#and adding that the psychiatrist wants to ''medicate that out of'' them

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 10

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Warning: Smut First time I've ever written smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks (I'm updating the warnings in the series masterlist so this is the only other warning for smut from here on out)

Also want to let everyone know that with holiday seasons coming up, work is getting busier and I'm gonna be working more days than my normal here soon so it's gonna be a bit harder to write. I promise to update as often as possible and I'm gonna start adding dates next to the upcoming chapters in the masterlist on when they should be posted so refer to that.

thank you everyone for reading, now enjoy

Chapter 10

“How was it?” Jisung asks after Y/n walks out of the office he was waiting for her in front of as she was talking with her therapist and psychiatrist and he can see the signs that she’s been crying which doesn’t surprise him. 

“Weird.” She sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue. “They asked me a lot of mental health questions mostly, and they want to put me on anti anxiety meds for sure and maybe antidepressants.”

“It’s not too bad.” He takes her hand to lead her back to the lobby where Chan is waiting for them. “I was put on the same when I first started coming here. Still take the anxiety ones actually.”

“Really?” She looks at him surprised. 

“Yeah.” He nods his head. “I was homeschooled as a kid so I didn’t socialize as much as I should have and it caused a lot of anxiety because of it. The only reason I know Chan and Changbin is because my dad worked for their dads originally. Really they were my only friends back then.”

“Good to know.” She nods, frowning. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I don’t actually know a lot about all of you guys, or how you all came to be.” She whispers, looking at the floor. 

“Well feel free to ask questions whenever, we‘ll be happy to answer.” He squeezes her hand as they walk out into the lobby and Chan looks up at them.

“You okay?” Chan stands as the two walk up to him and he pulls her into his side. 

“Yeah, it was just a lot.” She hands him the paper for her anti-anxiety prescription. 

The alpha looks over it and sighs but understands and reads the note about possible antidepressants but they want to have more sessions with her to determine that. 

“I’m gonna ask you like I had asked Ji when they wanted to prescribe him this too.” He moves her to look at him. “Do you want to be put on medication? Do you think it will actually help you?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never taken stuff like this before.” She stutters. “But I’m wary because of the injections.” She then looks over at Jisung. “Does it help you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles at her. “I feel like I’m able to get through the day easier with it. And don’t worry, it’s nothing like how the injection was.”

Y/n nods her head still thinking about it and Chan tilts her head to look up at him. “Hey, you can try them out for a bit and if you don’t like how they make you feel or don’t think they’re helping then we can slowly get you off of it.” He reassures her. “We did that with Jisung for his antidepressants.” 

“Okay.” She whispers. “I’ll try it.” 

Chan goes and gets the prescription sent in to be picked up at the pharmacy in Stayville and picks it up on their way home. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Baby girl.” Chan stops the omega as she walks past his room and motions for her to come in. “I’ve noticed you’ve been in your head since we got home, talk to me.” He shuts the door after she walks in.

She sighs as he leads her to sit on his bed. “I just realized today that I don’t actually know a lot about all of you.” 

“That’s all?” He watches her closely as she nods her head. “Baby, all you have to do is ask us questions and we’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

“Can you tell me about your family and where you came from?” She asks shyly. “I remember Minho telling me that Hannah visits from Australia a lot. And Dr. Hajoon was calling you Chris.” 

“Yeah.” He smiles and laughs a little as he sits next to her. “My English name is Christopher. I was born here but was mostly raised in Australia. My dad went back and forth from there and here to help Changbin’s dad run the company. His dad retired so he and I handle the Korean office while my dad still runs the one there.”

The omega nods as she listens. “Your brother is an omega. What about Hannah? And your parents?”

“Lucas is our only omega in my family pack too.” He smiled at her. “My dad is an alpha and so is Hannah. My mom is a beta.”

“Would we ever be able to go visit Australia?” She whispers.

“Of course.” He lifts her head to look at him. “As a pack we own a vacation house there so that Felix and I are able to visit our families often.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “How did I not realize that Felix is also Australian?”

“I don’t know, baby.” He laughs a bit. “Felix and I have known each other since we were kids. I taught him Korean and after I had moved and gotten settled here with Changbin, Jisung and Seungmin we moved him here.” 

“Ji said you guys were the only friends he had since his dad worked for yours.” She looks over his facial features. “How did everyone else come into the pack?”

“Well, Seungmin and I went to high school together here. I was his senior.” He smiles as she listens closely. “He was a bit unsure of himself when he realized we were fated. I had to go up to him first and tell him about Changbin and Jisung, who I was living with and tell him about Felix back home.”

“Minho had run into Jisung at a caffe not far from the office. At the time Minho was a backup dancer for BTS but after meeting Ji and wanting to court him since he was his fated mate, he decided to stay in Seoul and started teaching dance. And Ji convinced him to meet the other four of us as he knew we were his fated mates too.”

“Min was a backup dancer for BTS?” Y/n gawks. “I don’t believe it.”

“Look up some of their live performances, you’ll see.” And she makes a mental note to do so later. “Hyunjin and Jeongin met each other in school and knew they were each other's fated mates. Hyunjin had started taking classes from Min and even though they both realized they were fated mates, Jinnie was too scared of Minho to talk to him about it and Min wasn’t about courting his student.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how cute the whole situation is. “So how did it finally happen?”

“Felix.” Chan smirks. “Changbin had dropped him off at the studio one day to bring Minho lunch and Hyunjin fell in love at first sight. After that Lix made Jinnie and Min talk and Hyunjin told them about Jeongin and they told him about the rest of us.”

“That’s all really cute.” The omega gushes. “Best story ever.”

“I don’t know.” He grins at her mischievously. “I think my favorite story is the one about how we met our omega.” He grabs her pulling her onto his lap so she’s straddling him causing her to blush.

“Channie.” She pouts as he holds her hips and Y/n can’t help but to glance down at his lips, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

Y/n starts to wonder if they’re gonna claim her soon or not, thinking back to what her brother had told her, about them possibly just using her.

“You’re thinking too much, baby girl.” The alpha grips her hips a bit tighter causing her to whine a little. “Just say it.”

“Please.” She looks back and forth from his eyes to his lips.

“You’ve gotta say it.” She continues to pout though and he lightly spanks her ass. “Come on baby, I don’t know what you’re wanting if you don’t speak up.”

“Please claim me, alpha.” She sounds disparate.

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling her down to kiss her lips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

The kiss is heated and passionate, he smirks at the small wines she’s making. He spanks her again causing her to gasp and the alpha takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips. She doesn’t try to fight back with her tongue, already submitting to him.

He pulls away from the kiss and starts trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, relishing in the little sounds she makes. He groans into her neck when she bucks her hips against him, her nails digging into his shoulders. 

Chan buries his nose into her scent gland before switching their positions so she’s on the bed and he’s hovering above. One arm next to her head to keep himself up and the other lightly trailing up her bare thigh to the bottom of her skirt. 

“Are you sure about this, baby girl? Because once we start, I’m not stopping.” He looks into Y/n’s eyes, seeing how desperate and needy she already is as she nods her head. “Words baby, I need you to use your words.”

“Yes alpha, I’m sure.”

“Good girl.” He growls as he pushes her skirt up and cups her sex, feeling how damp her underwear is. “Fuck, my little omega, you’re already so wet.” 

Y/n covers her face with her hands in embarrassment as he continues to rub her through her panties letting out little whines and moans. 

“Don’t hide from me.” Chan grabs both of her wrists with one hand and moves them from her face and pins them above her head. “There she is, my beautiful girl.”

“Channie.” Y/n bucks her hips against his hand. “You’re teasing.”

“Am I?” He fake pouts at her before taking his hand away from her and she whines and squirms as he still holds her in place. “What’s wrong? I thought you didn’t want me to tease you? So I stopped.” 

“Chan, please.” And with a smirk at her begging he lets go of her wrists, moving his hands to her blouse and takes it off and raises a brow at her bare chest. “No bra? Tsk, naughty girl.”

“Took it off when we got home.” Y/n pants. “It was uncomfortable.” 

“Of course it was.” He coos, kissing her lips again and cups her boob, squeezing it a little before playing with her nipple. 

She arches her back, moaning into his mouth as she starts pulling at his shirt trying to get it off. Chan sits back pulling the shirt over his head and she ogles him, eyes roaming over every muscle of his torso. She then notices the bulge in his jeans, sitting up she unbuttons them as he smiles while watching her, helping take his pants off leaving him in his boxers. 

Chan grabs the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down along with her panties before pushing her to lay back down as he looks over her.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his fingers to play with her slit before pushing a finger in causing her to bite her lip. “You’re so tight, baby. If you can’t take my finger, how are you gonna take my cock?”

“I can take it.” The omega moans as he starts to finger her. “Please alpha, I can, I promise.”

“Let me prep you first.”

He pushes a second finger in and makes a come hither motion and she arches her back once again grabbing onto his arm as he speeds up his fingers. 

“Channie, please.” Y/n whimpers as he pulls his fingers out of her pussy, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste her slick.

“Mmm, you tastes so good. Gonna have to eat you out sometime.” He wastes no time sliding his boxers off before leaning over her, lining up with her. “This might hurt a little, but I promise it will get better, just let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“Okay.” Y/m whispers and gasps when he starts to push in. 

When Chan feels some resistance he gives a hard thrust, completely bottoming out inside her causing her to moan a little in pain and pleasure. He stays still, looking at her face to check she’s okay and wipes away a tear from her eye.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” The omega whimpers before grinding against him. “Please move.”

Chan pulls out a bit before thrusting back in causing her to gasp again as he moves. Her expression soon changed from that of a bit of pain into pleasure.

“You’re so tight, baby girl.” He grunts as her hands go to his shoulders, claws coming out and start digging into his skins as she becomes a moaning mess under him.

“Please alpha, more.” And he speeds up his rhythm, rutting into her as he looks down to where they are connected seeing just how well she’s taking him. 

When he sees some blood, which shockingly didn’t make her feel bad for hurting her but turned him on more knowing he’s taken her innocence and now belongs to the pack, to him. The sight of it causes him to harden his thrust and he grabs her hands from his shoulders placing them next to her head and holds them.

“Channie… ah.” Y/n squeezes his hands, head turning to the side as her eyes close, her walls clamping around him.

“Fuck.” He growls, loving the sound her slick makes around his cock. “You close baby?”

She nods in desperation and the knot at the base of his cock starts to swell. “Please, Chan, so close. Want your knot, please. Please claim me.”

Chan nuzzles into her neck for a moment smelling at her scent gland before biting down hard, teeth breaking the skin as he tastes her blood. She screams and cums around him, shaking in pleasure, her juices squirting everywhere making a mess of both of them and the bed. She thought the bite would hurt but instead she just feels a flood of his love and emotions for her.

He stays latched onto her neck riding out her pleasure before his knot inflates all the way and he releases his load into her. His knot keeps him locked in as his cum fills her up, some spilling out around his cock. It isn’t until she’s milked him dry that he lets go of her neck, licking his lips of her blood.

Y/n gazes up at him looking fucked out as he lets go of one of her hands to push some of her hair out of her face. “You did so good, baby girl.”

“Wanna bite you too.” The omega whimpers as she tries to move but his knot still hasn’t softened, keeping him in place.

Chan leans down, giving her access to his neck, the side with only three mate marks and she bites down just under the bottom one. He groans in pleasure and lets her stay there as long as she wants. 

Once she lets go she looks up at him, eyes full of love. “My alpha.”

“That’s right baby.” He coos and kisses her lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

______________________________________________________________

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[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 13

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Reader and Ruhn have a heart to heart and your friendship finally begins to move forward. Those from Midgard also learn some interesting information from their most recent trip.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Some mild spoilers for Cresent City 3. If you haven't read this series, or this book I highly recommend that you do as parts of this story will make much more sense in the next chapter.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. December was an extremely rough month for me. I'm going to be talking with my psychiatrist about a possible medication change to see if that will give me some more energy and focus without adding to my anxiety.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 Pt2 Next: Chapter 14

Ruhn didn’t even register that he had fallen asleep until he turned over and a bright light attempted to penetrate the darkness of his closed eyes. Groaning, he turned back over, his arm draping over the plush body next to him. A soft gasp caused Ruhn to open his eyes to find (e/c) orbs staring directly at him. 

“Uh…” Ruhn cleared the gravel from his throat as he gave the woman a sheepish smile, “Hi?” (Y/N) glared at him for a brief moment. Ruhn held his breath waiting for her to berate and kick him out. However, her expression softened before she pressed her forehead against his chest. 

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.  

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from. 

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows. 

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.” 

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right. 

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes. 

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”  

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.” 

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral. 

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.   

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him. 

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him. 

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up. 

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to. 

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.   

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side. 

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her. 

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared. 

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her. 

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her. 

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.” 

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold. 

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.”  She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind. 

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.” 

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.  

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend. 

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia. 

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person- 

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door. 

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your  lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.  

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa. 

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world. 

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available. 

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured. 

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds. 

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again. 

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?” 

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin.  You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included. 

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.” 

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp. 

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-” 

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap. 

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box.  “Glow in the dark.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow. 

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed. 

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking. 

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice. 

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction. 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him. 

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.”  His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. 

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers. 

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them. 

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years. 

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?” 

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted. 

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status. 

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.  

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything. 

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.  

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.” 

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.” 

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.  

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.  

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King. 

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs. 

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s. 

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.” 

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat. 

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction. 

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?” 

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.” 

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you- 

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face. 

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.  

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.” 

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes. 

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.  

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation. 

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

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@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

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@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

The crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

[feasibilities]

Professional Perversions- Dr. Jonathan Crane x Psychiatrist!Reader ♟️

Warnings: Blackmail, Non-Con, Workplace Harassment, Degradation, Stalking, Dacryphilia, Oral Sex (F), Slapping, Overstimulation, etc. Author's Note: Jonathan is a villain so I wrote him as such. Read at your own risk!

Working at Arkham Asylum for the last 5 years meant that you worked with the criminally insane daily. You were a listening ear to the sadistic fantasies or childhood trauma of your patients. You also prescribed medication that they never bothered to take. More often than not, your patients were repeat offenders who were discharged far too early. You couldn’t understand why this kept happening and recommended institutionalizing them for longer periods. Your complaints fell on deaf, unsympathetic ears. Such is the nature of working for the state. You were at the mercy of bureaucracy. 

Your supervisor, Dr. Jonathan Crane, seemed to enjoy compounding the stress of your job. He was Chief Administrator of the asylum, so there was no way to bypass his antagonistic behavior. He would often assign you with assessing difficult, violent patients. Your medical notes on these assessments came back with harsh criticisms in red ink. He would never answer calls or emails from you, so you’d have to chase him down while he was doing his daily walkthrough. During weekly meetings, he would chastise you in front of your colleagues. It was the little things as well. He’d let the elevator doors close on you or reject your attempts to make small talk. Your days ended later than everyone else’s—and with you sobbing in your car. 

— 

Please come to my office as soon as possible. We have some important matters to discuss. 

Dr. Jonathan Crane 

Chief Administrator of Arkham Asylum 

555-9240

Dread pooled in your stomach as you read the email. What could you have done? Naturally, you assumed the worst—you were about to be fired. Being terminated from a government job would mean you couldn’t get hired anywhere else in Gotham. Jonathan obviously wouldn’t put in a good word for a prospective position. Wanting to get this over with quickly, you made your way to his office. Knocking politely, he answered you from behind the door with the gold-plated sign that read ‘Chief Administrator’.

“Come in.” He said plainly. 

You came in and looked around briefly. His office was luxurious compared to yours. His Ph.D degree hung on the wall above a mahogany shelf of awards and plaques. The chairs were plush and made of leather. The whiteboard was filled with equations that made no sense to you, adding to your feelings of inadequacy. 

“If you’re done gawking at my accomplishments, please take a seat.” Jonathan criticized. You quickly sat down and sighed in annoyance.  

“As you know, I have had some concerns about your competency regarding this job. Your patients haven’t shown any progress. They also continue to report suicidal or homicidal tendencies.” Jonathan admonished you, waiting for a response. 

“My competency is not the issue, but rather the competency of my superiors. Patients can’t progress if you discharge them prematurely. These people need help reintegrating into society. You cannot just throw them out onto the street.” You retorted, growing frustrated already. 

Jonathan’s eyes focused on you intently. You saw a faint smirk flash across his face before retreating back into the same sterile expression. 

“I follow the orders of my superiors. You can submit a complaint if you are dissatisfied with our procedures.” Jonathan countered. 

“As do I. I’ve submitted several complaints and nothing has come of them. You find the time to punish me for the smallest mistakes, but you couldn’t find the time to consider my input? Your competence, or lack thereof, is the reason why this hospital has the highest recidivism rate in the city.” You argued. 

Jonathan swallowed harshly and clenched his jaw. His stark blue eyes were filled with hatred. For you, this was payback for all the times he lambasted you. It was humorous that someone who was so critical of others couldn’t handle it when the shoe was on the other foot. You also had no problem filing a lawsuit for wrongful termination as you had a paper trail on him. You feared him no longer. 

Removing his wireframe glasses, he walked to the front of the desk and stood over you. Uncomfortably close, he stared down at you.

“Fear is such a fascinating feeling, isn’t it? You know that better than anyone.” He teased.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat, growing tired of his odd behavior. 

“Every mental health professional that works here is required to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. You were asked what your biggest fear was—are you afraid of being stalked?” Jonathan explained, leaning in even closer. 

Sick to your stomach, you turned away from him and tears brimmed your eyes. He grabbed your chin and forced your gaze towards him. 

“Isn’t it so sick that someone knows your morning and nightly routine? Your favorite perfume? The kind of panties you’re wearing right now?” Jonathan remarked, getting off on your distress. 

You could’ve died of humiliation as you stared up at him. You finally understood why he treated you so poorly—it was a front to hide his obsession with you. During those contentious moments, he wasn’t thinking of how “incompetent” you were. Obscene images of you bent over his desk or you touching yourself in the shower were there. To his benefit, he caught you in the shower one night when you left the shades open. You realized why you found a soiled handkerchief in the bushes the next morning. 

