I promise you. My door is always open. You don’t even need to talk. If you just need a place to cry without being near your father just knock. 

Hannibal guided you to the couch. You sat down and he sat down next to you. He handed you something. 

“I think this little guy belongs to you” he said, handing squiddy to you again. You took the plushie back and just held it. Maybe your dad was right. Maybe I was safe here. Maybe I was the safest I had been in months. Not because I was physically safer, but because I finally felt the courage to open up.