“Why me? What could I possibly do for you?” You croaked, trying not to provoke him. 

“Everything I could ever want.” Jonathan divulged, brushing his thumb against your lips and smudging your lipstick. 

You started thinking of your escape plan. Maybe kick him in the balls and run? Stab him with one of his expensive pens? Before you could take action, he bent down and kissed you deeply. You tried to pull him away, but to no avail. His plump lips caused that familiar twinge in your lower stomach. He ran his large hands up your stocking-covered legs before stopping at your garter belts. He kneaded the exposed flesh there, earning an unintended whimper from you. This emboldened him as he moved his lips to your neck. 

“T-this isn’t right.” You sputtered as you tried to ignore the moisture between your legs. 

“You want this. You always have.” He whispered, moving his hand up further. Your body’s response to his actions made you question your sanity. Jonathan suddenly pulled you up from the chair and laid you on his desk. He undid your garter belts with an almost surgical precision. Hiking up your dress, he stared at the black lacy panties that adorned your cunt. He pulled the material aside and studied the glistening of your arousal. You had the perfect opportunity to claw his eyes out and bolt out of the office. However, you sat there wanting him to finish what he started. 

Jonathan ran his nose down your thigh as he took in your scent. Sliding the lacy material aside once more, he began flicking his tongue against your sensitive floret. Not being able to look away, you took in the visual of your despicable supervisor going down on you. His gaze was no longer sterile—it took on a marked concupiscence. Suddenly, you felt him press his face into you. He sucked harshly, causing you to moan loudly. He buried his nose in the trimmed tuft of your pubic hair. 

“Stop it.” You pled, knowing you wanted the opposite. 

Disregarding your objections, he slipped two fingers inside of you and curled them upwards. Pumping his fingers steadily, another low groan came from him as he reveled in the sapidity of your juices. You yanked at his hair to stop him before you came. You were much too late. You let out an untamed moan as Jonathan watched you fall apart. Your vision went white as your orgasm sent shockwaves through your body. He lazily lapped at your clit as you came down from your high. Removing his fingers, he put them in your mouth. You mindlessly suckled on them. 

“The human mind is so malleable, isn’t it?” Jonathan said. Your humiliation ran deep at his words. You were like putty in his hands and you resented it. He began removing your dress while you looked away from him. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you knew what was to come. Jonathan groped your breasts through your bra and placed your hand on his clothed crotch. His erection was beginning to hurt as he had it since you walked in his office. You felt him throb in your palm. 

“You look so beautiful when you cry. All those times you spent sobbing in your car really did something to me…” Jonathan divulged, undoing your bra and taking in the sight. 

“You don’t have to do this. Just fire me, please.” You agonized. 

“Shhh.” Jonathan hushed you. 

“Don’t hush me. I’m not a child.” You complained. 

Jonathan took a ball gag from his pocket and put it on you. Laying you back on the desk, Jonathan yanked your hips towards him until you were flush against his. Unbuckling his pants, he pulled himself out and sighed in relief. Pre-ejaculate oozed from the tip and he was red hot to the touch. You were astonished at his size. You blinked away tears thinking of the pain you were about to experience. You tried to scoot away before he snatched you back. Growing tired of your insolence, he slapped you roughly. 

“Behave.” Jonathan warned. A searing burn was left on your cheek. Sliding into you, he started thrusting with bestial force. Your breasts moved with each thrust as Jonathan lost himself in your pink depths. Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, you decided to play his game. You started rubbing your clit fervently and trying to moan his name through the gag. Noticing your reaction, Jonathan pinched your nipple harshly and deepened his thrusts. You mewled at the sensation. 

“This is all you wanted, didn’t you? A good screwing?” Jonathan hissed, watching white slick cover his shaft. You nodded and breathed heavily as you came once more. Skin hitting skin, the squelch of your arousal, and your desperate whimpers were like music to his ears. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny how gorgeous a fucked-out Jonathan looked. His face was twisted in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed occasionally. His taut lips pursed intermittently to hold back moans. 

His thrusts started to stagger as he approached his climax. Pulling out, ropes of seed shot onto your torso. An audible groan of pleasure finally left his throat. He made sure to smear droplets of it against your entrance. You recoiled at the thought of getting pregnant by him. He would have you forever. 

“Let’s savor this moment, shall we?” Jonathan smiled, pulling out his phone. Tears welled up in your eyes as he snapped pictures of your body. Holding your throat tenderly, he took one last photo of your face. Those pictures would be kept for his personal collection—and for blackmail if you ever decided to quit. You painstakingly got dressed and bit your lip to hold back sobs. A silent exchange of glances happened between you and Jonathan before you walked out of his office. 

[calware]

post about me. i added pictures to keep it interesting

i've had a problem for most of my life that i'm currently visualizing as a gray dorito poking into me. it's frustrating, inconvenient, difficult to deal with, and overall makes everything suck a little. many people have told me that this problem is most likely adhd, such as my therapist in high school who said it was "textbook." unfortunately, she was just a therapist, not a psychiatrist, and therefore wasn't actually qualified to diagnose me with anything. this was in 2021 when there were no child psychiatrists in my area accepting new patients (thanks, covid), so instead my doctor gave me a few adhd meds at differing doses to see if any of them stuck (i had literally no reaction to Any of them) and the whole thing went nowhere

so, is the problem actually adhd? i'm an adult now and could pay several hundred dollars (of my parent's money) to get a proper test, but it would make no difference as my issues would not be solved by adhd medication (maybe. i'm worried i somehow messed it up) or any form of accommodations. i don't want to ask my parents to pay for something that likely won't have much impact (and my mom wouldn't be fully convinced anyway. both parents are pretty sure there's nothing wrong with me). i want to know, but the time and money don't justify it. so the best solution i have is to keep going, keep learning which lifestyle changes to make and how to "work smarter". i'll be okay. and i say that with sincerity

whoops, forgot my glasses here. this is another gray dorito-shaped problem, only this one is much smaller. i rarely notice it, and when i do, it's superficial. it's only gotten genuinely bad twice in my life. it's my paranoia, obsessiveness, and, on occasion, compulsions that follow those obsessions. now, i know what you're thinking, which is that it kind of sounds like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. frankly, from my understanding, my issue is so negligible that it doesn't qualify as OCD. like i said, it barely affects me. it still bothers me that it's there, though. i do my best to deal with it, letting my thoughts pass as they come to me and not trying not to give into/breaking out of compulsions, but i just don't want it there at all

this is another thing i could see a therapist about, but does a problem this small really justify the time and expenses of seeing a professional? not in my case (not for me, at least. don't apply this to your own problems if you genuinely want to seek professional help)

i have a goal to have enough disposable income later in life to justify paying a scientist to pick through my brain for my own amusement. because, despite no substantial foreseeable improvements to my mental health after getting a psych evaluation, i still find the idea to be really exciting. i have a strong desire to understand how my mind works, how my brain ticks, why i am the person i am. that's how i know that if i ever played sburb, id have the heart aspect (that's right. you thought that this was just a personal post on my homestuck blog that had nothing to do with homestuck. do you really think i would do that? make off-topic posts solely about me on a homestuck blog? look, i even remembered to draw my glasses this time and i made them homestuck glasses. because i care about you guys) and i am vain and self-centered enough to desperately want someone with a phd to talk about me for an hour. and no, i don't need a therapist to tell me why that is, i already figured that one out allllll on my own

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Reactions to CM 18.5

my birthday episode!

yayyyy teen girl dead, GREAT way to start the episode

"another one, thank yew"

Why is Ochoa JJ's therapist all of a sudden???

Also was that a dream or real

Okay so it was real but yeah her going to Ochoa instead of an actual therapist is weird

This hairstyle looks so good on JJ

If CM loves one thing other than traumatizing its characters, it's a game metaphor

"You could go to mandated therapy" YES EXACTLY

Penelope being skittish with JJ????? weird.

JENNIFER???? Tara wtf??? Since when is she JENNIFER?

This gives 16.1 flashbacks

Luke following Penelope out of the room even when they weren't standing close to each other. Crumbs!

Love the little throwback to Tyler infiltrating the network

The way I was STARINGGGG at Luke and Penelope's hands in that scene. His hand kinda twitched towards hers when the camera cut away. he wants to hold her hand!

*sigh* I just know the jemily fans are going crazy thinking that JJ won't tell Ochoa how she and Emily worked it out is bc they fucked or smth

Luke and Tara teasing Emily. I fucking love them. I love banter.

this is horrifying omg

it's a JESUIT SCHOOL???

"The behavioral analysis unit is the most emotionally constipated group of experts I have ever worked with" I'M. HOWLING.

ooh Voit is coming back to himself

"Long story" why is this deeply disturbing episode making me GIGGLE

omg voit asking to be killed???

oh my god are they gonna put tyler in a room with this man?? that won't end well

She's not a psychiatrist??? is she??? i thought she was a surgeon/doctor in the physical medical sense

oh that transition of JJ standing up to back at the police station giving the profile ATEEEEEE

oh fuck she's fidgeting with her wedding ring

JJ you should NOT be back at work

Catholic. Dead dad. We are adding to the similarities she has with Luke and I don't like that. Even if they haven't interacted in a bit I'm still worried.

Oh my god wait she was Henry's age if not a bit younger. she GETS this. she gets what JJ and her family are going through.

not a Beatles joke 🤣

AJ really is really acting her GODDAMN ASS OFF this season and I love it

Mendoza mention!!

P A R D O N ?????? He kept pushing for a threesome is CRAZY.

First ever on-screen mention of Emily potentially being with a woman and it's THIS???

OH THAT'S SO ICKY. THAT'S. SO. ICKY. Jemily fans I fear you did not win today. We've got the fetishization of your ship on screen rn.

Emily's dad is still alive? And around? I can't be the only one who didn't know that.

"I didn't have the real thing. I never have." BC YOU'RE LESBIAN STOP TRYING TO DATE MEN

Penelope flirting with both Tyler and Luke at once??? Is Tyneloluke real???

AHHH AND THE CAMERA TRANSITION AGAIN I'M GOING FERAL THIS ATE SO HARD

"get off the cross, we need the wood" actually goes SO HARD wtf

VOIT WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME???????

Penelope and her boys!!

Also Penelope is wearing strawberries. My favorite thing. My brand. On my birthday. She did that for me.

OH NOT AN ALISON MENTION

I love Voit being disgusted by the name Sicarius

VOIT HUGGING JJ WAS SO NOT ON MY BINGO CARD

okay that was SUCH a good episode

[vigilante24ish]

🐺Primal 🐺

Summary:

In this life, some live with two. Humans in looks, wolves in spirit, amongst them they are known as Wolfskin. In this world, they stay hidden as they expand, multiply and hunt...Baltimore is no exception.

Rana is one and also an FBI agent. When a serial killer leaves them facing a dead end, Jack brings forward Will Graham to help them; without knowing, Will is unique.

She will do anything to keep him safe. A task that will prove hard when a strong, lonely Alpha, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, enters their lives.

Pairing: Mads Mikkelsen Hannibal X Fem! OC Chapter Warnings: None

Previous - Chapter 2: A New Clue Next - Chapter 4: Proper Meeting & A New Body

Chapter 3: Cannibal Serial Killers & Mysterious Psychiatrists

The next day, Rana met Will at the HQ to accompany him to the morgue. Jack was currently at the Academy, talking with the young psychiatrist known as Dr. Bloom.

She was intelligent, young, and had worked with Will for a while. Jack wanted to put Will more out in the field; however, he knew the risks.

He went to the Academy to ask her opinion and her help, in case Will needed it. After his talk with him, it was clear to both that the man had a twisted sense of love for those girls and that he would soon go after the next one.

Will was the only one, who could truly help them and Jack could not dismiss him...not yet.

While he was busy there, Will had been dressed in a medical apron and a plastic visor as he hovered over the body of the girl. Around him, were Jimmy, Beverly and Brian, who were busy inspecting and working on the body; hoping to find more clues.

At one side, leaning against the wall, was Rana. She was there to gather any information the four of them found and then give it to Jack.

At the same time, she wanted to keep an eye on Will, especially with Beverly and her snoopy nose being around.

She never minded the gore, blood or the dead. It would be silly if someone like her had trouble handling it. The opposite, she was always intrigued, and the feeling of blood on her hands did trigger some more primal instincts.

For that reason, she found it wiser to keep her distance, but if she ever had to, she could control her impulses and do her job.

"Tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck." Jimmy started, glancing at Rana, who was watching them like a Hawk.

"What about her nails?" she asked, muscled hands folded in front of her as she leaned on the wall, with one leg bent.

"Her fingernails were smudged when we took scrapings. The scrapings were where she cut her palms with them. She never scratched him." Brian added.

"Hmm," Rana exclaimed. "That means he knew how to prevent her from scratching him. He is no certain fool," she mumbled, but the silence in the room made everyone hear her.

"Curly piece of metal is all we got," Beverly added, before sneaking a flirtatious smile towards Will.

Something that did not go unnoticed by Rana. Thankfully, the scientist did not do anything, and Will was not focusing on her at all. Instead, his mind seemed to be not present.

"We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool workers." He said, glancing at Rana, who wrote it down in her little notebook as he adjusted the visor and forced himself to look in the body bag.

While he was busy thinking, imagining and trying to recreate what had happened to the girl, the other three worked normally.

Rana had noticed him but had not said anything as she studied him. She found it fascinating how his compressed other nature formed in a way that allowed him to think like the predator he is supposed to be.

She hadn't met many of their kind, but she knew each one was unique. Each one grew and developed certain skills that reflected their personality, their character, and their environment.

Will learnt how to empathise with predators, following serial killers and their way of thinking, clearly because he suppressed his true nature.

Rana, on the other hand, always motivated by anger and adrenaline, had developed physically and had acquired skills more used in combat and, as some would suggest, hunting.

Her senses were keen, but she did not have the perception Will had, just like he didn't have her reflexes and strong fight instincts that she possessed.

While she was the only one before she met him, that wasn't always the case. She was raised in an environment with their kind and had learnt valuable information from a young age that she hoped one day to pass on to Will.

However, approaching and explaining was the trickiest part. She did not know how much he knew or if he had unlocked them yet.

"Other injuries were probably but not conclusively post-mortem. She wasn't gored."

"She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there."

The trio kept working and talking while Rana was half paying attention.

However, she focused fully when Will snapped back into reality and added his conclusions: "She was mounted on them, like hooks. She may have been bled."

This made Beverly and Jimmy glance at Will as well, while Brian was distracted by his investigation of the abdominal wound. "Her liver was removed. He took it out and put it back in. See."

This made the female agent lift an eyebrow and approach the table, leaning over to see what he was pointing at. She was not that expert in the body anatomy, but she could faintly see the signs that the organ had been sewed back.

"Why cut out her liver if he was just going to sew it back in again?" Brian asked, confused.

All muscle tone in Will's face went slack as Rana sniffed faintly, bringing her face a little closer to the body. There was something...something that smelt different... it didn't smell like the organs of a corpse would...no...it was something more.

"Something was wrong with the meat." Rana and Will said at the same time, in perfect sync.

This made the trio look at them, confused, but also freaked out that the duo knew it, although each of them had found it out differently.

They exchanged a look, something familiar passing in front of their eyes as their minds suddenly connected. "She has liver cancer."

That's why it smelled differently, Rana thought, but then noticed how Will had paled.

Before she could ask him what was happening, he spoke up, and what he said next made everyone feel a chill going down their spine. "He's eating them"

Rana had called Jack just as Will's latest conclusion came. Jack had a lead for someone who could help with the case and was on his way.

However, he needed to know all the details, so she ended up in his car as he drove them to their next destination.

She was hesitant to leave Will behind but he had reassured her that he would focus on his lectures, now that he got another clue. It would allow him to take a break and allow his mind to focus on something else.

After Rana finished explaining what they found, Jack tensed his jaw and his hands around the car wheel.

"So, this lunatic is now eating them? Is this his sick love that Will talked about?" he asked, unhappy with the news.

Rana shrugged, leaning back on the seat and looking straight ahead of her. "I don't know. They are still working on more clues, but without the other bodies, it's hard to know." There was another silence between them as Jack took a turn and went off the busy highway. "Where exactly are we heading to?"

"Dr Hannibal Lecter. Dr Bloom recommended him. He might be able to help us and Will, in this nutjob case" Jack explained.

The female agent remained quiet, not adding anything more. Somehow, having a psychiatrist look at and inspect Will made her guts twist.

Yet again, Will was sensitive; perhaps someone more experienced could help if something went wrong. She was indecisive but decided not to make any decisions before meeting the man in person.

At last, they arrived at the fancy building where the famous psychologist lived, and Rana could not help but admire the architecture.

Climbing out of the car, she sniffed the air as a certain scent reached her olfactory processing cortex. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, she felt nothing had taken place.

Jack was clueless about her small reaction, already busy pushing the door open and entering the building. Rana followed behind him, her eyes seeming to be more concentrated than ever.

Unknown to Jack, his protégé started to suspect that this psychiatrist was not at all what everyone else thought.

When they arrived on the right floor, they found his door closed. It was clear that he was having an appointment, so they both waited in suspense and slight uneasiness.

The clock was ticking, and they both wanted nothing more than to catch this madman.

Rana was also uneasy because the scent of another Wolf had reached her senses while also setting one question apart.

Was the client or the good doctor, one of her kind?

Her answer soon came as the door was opened from the inside and a slightly plus size nervous man was about to be escorted out. He was very nervous, the scent of sweat and high adrenaline reaching her nose.

However, Rana knew there and then that the man was not like her. That made her attention focus on the doctor standing by his side. Her pupils dilated ever so slightly at the sight of a man with exotic features and dressed in a wrinkle-less three-piece matching suit.

Jack took the chance to step forward, blocking the way of the other two men. "Doctor Lecter?"

The man noticed him first, but Rana saw evidence that his nostrils moved slightly as he had picked up her scent just as she had picked up his.

However, he did not give anything away. Instead, he focused on Jack. "I hate to be discourteous, but this is a private exit for my patients."

He got his badge out. "I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford and this is Special Agent Rana Stones," he said, motioning for the blond, who had her badge as per usual hanging around her neck. "We are with the F.B.I. May we come in?"

Dr Lecter took a good look at the female agent, but his face had the perfect mask, exposing nothing of his inner thoughts or any of his reactions

"You may wait in the waiting room." He then focused on his patient. "I'll see you next week, Franklyn." Yet, before fully dismissing him, he turned to Jack again. "Unless, of course, this is about him."

Jack corrected him. "Oh, no, this is all about you."

And this is how Rana was once again sitting on the couch next to Jack.

Hannibal had gone inside his office momentarily and said he would call them. This gave her a moment to put on her mask and focus on her training.

Jack, next to her, was as clueless as ever about the secret world existing under his nose.

He picked up a Magazine, out of mere curiosity and to control his temper. He did not like waiting or being dismissed that way.

Usually, when people see their badges, they immediately speak to them, but it was clear that this certain Doctor wanted to make sure that he had the upper hand and was the dominant one in this situation from the very start.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Dr Lecter stepped into the doorway. "Please. Come in."

Jack and Rana stood up, heading for his office.

The female stayed a step behind Jack, and yet, as she passed in front of the good doctor, she felt his sharp gaze on her. She did not turn her head to acknowledge him but simply kept walking with her head held high.

Yet, she did not fail to pick up his unique scent. A mixture of exotic spices and well-aged wine contained in an oak barrel. Each person and wolfskin had their unique scent, which was recognisable and characteristic of them.

Hannibal watched them pass and as Rana passed by him, his senses got overloaded by her strong dominant scent. He blinked and forced a flat smile to cover his reactions, as he processed the scent of whiskey and burning wood with a faint touch of gunpowder.

Once inside the office, the two agents split. Rana took a seat on the couch, right across from Hannibal, while Jack decided to roam around and survey his collection of books and artefacts, while also admiring his art.

"May I ask how this is all about me?" he asked, his eyes going from Rana to Jack.

"You can ask. But I do need to ask you a few questions first. Are you expecting another patient?" Jack started.

"We're all alone," Hannibal informed, being so willing to cooperate and answer the questions.

"No secretary?"

"Was pre-dispositioned to romantic whims. Followed her heart to the United Kingdom. Sad to see her go."

Rana lifted an eyebrow, her back straight and her hands flat on her thighs. Somehow, the story, while sounding believable, also could not be true.

Usually, she would pick up the heartbeat of a normal human and detect when they are lying, but it was different with Hannibal.

For starters, his heart rate was stable but that was something their kind could easily control. A steady heartbeat was crucial cause increased adrenaline and blood was what caused their primary instincts to kick in and make their mind less human and more animalistic.

For that, she focused on anything else about him. It was their common technique with Jack. He asked the questions and tried to see if their suspect would bite while Rana would notice their reactions.

Being a woman, it was not easy for men to take her seriously or consider her a threat.

At first, she was quite reactive and violent to scare them and force them to speak.

However, after she started working with Jack, her teacher realised that she had other gifts she could develop to improve their partnership.

He was not wrong and his ideas worked.

Speaking of Jack, he had focused and was busy studying framed meticulous pencil drawings of Parisian landscapes. "Are these yours, Doctor?"

Hannibal gave a nod, his hand carefully pointing at the drawing of a school. " Among the firsts. My boarding school in Paris when I was a boy."

"Incredible amount of detail."

Not liking how things were, Hannibal stood up and moved to his desk. He picked up a point with a scalpel, blowing the shavings off the tip to reveal its sharpness. "Learned very early a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener."

He let the pencil down but not the scalpel. He eyed Jack carefully, focusing on the FBI agent's jugular.

However, he made no move as the strong scent of Rana kept reminding him that she was silently watching him. If only he could be alone with Jack, but that could not be the case.

"I understand your drawing got you an internship at Johns Hopkins."

Rana's muscles tensed faintly, and she moved her position on the couch faintly, just as she noticed Hannibal's faint nostril flair and eye dilation.

Yet, his heartbeat remained steady, and he simply exhaled. Others would not notice such small changes, but they were not her.

"I am beginning to suspect you are investigating me, Agent Crawford."

There is suddenly an eerie stillness as if lightning were about to strike. Rana decided to speak, change her position, and sit on the couch's armrest.

"Is there a reason why we should investigate you, Dr Lecter?" she asked, earning a hidden smirk from Jack.

Hannibal's full attention turned to her now, his pupils dilating even more. Her presence alone tested the control of his instincts; it had been years since he had been in the presence of another like him.

And the last one he was with did not have the same aura and vibe Rana did.

He was no fool; he could see the signs, as both of them showed clear, pure dominance with their body language, stable tone of voice, and intense stare.

The tension in the room started to thicken, those two never breaking eye contact.

For a microsecond, both had their irises flash to a bright red, as if triggered by the intense staring and the silent fight for control of the room.

Jack sensed that something was odd, so he moved and sat next to Rana. His attention change caused Hannibal's and Rana's eyes to return to normal.

"You were referred to me by Alana Bloom in the psychology department at Georgetown."

This caught Hannibal's attention, as his demeanour changed again, and he took his seat once again. "Most psychology departments are filled with ham radio enthusiasts and other personality-deficient people. Dr Bloom would be the exception. "

"You mentored her during her residency at John Hopkins, correct?" the female agent asked him.

"I learned as much from her as she learned from me," Lecter said coolly.

"Showed me your paper in The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry. Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion." Jack continued.

"And?"

"Very interesting, even to a layman." He continued.

Rana was told about the paper, and Jack sort of summarised it in his way for her.

She could read it if she wanted, but she was not truly interested. Specialisation and science were never her cups of tea.

Instead, she focused more on other subjects like Physical Education. Philosophy, Law and History were the only exceptions, but no other subjects. Perhaps this was also a result of her internal need for justice and her strong instincts, which required more energy and physical results.

"A layman? So many learned fellows going about in the halls of Behavioural Science at the F.B.I. and you consider yourself a layman? What about your partner? Do you consider her a laywoman?" Hannibal said, deciding to try his unique psychoanalyzing skills.

He was curious about this partnership and how much Jack truly knew about Rana and her kind.

It was the first time she had seen a Wolfskin in a position of power, one that required working with and around humans daily for hours on end. It was truly fascinating to him as well, and he was curious to find out more about the unique blond agent sitting across from him.

Jack realised what was going on, slightly, and exchanged a look with Rana before speaking up. "I do when I'm in your company, Doctor. I am, also, not one to speak for my partner. She can answer that if she wishes to" This made the female's lips curve slightly upwards. "I am here for another reason. I'd like you to help me with a psychological profile."

[gl1tchr]

do you see reeves adding scarecrow and do you think he and riddler would be besties💖

The Scarecrow Question. People REALLY want a Scarecrow in this universe and I actually don't think this is just us Scriddler Freaks advocating for this. I think people saw the potential of Murphy's Scarecrow and really want to see what can be done better, but I'm not sure they're gonna go for it. I don't think it's necessarily just because Scarecrow has already had a film debut. Every Rogue in Batman 2022 has had a prior major film debut, so I don't think recycling is necessarily off the table, but I think they've been sidestepping mentions of the Scarecrow for a reason, I just don't think they want him. I think it's kind of - too easy?

Like, don't get me wrong, it is perfect. Reevesverse Arkham Asylum is Dr. Crane's wet dream, drugged out patients, people who aren't even *supposed* to be there, people with minds untouched by any prior maladies for him to break from new? My lord he'd be in hog heaven, but I just think it's too perfect for what Matt's been doing so far. He's enjoying the challenge of taking Rogues people seem to not take all that seriously and giving them more bite. I know that's kind of contradictory with Joker, but given what we've seen, I think his intent is to do something *different* with the character. That's sort of his track record so far, so I think it's fair to assume it's the case with Joker that he's going to at least attempt a new spin on it. I would *adore* a Scarecrow in this universe, but I fear (lol) it might be too predictable.

SECOND HALF OF THE QUESTION no I do not think they would be besties HGFSDKG. I think Riddler would have a DEEP mistrust of psychiatrists and other medical professionals, especially a CORRUPT ONE that's literally hurting people like him who are deeply troubled. Edward can be manipulated, mind you, but he has a VERY strong internal code as well. He hates corruption and those who represent it, and someone who's meant to be a helper of others, someone tasked with healing the minds of people like him who are hurting using that authority to further break people would sicken him. UNLESS THEY DID SOMETHING ELSE WITH SCARECROW maybe he doesn't have to work at Arkham, maybe we get back to him being a scorned professor, in which case, he and Edward might align a bit more in that respect. However, I still think a Riddler so driven by anxiety would Not like to be around Mr. Makes You Anxious For Fun Just To See What Happens, so even if they *teamed up*, I think it'd be for purely spite reasons for Batman rather than a genuine interest in the other's motives.

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Chapter Eight Fromage

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Medical Gore/injury, Death, Kissing

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty

Twisted Minds Masterlist

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

WILL GRAHAM lies with dogs, enjoying three fingers of juice. The SPACE HEATER in the fireplace emits a warm halo around the pack as Will works over the innards of the boat motor. Will stops working, listening. He eyes the dogs, they don't react, going about their leisure. Will returns to work. A distant, almost imperceptible CRY. Will stops again. He glances at the dogs, they still don't react. Another WIMPER. Just as far away, but louder. Whatever it is, it's desperate. Will stands, shrugs on a coat and grabs a flashlight.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT -

Will walks onto the front porch, closing the door so the dogs can't follow him. He listens. An even more frantic CRY. Will hurries off the porch in the direction of the distress.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FIELD - NIGHT -

Will wades into the darkness, his flashlight growing fainter. The crying is more intense now. It rises and falls, growing louder and softer as Will searches, wincing at the horrible sound of the high-pitched, fear-induced whines. Then a sudden quiet. Will holds his breath, listening, shining his flashlight in the direction of the last, sad whimper. Nothing. He stands there a moment, unsure what to do.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FIELD - MORNING -

As Will scans the forest floor around him, Y/N is searching the underbrush, as well. "If it wasn't a coyote, the coyotes probably got it. Probably got it even if it was a coyote." Will says as he scans the area, and then looks at me. "You're not expecting to find it alive, are you?" I ask curiously,  "We'll be lucky to find a paw." he scoffs and looks back around the forest. "If I knew we were looking for a paw, I'd've been looking closer." I laugh softly and continue looking. "I just want to get rid of anything that might attract predators."  He says "You invited me over to help you collect animal parts?" I smirk amusedly, kinda sad it wasn't just so we could hang out. "I invited you over on the off chance we find it alive. Hard to wrangle a wounded animal by myself. Did you think it was a date?" He says as he shakes his head 'no' "Honestly, it never crossed my mind." I lie, Will is at first relieved, then almost disappointed. "Why not?"

"You just don't seem like you date." I say honestly, "Too broken to date." he says with some good natured teasing and a hand over his heart.  "You're not broken. You're puzzled." I say smiling kindly and looking over at him. "I am puzzled. What's your excuse?" He asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, i take in a deep breath "For not dating? Why are you assuming I don't date?" I ask letting out the breath chuckling.  "Do you?" "No. Never found anyone worth dating, because of the last time. But I'm sure I'll find that somebody or somebodies some day but right now I overthink too much. And Analyze too much." I say laughing softly, "It's hard to date when you notice everything they do and have a pretty good idea why they do it." He laughs with me, i nod and take in another deep breath. "I get that. Worse than dating a psychiatrist and Criminal Profiler is being a psychiatrist  and Criminal Profile dating."

"Are you going to try to find that person or people, or are you gonna let them find you?" Will asks me, i look at him "I haven't thought about it." Will stops, puzzling over the icy underbrush around them. "See something?" I stop and turn to face him, Will glances around, making certain before he answers: "No, actually. I don't even see any tracks. Except the ones we made."

CONCERT HALL - AUDITORIUM - DAY -

The Dead Man sits in a kneeling ergonomic chair duct-taped to a back brace that holds him in an upright position. his mouth is agape, broken teeth, head held upright by the NECK OF A VIOLIN jammed down his gullet. His throat is OPEN, cut horizontally below the Adam's apple and vertically down the middle splayed open as if for dissection, the flaps of flesh affixed to metal rings. Y/N, Will, and Jack walk down the aisle, approaching the corpse, curious. VARIOUS POLICE OFFICERS, F.B.I., BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE and BEVERLY KATZ stand near the LOBBY DOORS, observing. "Victim is Douglas Wilson, member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra. Brass section. Trombone player." Jack briefs the two Profilers "Low brass. Was he any good?"  Will asks Y/N curiously,  She shrugs. "He was killed sometime after his last performance. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head." Jack says ignoring What Will was saying, "His killer brought him back here to put on a show." Y/N says tilting her head, "Got some idea about who'd do this?" Jack asks Will as Will shakes two aspirin out of bottle, tosses them back. "I may be courting that feeling that precedes an idea."

"Seems like it's getting easier for you to look." Jack says turning around to look at Will and Y/N. "I tell myself it's purely an intellectual exercise." Will shrugs, "In the narrow definition of forensics, that's what it is."

"But it's not getting easier, Jack. I shake it off and keep looking." Will says pointedly, Y/N knows more than anyone how Will feels, She herself finds it hard not to take home what she sees and feels at work.

"Good. You shake it off. You're all wired. I'll come back in when you tell me." Jack turns, climbing down from the stage. A POLICE OFFICER pulls the AUDITORIUM DOORS CLOSED behind Jack. The other SET OF DOORS are CLOSED by another LOCAL POLICE OFFICER. Will and Y/N are now alone with each other and their minds. He crosses the stage, circles the Dead Man. He takes a breath, exhales, then closes his eyes. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham's mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. He walks backward, away from the Dead Man, toward the lip of the stage. He climbs down and sits in the front row. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside Will's head. FWUM. FWUM. It SWINGS through FRAME, bringing down the HOUSE LIGHTS, plunging the seats of the auditorium into relative darkness. Will watches the BOUND and GAGGED MAN secured to the chair. The soon-to-be-Dead Man struggles against his bindings as Will emerges from the darkness and brings down a mallet on the back of his head, knocking his head violently forward. "I open the throat from the outside. Three incisions, one to bleed him, second to open the trachea and a third to expose the vocal chords." Will makes the incisions, slicing out a disc of trachea.

"I open the throat from inside with the neck of a violin." Will places a VIOLIN NECK into the Dead Man's open mouth, pushing it down his neck, until he can see the end of it through the opening he's made. This draws Will's attention to the powdery white residue on the victim's throat. "Powder on the wounds." He looks out on the meticulously designed acoustic space. "It's rosin from a bow." Will stands behind the corpse holding a string bow, "I wanted to play him. I wanted to create a sound." He raises the bow to the dead man's open throat. "This sound wasn't for you or from you. It was from me. My sound. This is my design." He runs the bow across the exposed and presented vocal chords, wrapped around the small end of the HEARING HORN intubator, emitting a single chilling note. "I give voice to death." over the auditorium as Will Graham bows the dead man's throat creating an eerie, incandescent sound......until WILL FINDS GARRET JACOB HOBBS sitting alongside a deathly pale Y/N. Will abruptly stops playing, then realizes no one else is there Besides Y/N

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

Beverly Katz uses magnifying goggles as she examines the open throat wounds with a small plastic instrument. Brian Zeller leans over the exposed vocal chords. Jimmy Price cranes his neck to get a better look over both their shoulders. Will Graham maintains a short distance from the body, hovering nearby. "Played him like a fiddle." Beverly says ironically, "Doesn't seem like he was playing". Jimmy says eyeing the body. Beverly rolls her eyes, "Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulfur dioxide, lye and olive oil in the wounds." She lists off what they found. "What's up with the olive oil?" Zeller asks confused, "He wasn't making a salad." Jimmy says sarcastically. "Removed anything non-muscular or fatty around the vocal folds. Chords themselves have been treated with a sulfur dioxide solution." Zeller points to the vocal folds on the body. Beverly plucks a very fine hair from the tissue. "Applied with a squirrel hair brush. Of squirrel, not for squirrel." Beverly says because of Zeller's confused face."Sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords." Jimmy says, From across the room, Will looks closely at the Dead Man.

"Made them easier to play." Will says as he starts to disassociate, ALL SOUND IS DULLED and finally over-taken by the sustained CHORD he struck earlier playing the Dead Man's throat. Will winces at the din of sound growing in his head. He focuses through it, staring at the Dead Man on the table, then: "Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you." Y/N says in a bitter tone as she walks in, SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL as Zeller, Price and Katz give Y/N a slow glance as she walks into the room. Will shakes off the ringing tone in his ears. "You pick it up and can't play it, he'll put you down and play you." Beverly says looking at Y/N, who looks like she had a rough night.  "He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before he played them. That's not very contemptuous." Zeller says raising an eyebrow. "It wasn't about whitening them. It was about increasing elasticity." Will says as he re-associates and looks at Y/N, he doesn't show his concern but he sure as hell feels it.

"He's treating the vocal chords the same way you'd treat catgut string. Yes, I played the violin." Beverly says crossing her arms and rolling her eyes playfully.  "We should be looking at musicians, people who make instruments, anyone who had a ticket to his last show." Will says as Y/N stares at the human instrument on the morgue table. "This takes a steady hand. A confidence. He's killed before."Y/N says softly, her voice strained and slightly gravelly.

"Like this?" Jimmy asks curiously, "Not like this. This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument." She replies, then looks over at Will. Their Blue eyes clashing, like two oceans finding a midpoint where they overlap. Y/N smiles softly and Feels the butterflies that love to flutter whenever Will is around...

HANNIBAL'S OFFICE - DAY -

Hannibal studies a pensive Will Graham and a Disassociated Dr. Y/N L/N as he observes: "Among the first musical instruments were flutes carved from human bone." "This murder was a performance." Y/N says recalling what she felt and saw (or 'imagined). For Y/N had once been in love with the stage, until her Mother had banned her from doing what helped her escape reality. "Every life is a piece of music. Like music, we are finite events, unique arrangements. Sometimes harmonious, sometimes dissonant." Hannibal says as he studies every movement the two profilers make. "Sometimes not worth hearing again." Will says causing both Y/N and Hannibal to look at him, they both know something is up with him. "He's a poet and a psychopath." Hannibal states in a tone neither partner can recognize.

"And a craftsman. He was shrinking and tanning the vocal chords." Will says as he walks around Hannibal's office, He comes up next to Y/N and places a Hand on the small of her back gently, Hannibal watches the pair curiously: "Like turning iron wire into musical steel string. Was there olive oil?" "Yes." Y/N says quietly as she blankly stares at the painting in front of her, trying to focus on anything but Will's hands on her. "Whatever sound he was trying to produce, it was an authentic one."

"Authentic?"

"Olive oil hasn't been used in the production of catgut for over a century. It was said to increase the life of the strings and create a sweeter, more melodic sound." That doesn't sit well with Will. "I can hear what he was playing behind my eyes, when I close them."

"What do you see behind closed eyes?" Will considers how to answer Hannibal's question, then decides to do it honestly: "I see myself." Hannibal ponders the deeper meaning of that, studying Will: "You said the killer was performing. Who was he performing for?" "I don't know. Patron of the arts. Fellow musician. Or another killer." Will says and walks towards another piece of art in Hannibal's large office.

"It's a serenade." Hannibal says  "One night only." Y/N says Turning around and looking at him.  "No repeat performance?"

"This isn't how he kills. How he kills, he doesn't get caught."

"You believe he risked getting caught for a serenade?" Hannibal looks at the Two.

"I believe he wants to show someone how well he plays."

"Intriguing."

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

WILL GRAHAM ties a fly, hearing the distant strains of the haunting music from the amphitheater. Frustrated, he drops the hook, covers his ears, and the music fades. Then he hears a faint SCRATCHING noise. Will's eyes open, staring into middle distance as he listens. Another SCRATCH-SCRATCH. Will looks at the dogs, who sleep soundly. SCRATCH-SCRATCH. Will OPENS the front door and listens. SCRATCH. There's nothing outside. Will scans the front porch and yard before finally closing the door. SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH. The dogs still don't react, even as Will steps over them, searching for the source of the SCRATCHING in the house. Will approaches the chimney wall above the fireplace. He presses his ear against the brick and listens. Nothing. Then SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH and a gaping, jagged hole in a chimney, surrounded by ruptured plaster and dry wall.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT -

Dr. Y/N L/N, still wearing her coat, and Will Graham, covered in dust and soot, gazing in at the jagged hole in the chimney. The dogs are all resting on Will's bed on the other side of the room. "What kind of animal was it?" I ask looking at him, "Might've been a raccoon." Will says gazing back at me. "Might've been?" I raise an eyebrow, "By the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it crawled out the top." Y/N Gazes at Will with care as surreptitiously as possible. Nevertheless Will notices her studied glance. "Well, at least it got out." I say as i move some of my hair behind my ear, "What are you doing out?" Will asks inching towards me as he looks me up and down. "Thought I'd make some noise and shoo away any predators at your door but looks like you were making plenty of noise all by yourself." I nudge a river rock part of the chimney's structure. Will eyes Y/N a moment, curious. "You avoided being in a room alone with me, essentially, since I met you. You were smooth about it, too." Will says coming closer and flexing his hand, I look him up and down taking a deep breath. "Evidently not smooth enough." I say taking another deep Breath. "Now you're making house calls." He says now in front of me and placing one of his hands on my cheek and the other on my waist. I close my eyes and take a shaky deep breath.

"It's just a drive-by. On my way home. Since we're partners." I say softly, "Yea, is that it?" Will says softly as he pulls her closer smirking and he brings his lips to hers in a KISS. Y/N's mind reels for a split second before she RETURNS THE KISS, Her hands holding his face as one of his holds hers. A moment of genuine, careless passion and then Y/N's brows furrow. She breaks off the kiss. "Will-" I say breathlessly, I look at will confused, Does he like me the way I like him? "You have to stop Overthinking so much." He says holding my face with such care and gentleness. "I can stop the thinking if we're not... But if we're..." I say softly trying to explain my feelings, "Intimate." He says placing his forehead against mine. "Will i- the last time i did this, let myself feel, Let myself be loved. It broke me. I don't want it to happen again." I say looking into his storm greyish blue eyes, "I wouldn't do that to you Y/N." He says running his hands through my hair, I eye the pile of debris in front of the fireplace. "What about work, this possibly could get us in trou-" He kisses me again. I don't resist, in fact I pull him closer, My hands going to the back of his neck and lacing into his hair. Will's kiss is more aggressive now and Y/N feels the heat rising in her and in them as well as their tongues meet and Will moves his hand into her hair. When Will finally takes his mouth off her she breathes deeply and looks at Will's loving gaze and looks at Will with her loving eyes. They both look at each other, slowly, and with care. Will leans forward and kisses Y/N again, more gentle this time and loving. She laughs softly and smiles as she looks up at him.

HANNIBAL'S HOME - MUD ROOM - NIGHT -

Hannibal OPENS the DOOR TO REVEAL Will Graham, shaking off his raincoat in the MUD ROOM. "I kissed Y/N." Will says abruptly. Hannibal blinks almost imperceptibly. "Come in."

HANNIBAL'S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT 3-

Hannibal leads Will into the room, surreptitiously looking for Tobias. Will notices the half-eaten meals as Hannibal shuts the garden door, locks it and pulls the shades before Will can see the footsteps in the snow outside.

"Did you have a guest?"

"A colleague. You just missed him." Hannibal clears the plates with the half-eaten meals.

"Didn't finish his dinner."

"An urgent call of some sort. Had to leave suddenly. This benefits you because I have dessert for two."

HANNIBAL'S HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT -

Hannibal whisks whipped cream and tosses a dollop on two Ramekins overflowing with an exotic bread pudding. "Tell me, what was Y/N's reaction?"

"She kissed me back."  Will says with a tone that reads 'i cant believe it'.  "She kissed you back?" He raises an eyebrow. "I know. i cant believe it." Will says as he stands and watches Hannibal prepare the dessert "Wondering then why you kissed her and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it."

"Well I've Wanted to kiss her since I met her. Shes very kissable."

"You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason in addition to wanting to." Hannibal Smirks softly.  "I heard an animal trapped in my chimney. I broke through the wall to get it out. Didn't find anything inside. Y/N showed up. She looked at me, maybe her face changed, I don't know. She knew." Will looks down as he said this. "What did she know, Will?" Hannibal asks as he plates the dessert with a dollop of whipped cream on top. "There wasn't an animal in the chimney. It was only in my head."

"Did she say that?"

"She didn't have to. I sleep walk. i get headaches. I'm hearing things. I feel unstable." Will walks closer to the counter.  "That's why you kissed her. A clutch for balance." Hannibal hands a plate of the Dessert to Will. "Not only Because I'm losing my mind. But because she understands me in a way no one else does, She is like a cool drink of water on a hot summers day. " Will sighs fondly at the thought of her. "You said it yourself what you do is not good for you. For either of you...."

"Unfortunately, I'm good for it. And so is Y/N."

"Are you still hearing this killer's serenade behind your eyes?" Hannibal asks,  Will nods "it's our song."         "I hesitate telling you this as it borders on a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. I've never been in this position before. A patient told me today he suspects a friend of his may be involved with the murder at the symphony."

"What did he say about his friend?"Will asks curiously,  "He owns a music store in Baltimore, specializing in string instruments. Perhaps you should interview him."  Hannibal innocently sending Will and subsequently Y/N into the lion's den...

BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

Hannibal sits opposite Bedelia. "For the first time in a long while I see a possibility of friendship."

"Is there someone new in your life?"

"I met a man and a woman both much like myself, same hobbies, same world views. But I'm not interested in being Their friend. I'm curious about them and that got me curious about friendship." Hannibal smiles softly in a curious way. "Whose friendship are you considering?"

"Oddly enough, colleagues and patients. Not unlike how I am a colleague and patient of yours. We've discussed Them before."

"Will Graham And Dr. Y/N L/N. "

"They are nothing like me. We see the world in different ways, yet they can assume my point of view."

"By profiling the criminally insane?"

"As good a demonstration as any. I find it reassuring."

"It's nice to have someone see us,Hannibal. Or have the ability to see us. It requires trust. Trust isn't easy for you." Bedelia points out, something so obvious yet so vague when it comes to Hannibal. "You mean, behind the veil?" Hannibal asks, She stares -- that's exactly what she means. "You've helped me to better understand what I want in a friendship. And what I don't."

"Someone worthy of your friendship." The word "worthy" rings true for Hannibal. She can see it. "Yes."

"You spend a lot of time building walls, Hannibal. It's natural to want to see if anyone is clever enough to climb over them."

CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP - DAY -

Will Graham and Dr. Y/N L/N are flanked by TWO LOCAL BALTIMORE POLICE OFFICERS as they approach the front door. The BELL above the door RINGS as Will and Y/N ENTER, followed by the TWO BALTIMORE POLICE OFFICERS - STEWART and DORMAU. Tobias is escorting the PRE-TEEN CELLO PLAYER seen earlier out from the parlor behind the storefront. "I'm Special Agent Will Graham and This is Dr. Y/N L/N" Will introduces us to the Owner of the shop. "Yes, Tobias Budge. I'm just showing one of my students out. Can you give me a moment?" Will nods. Tobias guides the Pre-Teen Cello Player out the door. "JSB's Suite #1 for Saturday." Mr. Budge says to his student, "Okay." the Pre-Teen Cello Player glances over his shoulder, then EXITS. Tobias turns back to Will Graham, Dr. Y/N L/N and the Police Officers. "What can I help you with?"

"We're investigating the death of Douglas Wilson. He was a --" I am interrupted, "The Trombonist." "Thats right, um Did you know him?" I ask, "I was aware of him. Baltimore's a small town and its cultural arts community is even smaller." Tobias adjusts a display cello, loosening the balance rod. "That's why we're here, Mr. Budge." Will says from beside me.

"I hear someone cut his throat and tried to play it with a bow." Mr. Budge says curiously with a sinister twinge to his tone. "Why do you say try?" I ask with curiousity and woefulness tainting my question. "Strings have to be treated. You can't just open somebody up and run a bow across their innards and expect to produce a sound." Will HEARS the familiar strains of the HAUNTING MELODY rising in his ears, trying to focus through it. "The vocal chords were chemically treated, similar to how catgut strings are treated. We kept those details out of the press." Will says.  "Looking for someone who knows how to manufacture gut strings?" Tobias asks keeping his eyes on Y/N and Will. "Anyone leap to mind?" Tobias hands Will a bundle of catgut strings, but he doesn't take his eyes off Tobias. Tobias is sensing his suspicion.

"Mine are imported from Italy. Best catgut is. The String section of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra refuses to play anything else."

"More authentic." I say softly.

"A richer, darker sound. Allows music to say what words can't." Then a HORRIBLE SKIDDING NOISE from outside followed by a SICKENING THUMP and the PAINED CRY of a DOG. Will startles. "Something wrong?" Tobias questions, with a tilt of his head.

"Sounded like a dog got hit by a car. You didn't hear it?" Will says concernedly, i look at him and shake my head 'no' softly. "I didn't hear anything." Tobias and the other Police Officer shake their heads "no," they didn't hear anything either. Another WIMPERED CRY.

"Excuse me a minute." Tobias strums the strings of the cello he just straightened as he watches Will cross to the door and EXIT. Y/N following in suit behind him.

Will steps out of the shop and down the walkway, his eyes searching the street for any sign of a commotion or wounded animal. He sees nothing. He hears nothing. A PEDESTRIAN eyes Will and keeps moving. Y/N just watches Will with concern as he shakes out aspirin into his hand and tosses them back, swallowing hard. He rubs his forehead and squints at the snow, worried. Finally, he trudges back toward...

CHORDOPHONE STRINGS SHOP - DAY -

Will Graham And Dr. Y/N L/N REENTER and are quick to apologize. "Sorry about that. I --" The store is empty. Approaching the counter, he pauses. "Officers. Officers." Y/N calls out. Will simultaneously retrieves weapon and phone. Y/N Grabs her own firearm, following behind Will. "I need ERT at Chordophone Strings downtown Baltimore. Officers down."  Will and Y/N step behind the counter and slip into --

The private room for lessons seen earlier. Will and Y/N enter to find OFFICER STEWART tumbled over the piano bench, a CELLO ROD jammed under his neck through the top of his head. Then suddenly, Will hears a strange noise coming from a the depths of an obscured STAIRCASE. SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH...

Y/N Trying to decipher the sound. Guns out in front of Them, the partners move into the darkness of the stairs until it swallows them whole.

CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP - BASEMENT -

They hug the wall. Waiting till their eyes adjust to the dim light of a single light bulb. But the smell tells them before their eyes can verify what their brains already knows. This is where Tobias Budge makes his own catgut strings. ROPES OF INTESTINES Running the length of the room, drying. Lying in long cleansing troughs of water. Cut strings lying in piles like pasta in pans on a table. An eerie and horrible MAZE OF STRINGS in various stages of treatment.

And then she hears it again. Scratch-scratch-scratch...It's coming from behind an opaque curtain hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the basement. Will approaches cautiously and then slips almost falling. Y/N keeps a watchful eye to their surroundings as they push forward.

He glances down to see what he stepped on. It is OFFICER DORMAU'S BADGE in a pool of blood.

Y/N throws back the curtain to find Officer Dormau on his knees, dangling forward, supported by a SERIES OF RAZOR SHARP WIRE STRINGS cutting DEEP INTO HIS FACE AND NECK. The Scratch-Scratch-Scratching SOUND was his intact hand swinging, rubbing against the cement floor -- while his severed and sliced hand whisks back and forth unobstructed. Scratch-scratch-scratch. Y/N doesn't allow herself to be distracted long, turning and scanning the area for any signs of Tobias Budge. A BLUR OF MOVEMENT out of the corner of Will's eye.

Tobias loops a MULTI-WIRED WEAPON (imagine a TWO BRASS KNUCKLES connected by FOUR RAZOR SHARP STRINGS) over Y/N's head. Y/N raises an arm defensively over her face and throat, but the STRINGS CUT into her regardless, She reels back her leg and rams it into the family jewels of Tobias Budge. He almost lets go but doesn't. Y/N continues to struggle and kick at Tobias' legs. Will's gun comes up, FIRING next to his own ear and blowing TOBIAS' ear off. The BANG is deafening, literally. Y/N's HEARING GOES DARK AND MUDDY, as she reels from the pain. He clutches his ear with his bloody hand, spinning to find Tobias clutching his own bloody ear. Will raises the gun to fire again and......Tobias is already moving, scurrying out of sight. BLAM! Will FIRES, missing Tobias and blowing a hole in the wall. BLAM! BLAM! Tobias quickly climbs the stairs and disappears. Y/N stands there a moment, shaking, as the RINGING in her ear is slowly replaced by the RINGING OF SIRENS.

Will rushes back over to his shaken partner, "Y/N, Honey are you okay?" He asks as he looks at her arm and then at her face. He gently takes her face into his hands as he looks her over. Other than her injuries, he sees nothing but her shaken posterior, and places a delicate kiss to her forehead. He lets out a Relieved sigh.

HANNIBAL'S OFFICE - MINUTES LATER -

Hannibal's office is now an ACTIVE CRIME SCENE. LOCAL POLICE OFFICERS, DETECTIVES and EMERGENCY RESPONDERS present. The corpses of Tobias and Franklyn lie sadly amongst the debris. Hannibal's being treated by a PARAMEDIC, bandaging his arm and tending to his other wounds. Hannibal stares into middle-distance until he sees Y/N and Will ENTER, Y/N's arm and neck are bandaged, Jack Crawford at their side. Will eyes the BLOODY STAG STATUE next to Tobias' dead body. Hannibal is visibly relieved to see Will and Y/N alive and well.

"Mr. Budge said he was questioned by the FBI and he murdered two people. I was worried you two were dead." Hannibal says with a relieved sigh. Y/N demonstrates her own wounded arm. "You had reason to worry." I smile softly, glad to see that he was okay as well. "Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore Police Officers, nearly kills two FBI Special Agents, and after all that his first stop is your office." Jack says curiously. "He came to kill my patient."

"Hannibal's patient told him he suspected a friend was involved with the murder at the symphony. Hannibal told me and I as well as Y/N investigated. I got him involved."

"Your patient. Is that who Tobias Budge was serenading?" I ask Hannibal. "I don't know. Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge he didn't have to kill anymore. Then he broke Franklyn's neck. Then he attacked me." Hannibal says, as Jack nods; "And you killed him." Hannibal eyes with convincing sadness Franklyn's corpse as it is placed into a body bag and hoisted onto a gurney. "Yes."

"Could your patient've been involved with any of what Budge was doing?"

"I thought this was a simple matter of poor choice in friends." Jack eyes Hannibal a brief moment, then turns his attention to the crime scene and the TWO BODIES being wheeled out. "This doesn't feel simple." Jack moves off to study the crime scene as Y/N sits, taking gauze from a med-kit and dabbing Hannibal's bloody forehead. "I feel like me and Will have dragged you into our world." I say softly with compassion. Hannibal chuckles softly,  "I got here on my own. But I appreciate the company."

Smiles are exchanged in Will, Y/N, a

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

WILL GRAHAM lies with dogs, enjoying three fingers of juice. The SPACE HEATER in the fireplace emits a warm halo around the pack as Will works over the innards of the boat motor. Will stops working, listening. He eyes the dogs, they don't react, going about their leisure. Will returns to work. A distant, almost imperceptible CRY. Will stops again. He glances at the dogs, they still don't react. Another WIMPER. Just as far away, but louder. Whatever it is, it's desperate. Will stands, shrugs on a coat and grabs a flashlight.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT -

Will walks onto the front porch, closing the door so the dogs can't follow him. He listens. An even more frantic CRY. Will hurries off the porch in the direction of the distress.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FIELD - NIGHT -

Will wades into the darkness, his flashlight growing fainter. The crying is more intense now. It rises and falls, growing louder and softer as Will searches, wincing at the horrible sound of the high-pitched, fear-induced whines. Then a sudden quiet. Will holds his breath, listening, shining his flashlight in the direction of the last, sad whimper. Nothing. He stands there a moment, unsure what to do.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - FIELD - MORNING -

As Will scans the forest floor around him, Y/N is searching the underbrush, as well. "If it wasn't a coyote, the coyotes probably got it. Probably got it even if it was a coyote." Will says as he scans the area, and then looks at me. "You're not expecting to find it alive, are you?" I ask curiously,  "We'll be lucky to find a paw." he scoffs and looks back around the forest. "If I knew we were looking for a paw, I'd've been looking closer." I laugh softly and continue looking. "I just want to get rid of anything that might attract predators."  He says "You invited me over to help you collect animal parts?" I smirk amusedly, kinda sad it wasn't just so we could hang out. "I invited you over on the off chance we find it alive. Hard to wrangle a wounded animal by myself. Did you think it was a date?" He says as he shakes his head 'no' "Honestly, it never crossed my mind." I lie, Will is at first relieved, then almost disappointed. "Why not?"

"You just don't seem like you date." I say honestly, "Too broken to date." he says with some good natured teasing and a hand over his heart.  "You're not broken. You're puzzled." I say smiling kindly and looking over at him. "I am puzzled. What's your excuse?" He asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, i take in a deep breath "For not dating? Why are you assuming I don't date?" I ask letting out the breath chuckling.  "Do you?" "No. Never found anyone worth dating, because of the last time. But I'm sure I'll find that somebody or somebodies some day but right now I overthink too much. And Analyze too much." I say laughing softly, "It's hard to date when you notice everything they do and have a pretty good idea why they do it." He laughs with me, i nod and take in another deep breath. "I get that. Worse than dating a psychiatrist and Criminal Profiler is being a psychiatrist  and Criminal Profile dating."

"Are you going to try to find that person or people, or are you gonna let them find you?" Will asks me, i look at him "I haven't thought about it." Will stops, puzzling over the icy underbrush around them. "See something?" I stop and turn to face him, Will glances around, making certain before he answers: "No, actually. I don't even see any tracks. Except the ones we made."

CONCERT HALL - AUDITORIUM - DAY -

The Dead Man sits in a kneeling ergonomic chair duct-taped to a back brace that holds him in an upright position. his mouth is agape, broken teeth, head held upright by the NECK OF A VIOLIN jammed down his gullet. His throat is OPEN, cut horizontally below the Adam's apple and vertically down the middle splayed open as if for dissection, the flaps of flesh affixed to metal rings. Y/N, Will, and Jack walk down the aisle, approaching the corpse, curious. VARIOUS POLICE OFFICERS, F.B.I., BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE and BEVERLY KATZ stand near the LOBBY DOORS, observing. "Victim is Douglas Wilson, member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra. Brass section. Trombone player." Jack briefs the two Profilers "Low brass. Was he any good?"  Will asks Y/N curiously,  She shrugs. "He was killed sometime after his last performance. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head." Jack says ignoring What Will was saying, "His killer brought him back here to put on a show." Y/N says tilting her head, "Got some idea about who'd do this?" Jack asks Will as Will shakes two aspirin out of bottle, tosses them back. "I may be courting that feeling that precedes an idea."

"Seems like it's getting easier for you to look." Jack says turning around to look at Will and Y/N. "I tell myself it's purely an intellectual exercise." Will shrugs, "In the narrow definition of forensics, that's what it is."

"But it's not getting easier, Jack. I shake it off and keep looking." Will says pointedly, Y/N knows more than anyone how Will feels, She herself finds it hard not to take home what she sees and feels at work.

"Good. You shake it off. You're all wired. I'll come back in when you tell me." Jack turns, climbing down from the stage. A POLICE OFFICER pulls the AUDITORIUM DOORS CLOSED behind Jack. The other SET OF DOORS are CLOSED by another LOCAL POLICE OFFICER. Will and Y/N are now alone with each other and their minds. He crosses the stage, circles the Dead Man. He takes a breath, exhales, then closes his eyes. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham's mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. He walks backward, away from the Dead Man, toward the lip of the stage. He climbs down and sits in the front row. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside Will's head. FWUM. FWUM. It SWINGS through FRAME, bringing down the HOUSE LIGHTS, plunging the seats of the auditorium into relative darkness. Will watches the BOUND and GAGGED MAN secured to the chair. The soon-to-be-Dead Man struggles against his bindings as Will emerges from the darkness and brings down a mallet on the back of his head, knocking his head violently forward. "I open the throat from the outside. Three incisions, one to bleed him, second to open the trachea and a third to expose the vocal chords." Will makes the incisions, slicing out a disc of trachea.

"I open the throat from inside with the neck of a violin." Will places a VIOLIN NECK into the Dead Man's open mouth, pushing it down his neck, until he can see the end of it through the opening he's made. This draws Will's attention to the powdery white residue on the victim's throat. "Powder on the wounds." He looks out on the meticulously designed acoustic space. "It's rosin from a bow." Will stands behind the corpse holding a string bow, "I wanted to play him. I wanted to create a sound." He raises the bow to the dead man's open throat. "This sound wasn't for you or from you. It was from me. My sound. This is my design." He runs the bow across the exposed and presented vocal chords, wrapped around the small end of the HEARING HORN intubator, emitting a single chilling note. "I give voice to death." over the auditorium as Will Graham bows the dead man's throat creating an eerie, incandescent sound......until WILL FINDS GARRET JACOB HOBBS sitting alongside a deathly pale Y/N. Will abruptly stops playing, then realizes no one else is there Besides Y/N

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

Beverly Katz uses magnifying goggles as she examines the open throat wounds with a small plastic instrument. Brian Zeller leans over the exposed vocal chords. Jimmy Price cranes his neck to get a better look over both their shoulders. Will Graham maintains a short distance from the body, hovering nearby. "Played him like a fiddle." Beverly says ironically, "Doesn't seem like he was playing". Jimmy says eyeing the body. Beverly rolls her eyes, "Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulfur dioxide, lye and olive oil in the wounds." She lists off what they found. "What's up with the olive oil?" Zeller asks confused, "He wasn't making a salad." Jimmy says sarcastically. "Removed anything non-muscular or fatty around the vocal folds. Chords themselves have been treated with a sulfur dioxide solution." Zeller points to the vocal folds on the body. Beverly plucks a very fine hair from the tissue. "Applied with a squirrel hair brush. Of squirrel, not for squirrel." Beverly says because of Zeller's confused face."Sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords." Jimmy says, From across the room, Will looks closely at the Dead Man.

"Made them easier to play." Will says as he starts to disassociate, ALL SOUND IS DULLED and finally over-taken by the sustained CHORD he struck earlier playing the Dead Man's throat. Will winces at the din of sound growing in his head. He focuses through it, staring at the Dead Man on the table, then: "Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you." Y/N says in a bitter tone as she walks in, SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL as Zeller, Price and Katz give Y/N a slow glance as she walks into the room. Will shakes off the ringing tone in his ears. "You pick it up and can't play it, he'll put you down and play you." Beverly says looking at Y/N, who looks like she had a rough night.  "He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before he played them. That's not very contemptuous." Zeller says raising an eyebrow. "It wasn't about whitening them. It was about increasing elasticity." Will says as he re-associates and looks at Y/N, he doesn't show his concern but he sure as hell feels it.

"He's treating the vocal chords the same way you'd treat catgut string. Yes, I played the violin." Beverly says crossing her arms and rolling her eyes playfully.  "We should be looking at musicians, people who make instruments, anyone who had a ticket to his last show." Will says as Y/N stares at the human instrument on the morgue table. "This takes a steady hand. A confidence. He's killed before."Y/N says softly, her voice strained and slightly gravelly.

"Like this?" Jimmy asks curiously, "Not like this. This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument." She replies, then looks over at Will. Their Blue eyes clashing, like two oceans finding a midpoint where they overlap. Y/N smiles softly and Feels the butterflies that love to flutter whenever Will is around...

HANNIBAL'S OFFICE - DAY -

Hannibal studies a pensive Will Graham and a Disassociated Dr. Y/N L/N as he observes: "Among the first musical instruments were flutes carved from human bone." "This murder was a performance." Y/N says recalling what she felt and saw (or 'imagined). For Y/N had once been in love with the stage, until her Mother had banned her from doing what helped her escape reality. "Every life is a piece of music. Like music, we are finite events, unique arrangements. Sometimes harmonious, sometimes dissonant." Hannibal says as he studies every movement the two profilers make. "Sometimes not worth hearing again." Will says causing both Y/N and Hannibal to look at him, they both know something is up with him. "He's a poet and a psychopath." Hannibal states in a tone neither partner can recognize.

"And a craftsman. He was shrinking and tanning the vocal chords." Will says as he walks around Hannibal's office, He comes up next to Y/N and places a Hand on the small of her back gently, Hannibal watches the pair curiously: "Like turning iron wire into musical steel string. Was there olive oil?" "Yes." Y/N says quietly as she blankly stares at the painting in front of her, trying to focus on anything but Will's hands on her. "Whatever sound he was trying to produce, it was an authentic one."

"Authentic?"

"Olive oil hasn't been used in the production of catgut for over a century. It was said to increase the life of the strings and create a sweeter, more melodic sound." That doesn't sit well with Will. "I can hear what he was playing behind my eyes, when I close them."

"What do you see behind closed eyes?" Will considers how to answer Hannibal's question, then decides to do it honestly: "I see myself." Hannibal ponders the deeper meaning of that, studying Will: "You said the killer was performing. Who was he performing for?" "I don't know. Patron of the arts. Fellow musician. Or another killer." Will says and walks towards another piece of art in Hannibal's large office.

"It's a serenade." Hannibal says  "One night only." Y/N says Turning around and looking at him.  "No repeat performance?"

"This isn't how he kills. How he kills, he doesn't get caught."

"You believe he risked getting caught for a serenade?" Hannibal looks at the Two.

"I believe he wants to show someone how well he plays."

"Intriguing."

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

WILL GRAHAM ties a fly, hearing the distant strains of the haunting music from the amphitheater. Frustrated, he drops the hook, covers his ears, and the music fades. Then he hears a faint SCRATCHING noise. Will's eyes open, staring into middle distance as he listens. Another SCRATCH-SCRATCH. Will looks at the dogs, who sleep soundly. SCRATCH-SCRATCH. Will OPENS the front door and listens. SCRATCH. There's nothing outside. Will scans the front porch and yard before finally closing the door. SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH. The dogs still don't react, even as Will steps over them, searching for the source of the SCRATCHING in the house. Will approaches the chimney wall above the fireplace. He presses his ear against the brick and listens. Nothing. Then SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH and a gaping, jagged hole in a chimney, surrounded by ruptured plaster and dry wall.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT -

Dr. Y/N L/N, still wearing her coat, and Will Graham, covered in dust and soot, gazing in at the jagged hole in the chimney. The dogs are all resting on Will's bed on the other side of the room. "What kind of animal was it?" I ask looking at him, "Might've been a raccoon." Will says gazing back at me. "Might've been?" I raise an eyebrow, "By the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it crawled out the top." Y/N Gazes at Will with care as surreptitiously as possible. Nevertheless Will notices her studied glance. "Well, at least it got out." I say as i move some of my hair behind my ear, "What are you doing out?" Will asks inching towards me as he looks me up and down. "Thought I'd make some noise and shoo away any predators at your door but looks like you were making plenty of noise all by yourself." I nudge a river rock part of the chimney's structure. Will eyes Y/N a moment, curious. "You avoided being in a room alone with me, essentially, since I met you. You were smooth about it, too." Will says coming closer and flexing his hand, I look him up and down taking a deep breath. "Evidently not smooth enough." I say taking another deep Breath. "Now you're making house calls." He says now in front of me and placing one of his hands on my cheek and the other on my waist. I close my eyes and take a shaky deep breath.

"It's just a drive-by. On my way home. Since we're partners." I say softly, "Yea, is that it?" Will says softly as he pulls her closer smirking and he brings his lips to hers in a KISS. Y/N's mind reels for a split second before she RETURNS THE KISS, Her hands holding his face as one of his holds hers. A moment of genuine, careless passion and then Y/N's brows furrow. She breaks off the kiss. "Will-" I say breathlessly, I look at will confused, Does he like me the way I like him? "You have to stop Overthinking so much." He says holding my face with such care and gentleness. "I can stop the thinking if we're not... But if we're..." I say softly trying to explain my feelings, "Intimate." He says placing his forehead against mine. "Will i- the last time i did this, let myself feel, Let myself be loved. It broke me. I don't want it to happen again." I say looking into his storm greyish blue eyes, "I wouldn't do that to you Y/N." He says running his hands through my hair, I eye the pile of debris in front of the fireplace. "What about work, this possibly could get us in trou-" He kisses me again. I don't resist, in fact I pull him closer, My hands going to the back of his neck and lacing into his hair. Will's kiss is more aggressive now and Y/N feels the heat rising in her and in them as well as their tongues meet and Will moves his hand into her hair. When Will finally takes his mouth off her she breathes deeply and looks at Will's loving gaze and looks at Will with her loving eyes. They both look at each other, slowly, and with care. Will leans forward and kisses Y/N again, more gentle this time and loving. She laughs softly and smiles as she looks up at him.

HANNIBAL'S HOME - MUD ROOM - NIGHT -

Hannibal OPENS the DOOR TO REVEAL Will Graham, shaking off his raincoat in the MUD ROOM. "I kissed Y/N." Will says abruptly. Hannibal blinks almost imperceptibly. "Come in."

HANNIBAL'S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT 3-

Hannibal leads Will into the room, surreptitiously looking for Tobias. Will notices the half-eaten meals as Hannibal shuts the garden door, locks it and pulls the shades before Will can see the footsteps in the snow outside.

"Did you have a guest?"

"A colleague. You just missed him." Hannibal clears the plates with the half-eaten meals.

"Didn't finish his dinner."

"An urgent call of some sort. Had to leave suddenly. This benefits you because I have dessert for two."

HANNIBAL'S HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT -

Hannibal whisks whipped cream and tosses a dollop on two Ramekins overflowing with an exotic bread pudding. "Tell me, what was Y/N's reaction?"

"She kissed me back."  Will says with a tone that reads 'i cant believe it'.  "She kissed you back?" He raises an eyebrow. "I know. i cant believe it." Will says as he stands and watches Hannibal prepare the dessert "Wondering then why you kissed her and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it."

"Well I've Wanted to kiss her since I met her. Shes very kissable."

"You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason in addition to wanting to." Hannibal Smirks softly.  "I heard an animal trapped in my chimney. I broke through the wall to get it out. Didn't find anything inside. Y/N showed up. She looked at me, maybe her face changed, I don't know. She knew." Will looks down as he said this. "What did she know, Will?" Hannibal asks as he plates the dessert with a dollop of whipped cream on top. "There wasn't an animal in the chimney. It was only in my head."

"Did she say that?"

"She didn't have to. I sleep walk. i get headaches. I'm hearing things. I feel unstable." Will walks closer to the counter.  "That's why you kissed her. A clutch for balance." Hannibal hands a plate of the Dessert to Will. "Not only Because I'm losing my mind. But because she understands me in a way no one else does, She is like a cool drink of water on a hot summers day. " Will sighs fondly at the thought of her. "You said it yourself what you do is not good for you. For either of you...."

"Unfortunately, I'm good for it. And so is Y/N."

"Are you still hearing this killer's serenade behind your eyes?" Hannibal asks,  Will nods "it's our song."         "I hesitate telling you this as it borders on a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. I've never been in this position before. A patient told me today he suspects a friend of his may be involved with the murder at the symphony."

"What did he say about his friend?"Will asks curiously,  "He owns a music store in Baltimore, specializing in string instruments. Perhaps you should interview him."  Hannibal innocently sending Will and subsequently Y/N into the lion's den...

BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

Hannibal sits opposite Bedelia. "For the first time in a long while I see a possibility of friendship."

"Is there someone new in your life?"

"I met a man and a woman both much like myself, same hobbies, same world views. But I'm not interested in being Their friend. I'm curious about them and that got me curious about friendship." Hannibal smiles softly in a curious way. "Whose friendship are you considering?"

"Oddly enough, colleagues and patients. Not unlike how I am a colleague and patient of yours. We've discussed Them before."

"Will Graham And Dr. Y/N L/N. "

"They are nothing like me. We see the world in different ways, yet they can assume my point of view."

"By profiling the criminally insane?"

"As good a demonstration as any. I find it reassuring."

"It's nice to have someone see us,Hannibal. Or have the ability to see us. It requires trust. Trust isn't easy for you." Bedelia points out, something so obvious yet so vague when it comes to Hannibal. "You mean, behind the veil?" Hannibal asks, She stares -- that's exactly what she means. "You've helped me to better understand what I want in a friendship. And what I don't."

"Someone worthy of your friendship." The word "worthy" rings true for Hannibal. She can see it. "Yes."

"You spend a lot of time building walls, Hannibal. It's natural to want to see if anyone is clever enough to climb over them."

CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP - DAY -

Will Graham and Dr. Y/N L/N are flanked by TWO LOCAL BALTIMORE POLICE OFFICERS as they approach the front door. The BELL above the door RINGS as Will and Y/N ENTER, followed by the TWO BALTIMORE POLICE OFFICERS - STEWART and DORMAU. Tobias is escorting the PRE-TEEN CELLO PLAYER seen earlier out from the parlor behind the storefront. "I'm Special Agent Will Graham and This is Dr. Y/N L/N" Will introduces us to the Owner of the shop. "Yes, Tobias Budge. I'm just showing one of my students out. Can you give me a moment?" Will nods. Tobias guides the Pre-Teen Cello Player out the door. "JSB's Suite #1 for Saturday." Mr. Budge says to his student, "Okay." the Pre-Teen Cello Player glances over his shoulder, then EXITS. Tobias turns back to Will Graham, Dr. Y/N L/N and the Police Officers. "What can I help you with?"

"We're investigating the death of Douglas Wilson. He was a --" I am interrupted, "The Trombonist." "Thats right, um Did you know him?" I ask, "I was aware of him. Baltimore's a small town and its cultural arts community is even smaller." Tobias adjusts a display cello, loosening the balance rod. "That's why we're here, Mr. Budge." Will says from beside me.

"I hear someone cut his throat and tried to play it with a bow." Mr. Budge says curiously with a sinister twinge to his tone. "Why do you say try?" I ask with curiousity and woefulness tainting my question. "Strings have to be treated. You can't just open somebody up and run a bow across their innards and expect to produce a sound." Will HEARS the familiar strains of the HAUNTING MELODY rising in his ears, trying to focus through it. "The vocal chords were chemically treated, similar to how catgut strings are treated. We kept those details out of the press." Will says.  "Looking for someone who knows how to manufacture gut strings?" Tobias asks keeping his eyes on Y/N and Will. "Anyone leap to mind?" Tobias hands Will a bundle of catgut strings, but he doesn't take his eyes off Tobias. Tobias is sensing his suspicion.

"Mine are imported from Italy. Best catgut is. The String section of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra refuses to play anything else."

"More authentic." I say softly.

"A richer, darker sound. Allows music to say what words can't." Then a HORRIBLE SKIDDING NOISE from outside followed by a SICKENING THUMP and the PAINED CRY of a DOG. Will startles. "Something wrong?" Tobias questions, with a tilt of his head.

"Sounded like a dog got hit by a car. You didn't hear it?" Will says concernedly, i look at him and shake my head 'no' softly. "I didn't hear anything." Tobias and the other Police Officer shake their heads "no," they didn't hear anything either. Another WIMPERED CRY.

"Excuse me a minute." Tobias strums the strings of the cello he just straightened as he watches Will cross to the door and EXIT. Y/N following in suit behind him.

Will steps out of the shop and down the walkway, his eyes searching the street for any sign of a commotion or wounded animal. He sees nothing. He hears nothing. A PEDESTRIAN eyes Will and keeps moving. Y/N just watches Will with concern as he shakes out aspirin into his hand and tosses them back, swallowing hard. He rubs his forehead and squints at the snow, worried. Finally, he trudges back toward...

CHORDOPHONE STRINGS SHOP - DAY -

Will Graham And Dr. Y/N L/N REENTER and are quick to apologize. "Sorry about that. I --" The store is empty. Approaching the counter, he pauses. "Officers. Officers." Y/N calls out. Will simultaneously retrieves weapon and phone. Y/N Grabs her own firearm, following behind Will. "I need ERT at Chordophone Strings downtown Baltimore. Officers down."  Will and Y/N step behind the counter and slip into --

The private room for lessons seen earlier. Will and Y/N enter to find OFFICER STEWART tumbled over the piano bench, a CELLO ROD jammed under his neck through the top of his head. Then suddenly, Will hears a strange noise coming from a the depths of an obscured STAIRCASE. SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH...

Y/N Trying to decipher the sound. Guns out in front of Them, the partners move into the darkness of the stairs until it swallows them whole.

CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP - BASEMENT -

They hug the wall. Waiting till their eyes adjust to the dim light of a single light bulb. But the smell tells them before their eyes can verify what their brains already knows. This is where Tobias Budge makes his own catgut strings. ROPES OF INTESTINES Running the length of the room, drying. Lying in long cleansing troughs of water. Cut strings lying in piles like pasta in pans on a table. An eerie and horrible MAZE OF STRINGS in various stages of treatment.

And then she hears it again. Scratch-scratch-scratch...It's coming from behind an opaque curtain hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the basement. Will approaches cautiously and then slips almost falling. Y/N keeps a watchful eye to their surroundings as they push forward.

He glances down to see what he stepped on. It is OFFICER DORMAU'S BADGE in a pool of blood.

Y/N throws back the curtain to find Officer Dormau on his knees, dangling forward, supported by a SERIES OF RAZOR SHARP WIRE STRINGS cutting DEEP INTO HIS FACE AND NECK. The Scratch-Scratch-Scratching SOUND was his intact hand swinging, rubbing against the cement floor -- while his severed and sliced hand whisks back and forth unobstructed. Scratch-scratch-scratch. Y/N doesn't allow herself to be distracted long, turning and scanning the area for any signs of Tobias Budge. A BLUR OF MOVEMENT out of the corner of Will's eye.

Tobias loops a MULTI-WIRED WEAPON (imagine a TWO BRASS KNUCKLES connected by FOUR RAZOR SHARP STRINGS) over Y/N's head. Y/N raises an arm defensively over her face and throat, but the STRINGS CUT into her regardless, She reels back her leg and rams it into the family jewels of Tobias Budge. He almost lets go but doesn't. Y/N continues to struggle and kick at Tobias' legs. Will's gun comes up, FIRING next to his own ear and blowing TOBIAS' ear off. The BANG is deafening, literally. Y/N's HEARING GOES DARK AND MUDDY, as she reels from the pain. He clutches his ear with his bloody hand, spinning to find Tobias clutching his own bloody ear. Will raises the gun to fire again and......Tobias is already moving, scurrying out of sight. BLAM! Will FIRES, missing Tobias and blowing a hole in the wall. BLAM! BLAM! Tobias quickly climbs the stairs and disappears. Y/N stands there a moment, shaking, as the RINGING in her ear is slowly replaced by the RINGING OF SIRENS.

Will rushes back over to his shaken partner, "Y/N, Honey are you okay?" He asks as he looks at her arm and then at her face. He gently takes her face into his hands as he looks her over. Other than her injuries, he sees nothing but her shaken posterior, and places a delicate kiss to her forehead. He lets out a Relieved sigh.

HANNIBAL'S OFFICE - MINUTES LATER -

Hannibal's office is now an ACTIVE CRIME SCENE. LOCAL POLICE OFFICERS, DETECTIVES and EMERGENCY RESPONDERS present. The corpses of Tobias and Franklyn lie sadly amongst the debris. Hannibal's being treated by a PARAMEDIC, bandaging his arm and tending to his other wounds. Hannibal stares into middle-distance until he sees Y/N and Will ENTER, Y/N's arm and neck are bandaged, Jack Crawford at their side. Will eyes the BLOODY STAG STATUE next to Tobias' dead body. Hannibal is visibly relieved to see Will and Y/N alive and well.

"Mr. Budge said he was questioned by the FBI and he murdered two people. I was worried you two were dead." Hannibal says with a relieved sigh. Y/N demonstrates her own wounded arm. "You had reason to worry." I smile softly, glad to see that he was okay as well. "Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore Police Officers, nearly kills two FBI Special Agents, and after all that his first stop is your office." Jack says curiously. "He came to kill my patient."

"Hannibal's patient told him he suspected a friend was involved with the murder at the symphony. Hannibal told me and I as well as Y/N investigated. I got him involved."

"Your patient. Is that who Tobias Budge was serenading?" I ask Hannibal. "I don't know. Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge he didn't have to kill anymore. Then he broke Franklyn's neck. Then he attacked me." Hannibal says, as Jack nods; "And you killed him." Hannibal eyes with convincing sadness Franklyn's corpse as it is placed into a body bag and hoisted onto a gurney. "Yes."

"Could your patient've been involved with any of what Budge was doing?"

"I thought this was a simple matter of poor choice in friends." Jack eyes Hannibal a brief moment, then turns his attention to the crime scene and the TWO BODIES being wheeled out. "This doesn't feel simple." Jack moves off to study the crime scene as Y/N sits, taking gauze from a med-kit and dabbing Hannibal's bloody forehead. "I feel like me and Will have dragged you into our world." I say softly with compassion. Hannibal chuckles softly,  "I got here on my own. But I appreciate the company."

Smiles are exchanged in Will, Y/N, and Hannibal and their uneasy camaraderie………

[primeofprimes115]

Lost Without You - Supergirl x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff 🥰 and Angst 🥺

Five years... Five... Years has passed since he lost his beloved to a Crisis.

She went ahead to defend the universe from a very, very powerful threat.

And when the threat was thwarted? He'd receive the most heartbreaking news.

"Kara Zor-El... Is dead" he was informed by the Last Son of Krypton, though the Kryptonian was devastated, the same could be said for the girl's fiancé, Y/N L/N.

The moment put him into a shock, he was in emotional distress, unable to cope with the news he received before he'd lash out at anyone who was there, before he was eventually calmed down by a few of his closest friends.

His worst nightmare had come to life... His own future wife, the Kryptonian woman he asked to marry... Was killed by sacrificing her life to save her cousin from what was known as the Anti-Monitor.

A funeral was held for Kara Zor-El aka Supergirl, where Y/N got to say his last goodbyes to his future wife in a devastated state, he felt... Anger, anger for those who COULD'VE saved her... But no one even tried.

He wasn't there, but he knew someone could've saved her, maybe save the Flash who also died in this Crisis... Yet no one tried anything.

He felt the hatred in his heart toward even the Man of Steel, who set to carry her body, covered in a blanket out to the outer rim of space to lay her to rest, potentially falling into the sun.

For a time, he distanced himself away from mostly everyone, anyone who was a super, tried to talk to him? He'd threaten them... Before eventually his closest friends would be threatened by him.

It wasn't long till he went through a stage of depression, which worried his close ones.

The only thing he ever wanted... Was his Kara back... His soulmate... His "Angel".

He even thought of setting himself free and letting go of the pain... By just a leap of faith, however he failed.

He was forced to get help after being convinced by one of his good friends since childhood, to get better, to try and move on from her... Though the help from a psychiatrist helped, still his other problems were at large... His sleeping was one of them.

"He's barely gotten sleep since the situation, he hasn't been eating, drinking, hasn't gotten showered for the last few months and... We're-We're worried about his health, he's declining from the looks of it" his close friend, Jacob and his wife sat and talked with the Psychiatrist, overlooking Y/N's mental status as a whole.

"Can you confirm Mr L/N?" the doctor asked politely as the young man looked up slightly.

"Yes" he said in a low tone of voice.

"His health is declining you say?" the doc asked the other two, which Jacob nodded his head. "Has he tried eating or drinking?" he then asked.

"He's tried... But he can't seem to eat like he used to" Jacob expressed his worry.

This has been the third week since Y/N went to his Psychiatrist, he had to be accompanied by someone to make sure he gets there alright, unless he runs into a criminal and the worse can happen to either him...

Or the common thug...

"I think I have all the information I need to put him on a prescription for medication, from the diagnosis... He's going through a Persistent Depressive Disorder, common symptoms are skipping or not eating food, not drinking, sleeping too much or too little... Which can cause a decline in health which can be a huge problem if not treated quick enough" the doc explained.

"I should also say that... He's been experiencing hallucinations a few times... Of his late wife" Jacob added.

"Fiancé, Jacob" Y/N lowly corrected.

"Fiancé, sorry. Y/N claims he sees her and hears her voice calling out to him, at first he thought she was alive again but then he... Well..." Jacob stopped, trying not to tell the full exact details, wanting to forget what had happened that day.

"Hallucinations?" the doc's eyes darted toward the young man as he slowly nodded, looking down at the floor, staring. "Hmm, that's also a sign of Depressive Psychosis, I'll have a prescription for that medication for him too once this session is over, hopefully have it rolled out as soon as possible" the doc added to his notebook of patients.

"Oh also... Could Y/N receive an emotional support animal? A dog perhaps? A service dog at least? He was open to have some sort of companion to keep him stable" Jacob's wife chimed in, open to support Jacob's best friend.

"I can contact the Dogs for Good provider and see if I can get a service dog to help Mr L/N with his condition" the doc issued to help and provide.

The weeks would go by and he started to open up his circle to others, even apologizing to some he threatened to kill if they ever got close to him. One of them was Clark Kent aka Superman, the cousin of Kara Zor-El.

He told Clark that he was lost without Kara...

But... He wasn't the only one who felt lost without the Girl of Tomorrow.

* *

The last five years had passed since Supergirl's death, the world had seemed to have changed since then.

It was no different that Y/N and his 4 and a half year old companion named Riley had moved away from the current city they lived in together, he said his goodbyes to everyone and moved away... To another Earth where it felt more safer for him to move around in.

Helped by Dr Fate and some others, he was able to travel to this different Earth where it felt the safest within the Multiverse, there were a few other Earths like this one... But this one felt it called his name. Where a new chapter in his life would finally begin.

On the ridge of Vancouver aka Vantucky located in the Washington State, laid a house that he stayed in.

This place costed at least $1.250.000 Dollars, but thankfully? He had some friends who helped buy him the place from his old home, that being his old Earth.

"Good day for a walk, ain't it Riley?" the mid-20s man looked to his K9 companion and asked his companion.

Riley barked once as to respond to his owner's question.

"Couldn't say it any better bestie" he smiled as the two turned up at the front door of their house, he pulled out the keys and began unlocking the door to enter his home.

He opens the door and enters before allowing his K9 friend to come in before closing the door behind him, exhaling his breath as he began taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Before he took another step, he heard Riley growling...

"What is it?" he asked as he bent down to comfort his K9, the dog barked toward the direction of where he was growling at, which set off alarms in Y/N's head. Riley wouldn't growl at the presence of Y/N's house cat Milo would he?

But... Someone unfamiliar had popped into his home when he suddenly realized why he was growling.

"Take it cool Riley, we go together" his heart was pounding, someone had broken into his home and not even the security alarm warned him of an intruder? This set off red alarms.

He pulled out his concealed handgun in his back pocket, in case he was apprehended by common thugs or whatever.

He moved slowly with the dog, aiming his handgun in front of him, finger on the trigger in case something were to jump out at him.

Never did he think someone would even dare break into his own home and manage to not trip the security that was placed in his home for any intruder who tried breaking in... The weird part? The more he slowly moved throughout his home, he began to think something was off, no break-ins were seen, the alarm wasn't tripped.

The dog began barking before rushing off, causing Y/N to panic.

"Riley, no!" Y/N shouted after the dog, hoping the intruder wouldn't hurt his K9 Service Dog, the barking continued as he quickly rushed to where Riley ran off to, only to stop at the sight of seeing someone... Very familiar standing beside a sleeping Milo on his favorite spot on the couch.

"Hi... Sparky" it was a blonde haired woman, she would smile but the dog kept barking at her and she didn't want to hurt it if it went to attack her with Y/N's permission to do so... Though the dog would only hurt itself if it did so.

His eyes bulged open, his heart began racing... He was wondering if he had taken his medication today since he was frozen still at the sight of seeing what he thought as a ghost.

His gun still aimed at her, she still wore the same outfit the day she went to fight for Earth's survival, the day she would say her last goodbyes without knowing she was going to die and leave a devastated Y/N behind her when she sacrificed herself.

"K-Kara?" he spoke the name of his late fiancé... Who appeared to be standing in front of him...

* *

Kara Zor-El stood still as the Anti-Monitor had been defeated, wounded but still able to stand.

She witnessed her own death here... At that exact moment when sacrificing her life to save her cousin from the Anti-Monitor. But luckily? She was saved by Zero-Hour Parallax Hal Jordan, even the Flash aka Barry Allen was saved by him too.

She knew what would happen if she were to die... How she ORIGINALLY died and the impact it would cause.

She first saw it through images of smoke in the Phantom Zone that had imprisoned Kryptonians that defiled the House of El.

She saw her devastated fiancé and what he was going through after her death, no matter her pleads to make the strange smoky visions stop, the images kept playing in her head. Watching her own body be carried to the sun by her cousin to lay her to rest, seeing her fiancé go through a very rough depressive state.

It was enough to make her panic with her thoughts, before she crumbled up into a ball and let the tears flow.

However, she promised to keep it all a secret, knowing she was going to die. She knows what happens to the timeline if things were altered.

She was fully willing to accept her fate, knowing how heartbreaking it is to see her future husband go through the pain of losing her and knowing Clark would be the last living member of the House of El... She had to accept it.

However... When things were revealed that a version of Brainiac had been up to no good with the multiverse at his fingertips, he began collecting different Earths and timelines, fitting them against each other, the winner? Gets a future.

However things weren't going well... The multiverse was unstable... Telos, a servant of this Brainiac had brought everyone to the dimension Brainiac was in to control the universes he collected.

The only way to restore it, was to send everyone back home and Brainiac was the only one who could do it.

But he couldn't... The first Crisis he claimed, was blocking him from doing so, in order to restore the multiverse, he had to send Pre-Crisis Supergirl and Flash back to their timeline, where they already knew their fates were sealed...

But in luck... Zero-Hour Hal Jordan aka Parallax had decided to go with them... Along with Superman and his Wife and newborn son, in which in an instant... The Multiverse was saved.

Kara issued a word with Brainiac and Telos before she would be saved by Zero-Hour Hal Jordan... She wanted to see her fiancé after the deed had been done, she didn't care if it wasn't the present Y/N or just after the Crisis, she wanted to see her fiancé since the vision she saw showed he NEVER moved on from her. 

And so her wish was granted the moment the Anti-Monitor was defeated...

"Ah! What?! Where... Where am I?" she was suddenly teleported into a home she didn't recognize. "Rao! This isn't my home... Is it?" she turned round and noticed she was standing in the living room, where small portraits were on display... Showing her fiancé in them. She recognized his face in them, showing she was in the right place... But something was different.

She stopped the moment her eyes laid upon an old photo on display. A photo of herself and Y/N, before they were even married... When she was living in New York City, wearing the old blouse and hot pants suit.

"Brainiac actually lived up to his promise? If only I could thank him" she smiled upon the old photo, she was definitely in the right place... But it seemed to be a different house.

She then looked around and saw a cat sleeping on the couch, who awoke at the sound of her voice... The cat looked a lot familiar.

"You look a lot like Streaky" she cooed, kneeling down at the cat as it yawned, waking up from its nap on the couch, trilling at her presence. "And very friendly like him too" she smiled a little more.

Before long... The Maiden of Steel heard a door opening with a familiar voice behind it. "Couldn't have said it any better bestie" she heard her fiancé's voice, talking to someone.

Before she could even move, she then heard a dog growl.

'A dog too?' Kara said in her mind, she even used her x-ray vision to check, confirming it was a German Shephard. 'Seems to be a service dog, like I saw in the visions' she added.

"Riley, no!" her fiancé shouted out for the dog, who came running into the living room while barking, she put her hands up in front of her as Riley continuously barked at her with some growls at the end.

Y/N came sprinting in, his handgun in hand and stopped at the sight of Kara Zor-El, who then focused her attention to as she put her hands down, relaxing them.

"Hi... Sparky" she said awkwardly, smiling like she was caught doing something stupid.

Y/N's eyes bulged wide open as the dog kept barking and growling, his gun still aimed at her as she tried to get closer, but the dog wouldn't allow it.

"K-Kara?" he asked, his eyes still wide open as his gun was drawn on her still.

Kara thought back to what Telos had mentioned about Y/N in the future of her death in the Crisis, he'd gone through a deep depression and had trouble with his life after her death, it was like he was lost without her, before eventually he got help, and got a service dog named Riley.

"I don't know how long it's been but... It's me, Kara Zor-El, your fiancé" she smiled softly, trying to get closer again but Y/N's service dog growled at her since she was unfamiliar to him within his own home.

Everything was as it said it should be, Telos only warned that things would be a little different after the Multiverse is restored, along with her own life. She'd have to be his Guardian Angel, like she always has been to him. To be a somewhat light in the darkness for him since he'd gone through that mental breakdown.

"No, no... No! You're just a damn figment of my damn mind!" he closed his eyes and looked away, refusing to even believe if what he was seeing was real. Kara felt heartbroken to see him this way in person, what did she have to do to convince him that she is alive in front of him? It was then that Riley began sniffing the Kryptonian's scent. "Riley, did I take my meds today?" he asked his dog, still looking away from him as he thought the person in front of him was another trick.

However, the dog was still sniffing Supergirl's scent as she knelt down to his level, upon finishing, the dog began wagging his tail as it sensed the girl wasn't threatening at all. 

"Riley?" he turned round to see Riley licking the "figment's" face as she giggled.

"For a service dog? Giving me kisses is something else" she giggled, remembering that Krypto the Superdog used to do it all the time when he greets her.

It was at that moment... Y/N's eyes widened once more, he felt his body go stiffer as he watched his dog lick the girl's face, giving her friendly kisses as she giggled away.

A few seconds go by and Riley stops, allowing the girl to stand up as he sat still next, allowing her to maneuver around now after being welcomed by him. Kara looks at her shocked and conflicted fiancé as the gun in his hands suddenly slips out from his hand, a loud thud hitting the ground as he stared at his supposed dead fiancé, now alive mysteriously.

"A-Angel?" he began to feel his eyes watering, all the pent up emotion getting to him as she got closer to him.

"It's me... I'm back, in a confusing way but I'll-" she was suddenly stopped by him rushing into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body as he dug his head into her, though he was slightly taller, he could still bury his head into her shoulder.

Kara heard the loud sniffles, as he let the tears flow down his face onto her suit's red shoulder where he burrowed his face into, hearing him sob her name out, asking if she was really alive a few times made her wrap her arms around him next, to show she was indeed alive once again, now in her arms after that long battle with the Anti-Monitor who originally, killed her.

His sobs were enough to make her eyes water with his, she didn't know if he was crying happily or the other way around, she stayed strong for him however and let him sob his heart out.

"It's been f-f-f-f-five y-years!" he sobbingly mumbled into her shoulder with a muffled tone before sniffling again. Her initial thought was confirmed, this was present day Y/N, some time after her death as Telos and Brainiac stated before she went through the portal to face the Anti-Monitor, with a different outcome.

"And I'm not leaving you again" she responded as his sniffles continued. "Can you look at me so I can kiss you?" she then asked, as her fiancé pulled back a little to look at her before their lips crashed into each other with Kara wiping away the tears on his face with her hands on his face.

He gave his all to show how much he missed her, melting into her lips as he kept his arms around her, not wanting to let go any sooner, in case he were to lose her again. giving small whimpers.

Their kiss soon ended as their foreheads rested on each other, their eyes opening as they look at one another.

"Kara I..." he didn't know how to process this situation. With her thumb, Kara wiped away another stray tear that fell down from his right eye.

"Shh" she cooed. "I'll explain everything later, right now? I just want to hold you right now, give you all the kisses and hugs in the world" she suggested, putting a smile on her fiancé's face.

"That's all I want right now" he softly spoke before the two smiled and kissed once more.

* *

"So... What you're telling me... Is that Brainiac admitted he felt loss? And then tried to restore the collapsing Multiverse which he originally caused to happen? He had to send you and our Barry back to face your deaths again, but an evil Hal Jordan saved you and Barry? Which pretty revived you?" Y/N spoke with confusion. "Okay... I'm confused" he admitted.

"Yeah, it's confusing I know... But... I'm alive again so... That's all that matters" she agreed, she was now out of her costume and put on a cardigan and casual short shorts with no socks on her feet, laying down on the couch with her fiancé reunited with her.

"Yeah... You've missed a lot" he spoke lowly. "I'm on meds now, got Riley as a service dog" he gestured while cuddling into Kara as Riley barked as a response. "And I got Milo" he then added.

Kara looked at the peacefully sleeping orange cat Milo as she smiled. "Reminds me of Streaky the Supercat".

"In a certain way? Yeah" he agreed with her on a short note.

"Y/N... I... I'm sorry for leaving you" she looked down at him, his eyes now focused on her by just moving his head to face her. "If I had known the impact I was going to leave on Kal, on you and everyone else? Especially you. I..." she then sighed, she was going to call herself selfish, but originally she saved her cousin from death, but it costed her, her own life.

"You don't need to be sorry and it's not your fault about what I went through... I found it hard to move on from you, which clouded my judgement, I was so angry, upset and... Drowsy" he took away the blame Kara was putting on herself, not wanting her to blame herself for what he went through as Kara began to realize. "But I got help eventually, Riley has been there since I got help, you're not gonna believe this but, he was a puppy when he became my emotional support animal and my service dog" he explained with a soft chuckle, causing the girl to smile.

"I believe you, cause I saw it like I said" she spoke before leaning her head down and kissed his forehead.

"As for earlier, I let those emotions out because I couldn't believe that my fiancé was alive again, for the last five years Kara, I still found it hard to move on. I've tried dating, but my heart could not move on from you, even with my mind playing tricks on me thinking I saw you in the distance or in front of me" Y/N unexpectedly began explaining, like it was sudden instinct to vent his thoughts. "I take medication to keep my mind straight, so I don't fall into that feeling again, ever since you died... I felt... Lost without you, and I couldn't bear with feeling crushed without you by my side" he choked on the last set of his words, with Kara now stroking his face.

"But I'm here now... To guide you once more, as you were with me when we first met" she cooed, stroking his face softly as he began to smile. "I can hang up the cape to be with you at all times, no more Supergirl... Just Kara L/N" the Kryptonian hinted while she smiled back.

"Kara, this world does need heroes, there's barely any out there in this world" he denied her suggestion. "This world needs a hero like you, to inspire others just like your cousin did".

"Are you certain?" she asked concerned. "I don't know how you'd really feel about me going back out there, after all you've been through without me".

"Yes" he looked Kara in the eye to show he was genuine about it. "This world needs someone like you... It may not be the same Earth but... It someone Super to be its Champion" he softly smiled.

Kara smiled with him before the she was pulled into a soft and passionate kiss, their lips touched with tenderness, longing for another long kiss before it broke.

"I've been strong for so long Kara... Losing you, really broke me, it broke me everywhere. I just wanted you back so much-"

"Shhhhh" Kara cooed, putting a finger on his lips as she softly smirked. "You don't need to fret anymore... I'm here with you now" she whispered softly.

Her fiancé's face brightened up upon hearing her words, it was all he ever needed... Was his soulmate to come back, even if he had moved on.

"I love you Kara, I love you so much" he cooed as the Kryptonian then planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"I love you too, Sparky" she smirked as their kiss was continued into a soft and gentle make-out session...

[mrsfrederickchilton]

FREDERICK. Chapter 54

The visit to the exhibition space left its mark on you: the next morning you woke up with a terrible runny nose, which tormented you for the next few days. No drops, sprays, pills, or food helped. You wanted to sleep, but your head was periodically splitting, as if the snot had penetrated even into your brain. Then a cough and weakness were added, although there was no fever. For three and a half days you made excuses, repeating that everything was fine. The last thing you wanted was to see or hear Dr. Chilton. At first, you rejected his calls, transferring communication to text messages and saying in them that you were just tired and wanted to be home alone. But when Tuesday evening came, and you still refused to talk on the phone and said that you would not come to the hospital on Wednesday, you had to pick up the phone anyway, because Dr. Chilton was going to come to you. By this time, you were feeling better, but, of course, he realized that you had a cold. It took you a lot of effort to convince him not to come. You had to tell straight out that you don't want to see anyone and are going to bed anyway.

Lie.

On Wednesday, orderly Higgins, with whom you exchanged phone numbers, sent a sad smiley in response to your message that your chess game would not take place today, and wished you a speedy recovery. We need you healthy.

We.

You told Dr. Chilton that you were practically healthy, but he wasn’t convinced. He called during his lunch break.

“What can I bring you?” the psychiatrist asked. “I mean…”

“Nothing, thank you. Really. I’m feeling much better. And I have everything.” You didn’t want him to come by at all, let alone bring you the medicine or groceries he was clearly trying to hint at. “Don't.”

“I’ll come anyway,” Dr. Chilton said. “Your voice is very weak.”

Oh, my God.

“It’s okay,” you said, hearing a mobile notification come through.

But Dr. Chilton was beyond convincing, you realized. Which was odd, considering he clearly wasn’t getting anything in return. Certainly not in your condition. And not in your apartment. Ugh.

“Literally for five minutes,” Dr. Chilton said, as if he hadn’t heard you. “So tell me what should I bring?”

Of course, he could just buy some cold medicine and some fruits, but he felt that you didn't want that. Perhaps that would really be too... solicitous? He hoped that you would give him specific instructions.

You thought about it. Some things, perhaps, could come in handy.

“I really need to get some sleep,” you replied. “Bring me some prescription medication.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. I hope he didn’t think I was suicidal.

“I haven’t slept well in days because of my cold,” you added.

“Yeah, sure,” Dr. Chilton replied. “Maybe some more…”

“And mineral water. I’m out of it. That’s all I need.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“I’m serious: don’t buy anything else.”

You hung up, looked around, and sighed. It would have been nice to do a quick cleaning, but you didn’t have the energy for it. If you had real guests, you would have overcome your weakness, but you decided not to count Dr. Chilton as a guest. After all, he had asked to come, and only for five minutes. You’d have to time him.

Oh, right. Notification. You looked at your phone, adjusted the pillow under your back and got comfortable. The browser notification that the psychiatrist had set up on his phone went off. It was funny, but Dr. Chilton's ego didn't allow him to miss a single mention of his name for any reason. You thought that if he turned off these notifications, he would be a little happier. You even wanted to give him such a gift. You clicked on the link and found yourself on one of the medical forums, in the “Interviews” section. There, they published, in fact, the interviews themselves, articles, scanned magazine spreads and all that stuff. There was also a fresh interview with... Dr. Irving. Who was pontificating on the topic of his own professionalism in everything under the sun and willingly answered a variety of questions. Yes, our colleague can be simply unbearable at times. This is what Dr. Irving said to a journalist who complained to him that Dr. Chilton for some reason suddenly refused to give an interview about one of his patients. And about ex-lover of that patient.

You put your phone down. The fact that journalists were still interested in your criminal didn't surprise you. But the fact that they were still interested in you... You thought things had calmed down a bit. But the strangest thing, of course, was that Dr. Chilton refused to give interview, which he couldn't live without before. He didn't want to talk about you?

Maybe he wanted to keep you for himself. Not for the journalist, not for Dr. Irving and the others who would read this interview. Just for himself.

Truth, Dr. Chilton would have said if you had asked. It was also a matter of trust. If he had given such an interview behind your back, you certainly wouldn't have liked it. He really thought you trust him.

You really thought you don't.

Two tangled souls.

Exactly twenty minutes later, you let him in and went back to bed, because you didn’t have the energy for anything more. It was the first time — and you hoped it wouldn’t happen again — that Dr. Chilton had visited your apartment. It was three, if not four times smaller than his, and the same number of times more homely. It was obvious that someone actually lived there, instead of just spend their time alone between work hours. However, the pile of boxes piled on top of each other against the wall spoiled the picture. Perhaps you just didn’t have the vigor to do anything about them?

On an impulse, Dr. Chilton bought you a small bouquet of flowers to cheer you up, but at the last moment he threw them in the trash can in front of your building, deciding that it was too much. He gave you three glass bottles of mineral water (the most expensive ones, of course) and two of regular still water, and waved some pills at you.

“But just one,” he said, pouring you some water.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Don't be afraid. It will just help you fall asleep.”

“A blister pack,” you said, holding out your hand.

And you smiled, smoothing over the fact that you clearly didn’t trust him. Well, who would take unknown pills? You read the name on the back of the blister and found it on the Internet. You read especially carefully about the side effects. Oddly enough, the medicine was quite safe. It seemed that Dr. Chilton knew a lot about this. You nodded, and he squeezed one pill out of the blister. You wanted to take it right away, but he said:

“It works very quickly. You’ll fall asleep almost immediately.”

At first, you didn’t understand; then you grinned:

“You said you'd only be here for five minutes.”

“Yes, but…” he put the pill on the table next to a glass of water. Then he looked back.

You followed his gaze and shuddered.

“Let me help you,” Dr. Chilton suggested, nodding at the boxes. “Should I put them away somewhere or just arrange them?” He stepped toward the pile by the wall.

“Don't touch it,” you said in such a voice that the psychiatrist, who had already reached out for one of the boxes, froze.

Such voice as if he was about to desecrate a sacred place. If you imagined for even a second that you would never see your love again, then this cardboard really did become sacred.

Dr. Chilton sensed that something was wrong.

“Why?” he asked.

“Let them stand.”

You said you were renting out your psychopath's apartment, but you didn't mention that you'd taken his things to your place instead of dumping them in the trash, like Dr. Chilton would have done in your place. But now he realized that himself. And the fact that you still didn't want anyone to touch them was pretty sad.

“They're just things,” he said, looking at you.

“Which are where they should be,” you answered his gaze.

He came over to your bed and sat down on a chair. Then he took a newspaper out of his briefcase and handed it to you.

“I don't read newspapers,” you said, surprised.

“Read this one and I'll go,” Dr. Chilton responded. “And you can finally get some sleep. It's not big.”

You shrugged, got comfortable in bed, and started skimming the paragraphs. The date was yesterday, the news was a day out of date, but for some reason Dr. Chilton wanted you to read it. Maybe there was something in it about you or your love? Thinking so, you began to read more carefully. By the end of the last, fourth page, you felt sick.

“This is something abnormal,” you said, folding the newspaper and handing it to Dr. Chilton. “I don't know why I needed to read this. I thought there was something...”

“What?”

“Something... important.”

“This is a very important newspaper,” Dr. Chilton replied.

You shook your head.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy? The world, it seems, has already gone mad.”

From what you've read, that's exactly what happened. It was right that you avoided the newspapers. You had enough of your own craziness. The four pages Dr. Chilton gave you were nothing but violence. One story worse than the next. A mother threw her child out of a window. A teacher was raped and left for dead in a dumpster. A jewelry store was robbed and the owner was shot. A couple blew up a furniture warehouse, dying in the blast. That wasn't news. That was madness.

“Why?” Dr. Chilton asked.

“Because this is some kind of madness.”

“But why? It's just a newspaper.”

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped.

“Not at all,” Dr. Chilton replied, taking a sip of water from the glass.

“Have you even read that crap?”

For some reason, he chuckled. Then he looked at you as if he'd won some kind of prize and couldn't wait to share it with you.

“Have you read it?” you repeated.

“I wrote it.”

There was silence. You didn’t have a wall clock, so even the ticking didn’t break the silence.

“What?” you asked finally.

“We made it for experimental purposes. The whole thing is fiction. At least for one particular day.”

“I’m actually sick,” you protested. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were feeling much better,” Dr. Chilton retorted.

You came to me at my weakest moment and slipped me your experimental newspaper. You should be very ashamed of yourself, Dr. Chilton. I will remember this.

“Already much worse, thank you.”

Dr. Chilton fished a box of expensive chocolates out of his briefcase, and you rolled your eyes.

“And what is the point of all this?” you asked.

“Yesterday this newspaper was given to all our criminal patients to read. Not one of them thought it was crazy. Not one of them suggested that they were trying to drive crazy. Or that the world in which such news came had already come to an end. Not one of them thought it was madness.”

This is some kind of nonsense.

You looked at Dr. Chilton as if he was talking complete bullshit. He put the box on the table.

“Not one of them,” he repeated, as if you hadn't understood the first time.

This can't be.

“They're just playing with you,” you said. “They do what you expect from them.:

They.

“Maybe. But you,” he took the newspaper and tore off a strip from the bottom, not printed with text, “are still a different case.”

Oh, seriously?

He took out a pen and wrote something on the scrap of newspaper. Then he folded it in four and put it on the table, between the pill and the chocolates.

“Don’t do that again,” you said.

“I won’t,” Dr. Chilton promised, but you didn’t quite believe him. “Get well. And get a good night’s sleep.”

“It will be done,” you said.

He said goodbye and left, although he didn’t want to say goodbye or leave. Your door, unlike Dr. Chilton’s, closed by lifting the doorknob, which he did. Hearing the familiar click, you calmed down. You were alone again, alone with your weakness.

Weaknesses.

You unfolded the newspaper strip.

7. A Sense of Normality

You sighed, took a pill, pulled the blanket over your head, hiding from the cold, from the boxes standing by the wall and looking at you reproachfully, from the chocolates, either a consolation prize for reading the newspaper, or a thoughtful present, from the assertions of Dr. Chilton, who for some reason time and again found in you what you asked for — what you were no longer able to find yourself; from the whole world. He was right — you need a good night's sleep. He was right — there is something normal in you after all. You should be happy.

But after that newspaper, you didn't want to wake up.

Because every “normal” thing found in you was like it was taken away from your criminal.

Dr. Chilton watched your face carefully as you read the fabricated newspaper. And he saw exactly what he wanted to see. What he was sure of. What he hadn't seen on any of the faces in the hospital yesterday, during their little experiment, already filed away and turned into statistics. None of that stuff in the newspaper was normal for you. Especially not in such concentrations. You were normal. Unlike... You knew who. Dr. Chilton knew you knew. You'd passed the test. You looked tired. He hoped you'd get some sleep and feel better. That pill was very effective. He knew that not from the online reviews.

If Dr. Chilton's traumas, some of which had made him the way he appeared to others, weren't enough to give him nightmares every night, his work in a mental institution for especially dangerous criminals made the missing contribution. He may have been a pompous psychiatrist with a sense of his own importance and power over the murderers imprisoned in his abode, but he was also an ordinary man who was confronted every day with the irrational evil and cruelty imprisoned in his murderers. And that confrontation could not help but leave its mark. Dr. Chilton periodically fought off unpleasant dreams with self-prescribed pills, some of which turned his dreams into dark, incoherent fragments, while others erased them altogether. After the book presentation, which ended with the study of an antique French fireplace, Dr. Chilton slept without pills for the first time, and without nightmares. And to this day, the number of capsules in the blister has not decreased by a single one. Incomprehensibly, but it was as if you drove out of his subconscious a part of the darkness that used to snuggling up to him under the covers, lurking under the pillow, pouncing on him when he least expected it, and as if you took its place. You didn't snuggle, didn't lurk, didn't pounce — it's just that at some point he realized that you were almost always with him. Somewhere where no one had been for a very long time.

Where before there was only loneliness.

Next chapter (Chapter 55)

Masterlist

[deermouth]

I've had a couple conversations recently—both within and outside of the context of my own care—with psychiatrists regarding anxiolytics—the prescription of benzodiazepines more specifically. Of course, my interest in and analysis of "psychiatry" as an institution and "mental illness," "trauma," "neurodevelopmental disorders" etc. are much different as a patient/survivor than that of many psychiatrists. I find that they frequently (and unsurprisingly) wield supposed concerns about dependence and long-term cognitive effects as cover for some incredibly nasty opinions about "drug seekers." They tell me "we want to make sure we've explored every option, so we'll start with some of the slower-acting long-term medications first" and I nod, because disagreement is not an option in these conversations.

Now, I myself am on a 3 anxiolytic cocktail at the moment (the third courteously added—a sparing number! the implication that if I use them too often they will not be resupplied!—by a Kind And Understanding new psychiatrist). I am Exploring All My Options. But to both the kindly psychiatrists, and the ones who don't feel the need to use kindness as a tool, I pose a question:

Have you ever inhabited the realm of bodily terror for a significant period of time? We are not talking worry or stress. We are not even talking persistently anxious thought patterns. These, of course, are present—pretend, with me, that you are Sick, or Traumatized, or Sensitive, or Hysterical. But you, in this thought experiment, have passed beyond mere disordered conscious thought. You have entered the nightmare of embodiment.

Escape from the realm is not possible—terror as the ultimate anti-dissociative. Every muscle is a live wire, a suspension cable at its breaking point. No breath is enough, no matter how measured. As you sweat, and tremble, and your heart rate spikes, you rationalize the ache in your chest, tell yourself, in a measured inner voice, that you are not having a heart attack. But the words "heart attack" themselves suck you up into a blind funnel of terror. This vortex, glaring white-hot, may last only seconds—if you're lucky. But the more frequently it happens—this total dissolution of self into the radiant maelstrom of a scream that this (what is this? a walk to work? a coffee order? a drive on the freeway? no reason to be found here) must end now or you will surely die—the more your body learns to fear it. Days of this. The scream where you cease to be happens more and more frequently, in between the more drawn-out tension you can just about bear. You function, outwardly (or maybe you don't—but you, in this thought experiment, are a capable medical professional, so I'll throw you a bone), because the idea of what your life would look like if you conceded, withdrew, became Intractably Ill—this too is a catalyst for that obliterative terror. Maybe you are lucky enough to still be able to sleep. But even then, this nameless thing will not release you—days, weeks, of this mortal terror that will not dignify itself with an obvious cause—is the first to caress you on waking.

So you do the right thing. You go to your doctor. You ask, hedging, smiling at your own ignorance, playing the good patient, for a small amount of something that can pull you out of the vortex, reassure the small screaming thing in you that it is a person and not raw and bleeding meat in the jaws of the wolf. And your doctor says "Well, I won't prescribe those, not to someone I've never seen before, not to someone with... your history. Let's start on these other meds—they're longer acting, so you should notice the effects within 2-4 weeks."

You are an animal caught in a trap. The kindly naturalist, who in this analogy has learned your animal language, assures you he'll be there in 2-4 weeks to remove the thing from your leg, and bandage it, and teach you how to avoid traps in the future. What do you do?

[a-wilson-collector]

I LIVED BITCH

(cw: noncon/rape, guns, disregard for gun safety, family abuse, forced isolation, medical neglect)

wanted to save this post for until i got to a safe place, but now that i am, i can give y'all a reason why i didn't post much if at all.

its mostly because of my family.

on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the worst, 1 being the best) my mom and dad are 10, most of my dad's side of the family is like, 9.5 outside of grandma n pa. they are like an 8 or 7 depending on how pissy/petty i feel about them. my brother is like, 4. and my sister is the only one whose normal about everything so she's a 1.

the reason my mom n dad are so highly rated is because my mom would lowkey ghost me for the entire summer when school stopped, and my dad is, well, according to mom- "he never takes no as an answer."

makes me think about why i always gravitated towards noncon fanfics for wilson/maxwell. Im still working on that.

grandma n pa are 8 because my grandma defends my dad (and pretty much any violent male member of the family) and my grandpa WAVED A FUCKING LOADED GUN IN MY FACE on the day of the move. if his hand was NOT on the trigger, he could've shot me in any part of my body including my head

my brother is a 4 because he hasn't apologized for beating the shit out of me almost every day until i was 16, but he's gotten a lot better at controlling his anger.

my sister was the only one who realized that the only way she was going to stay in my life was being cautious, but also realizing why i wanted out so bad, since she went through most of this herself.

outside of that, i hid most of my art from my family because i could NOT handle the disappointment that my family would show if that their "adorable daughter" drew a guy ripping his face off, or drawing porn (tho that wasnt until years later, obviously.) thats why most of my art is violent or violent in nature. its what i grew up in. constant fights all the time. cps was called a few times but they didnt do anything outside of adding to the trauma pile

im tired and finally in a safe environment where i wont be threatened to be shipped off my dad's place, which, if that was to happen... I'd lose all of my support network, including doctors and psychiatrists. I'd be completely shut off from the outside world, including my boyfriend and friends on discord. in his mind, the internet is the reason i have such high needs, instead of, y'know, THE 'TISM.

as for my past, i have gone by "noonfish" or some variation of that on tumblr, but that was while i was stuck somewhere in the alt-right rabbit hole on yt since most of my family loves trump, which is why i nuked all of them. I am deeply ashamed of my past and i'm still working on it, i know i can be better tomorrow than i was today. If i had a nickel for every time my grandma defended a rapist, I'd have three nickels, which isnt a lot but its weird it happened with three people.

i understand if people also stop following for my previous "ties" to the alt right (i was pretty surface level, mainly memes), however i was like, what, 16? and extremely isolated to boot. Thank fuck i got anti-psychotics. i was losing my mind for YEARS due to undiagnosed schizo-affective disorder, which was in play since i was 8. I still remember the time i missed my bus going home from school in elementary school, and when my mom had me in the car, she drove into a parking space and proceeded to yell at me to stop telling the teachers because "i was scaring them" because i kept seeing shadow people in the hallways. all the doctors just assumed I was being racist or something? im not sure about that but the only thing that came out of that was me getting glasses (which, tbh i did in fact, need)

after that, it went lowkey until middle/high school, where it resurfaced again and will continue until i fucking die, so thats fun. if I didn't have schizo-affective disorder, i probably still would've fallen for the alt-right pipeline on yt when i was a child (because of unsupervised access to the internet), but at least i'd be able to make a coherent statement about it. i still hate all those people that helped make my mental illness worse to the point i thought only ohio existed for like, 6 months. shit was awful.

so yeah, thats why i've been so on n off. hope to get some art soon since its about time i should do a full render. maybe it will be two girls kissing.

[lastlycoris]

Katherine and Matthew are going to kill someone if they haven't already.

I had a patient with schizophrenia coming in for "psychotic episodes". He's been in prison for ten years now, being treated for six.

And the first things I see is the patient puckering his lips and the inside of his mouth bulging as if his tongue is pressing against the inner cheek. His left fingers and arm move rhythmically, wiggling, but he does not seem to notice or care.

He speaks with a negative affect, and I notice his tongue twisting in his mouth as if out of his control. It hampers his speaking some. Alarm bells are ringing in my head now. But I ask him if there's a problem or a sore in his mouth after constantly seeing him use his tongue to bulge out his cheek repeatedly.

The man immediately stands up and starts yelling. Security starts to restrain him from leaning forward at me. He yells that he keeps telling everyone that all the tongue and lip and arm stuff are outside his control - as if a demon is controlling them. And he tells them he doesn't want to take his meds anymore cause he's sure they're causing his problems, but they keep making him take them. And when he gets angry that no one's listening, people accuse him of having a psychotic break like now. He breathes heavily, staring at me, but he's noticably calmer.

I ask security to stand down. He sits down in his seat grumpily, cuffs rattling.

I take him through his med list and immediately raise an eyebrow.

He's on four separate antipsychotics. High doses of them too. Risperidol, Arpiprazole, Olanzapine, Chlopramazine. I don't have his prior medical notes available because our EMR broke down today due to our Windows ME-level technology, so I ask him why he's on so many meds.

He reiterates that doctors here don't listen. Yeah, he has schizophrenia. He sees things. He hears things. But he's never had something controlling his body before, and it scares him, and he knows it's not his schizophrenia, but people insist it's his schizophrenia. And so everyone keeps adding to his medications he has to take when he complains about the weird involuntary movements, but it feels like it's getting worse. And when he absolutely refused to take any more, they restrained him in the name of public safety and forcibly gave him a drug cocktail that left him in a mental fog for days.

That's the moment I realized how fucked up thr situation is.

The "demons controlling the man's limbs?". That's not him being crazy or faking things.

He's suffering from Tardive Dyskinesia, a side effect from long-term anti-psychotic use. Probably made significantly worse by them adding more antipsychotic drugs that can cause it. The involuntary motions - lip-smacking, tongue rolling, chorea-like limb movements - are all classic signs. And what's worse is that this has been going on for close to several years, so this could very well be permanent.

The "treatment" for tardive dyskinesia is to discontinue the medicine. But you don't suddenly discontinue a patient off an antipsychotic or in this case multiple of them. You need to taper the patient off, but I don't have any of that expertise, especially when the guy is on four different antipsychotics.

I was genuinely pissed off the moment everything clicked. But with as much composure I could muster, I looked him in the eyes and told the guy that I think he's on too many meds right now, and I'm going to request that the state provides an actual board-certified pyschiatrist.

And that he will be seen by one today - or at the very most tomorrow. And if it doesn't happen, I am going to raise hell.

I think he and the guards were a bit shocked. In hindsight, I was too. But I think the gross incomptence of this correctional facility had hit my final fucking nerve.

I do suspect this guy may be purging himself whenever he takes the antipsychotics because with that high of four separate drugs, he should be catatonic. But I'm not a psychiatrist. Neither is the person "taking care" of my patient either - but he still has the audacity to prescribe all those psych meds without knowing what they actually do.

What gall! What hubris!

I wish I had the confidence to be that stupid!

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

Just realized I didn’t update on here, so....I have an announcement for y’all.

We’re officially diagnosed with D.I.D., on paper.

We’re having to switch therapists (they’re going to a new clinic 😭), so we got to know what all is dx. Our therapist went over it like ‘this is diagnosed, ¿what do you want them to know about this? ¿what do you still need help with?’. Obviously some of it we knew; they told us ADHD & bipolar were both on there, & PTSD. Those are necessary for our meds.

But they’ve now added on “unspecified anxiety disorder”* (not surprised) & D.I.D. - it’s official.

(* I’m pretty sure, now that the PTSD is medicated, that it’s social anxiety disorder. If I understand the diagnoses correctly. It’s that or generalised/GAD.)

We were medically recognised/confirmed by our first therapist, our second therapist, & our psychiatrist. (We’re now moving to our third therapist (same psychiatrist).)

We knew we were right. But wow is it different to hear/see it diagnosed.

So...yeah. It’s now officially, medically diagnosed. We have the certification from our psychological team. We’re recognised & diagnosed with plurality/D.I.D. now.

I’ve still been processing. We found out 2 weeks ago. But...holy shit. It’s real. It’s on paper now 😅.

(I know I keep repeating myself, I’m still a bit in shock that we actually got it on paper. It usually takes up to 15 years...but we’re now at year 2 of therapy & got a good team, so we’re recognised and getting the help we need.)

~Nico💜

[razrrgames]

tomorrow is the 7th anniversary of when i first released after the bell.

a lot has happened in the past 7 years.

i have/had an entire update planned, i wanted to rebuild the game from the ground up, especially since porting it to the steam version of 2003 fucked up the fade transitions.

but i never did.

i’ve tried starting many times, and failed every time.

i don’t think i’ve talked about it here, but im very open about this: i have ADHD and autism. the ADHD is what applies the most here.

the ADHD prevents me from doing what i want, and the RSD makes me overcomplicate things.

back when i made ATB, i was in a hyper focus state on RPGMaker. i had four ongoing projects at once: after i finished the first version of ATB, i was drafting the update, file:blue was added during a horror game jam, riitami, and one other project i literally cannot even remember the name of off the top of my head. i focused hard on these projects, mainly riitami, and then the novelty wore off. this is one of the worst parts of my ADHD. i get really into doing something for a short burst and then i get bored and can’t force myself to do it anymore.

i felt horrible for so long. why can’t i just DO things like everyone else? i need to remake ATB, i need to fix it, i need to take out the stair scene because it was in poor taste, i need to expand on the lore so i stop seeing people asking why ghosts can’t just go through the wall, i need to expand on these characters, etc etc etc. and i just couldn’t do it. i forced myself to come up with a logistical reason for not passing through walls, i rewrote and scrapped and rewrote and scrapped over and over again.

don’t get me wrong. i still do want to update after the bell. i want to remake it. i want to make it better. better maps, better art, better jokes, better characters, etc. but i can’t give you an estimate on when that will happen.

as for the lore of the game,,, i don’t want to put any more thought into it.

i didn’t go into that project with a real plot or world in mind. i just drew a little ghost girl and decided i wanted to make a game about her. then i made her a girlfriend and some classmates. i thought of a very simple fetch quest: getting her name. that’s all it was. nothing more, nothing less.

that said, i have new answers to things.

why can’t she go through walls?

who cares? i’m not gonna make transition events on every wall tile just to satisfy some people who can’t put their suspension of disbelief on hold for a silly ten minute game.

why are all these girls dead?

i don’t know. i just thought one character would be too lonely, so i added some more. i thought more ghosts would be better than filling the space with living characters and then dealing with whatever allows them to communicate.

and there was one person that once said in a comment that it was weird that protag’s parents had the same last name. that has always been a strange thought to me. they’re married? one took the other’s last name?

i don’t really know what i’m rambling about at this point.

in the past seven years (in no particular order), i have moved out, got my drivers license, lost my job, got another job, was ghosted out of that job, gotten a new job that destroyed my soul, fell into a deep depression at the start of the lockdown, went back to the soul crushing job once it resumed, fell out with my roommate, moved back in with my parents, quit my old job and got another job that i now love, adopted a hamster, had her until she passed away earlier this year from health complications, made friends, lost friends, started and ended therapy, got a psychiatrist, got on anxiety medication, started (trying) ADHD meds, started dating my girlfriend, saw her in person twice, was briefly hospitalized to get my first surgery (gall bladder removal), had ANOTHER surgery (septoplasty + removing polyps), went to new york to meet old friends twice, went thru multiple medications trying to find something to help me sleep at night, came out to my mother as a lesbian (she still does not know my gender identity), met some of the people who would become some of the most important people in my life, cried over dnd (positive), started writing stories again, tabled at a lot of conventions…

it’s been a long and wild road. and in those seven years, i have thought about the ATB cast. i know the game got a little traction when it was first released, and i’m a little shocked that it seems to get a lot more attention in spanish speaking communities! that’s a lil crazy to me! not in a bad way of course. i think that’s really cool. sharing our creations and experiences across different language communities is one of the coolest things in the world.

i’ve seen praise and criticism that have helped me think about my work as an artist, and some that have hindered me a bit. nevertheless, i’ve grown a lot since then. at least i hope so.

im rambling about a lot of things. sorry. my train of thought is more like a spaghetti junction, lol

at the end of the day, these silly little ghost girls were my first real journey into RPGmaker. i’d loved playing games for a long time and had made one shoddy little thing before, but ATB was my first real release. i’ve thought about these girls a lot. i don’t think too hard about their world, the lore doesn’t really matter to me; it was just a silly little game i made with no real forethought.

one day i will deliver that remake to you. i don’t know when. i love these characters, simple as they are, and i want to do right by them. im even thinking of asking for help, as i clearly have a lot of trouble moving forward; help with setting up maps and transitions is the most important thing, as i’m not very good at layouts or mapping, but i can handle all the artwork and writing dialogue myself. i also want to commission someone for custom music, as the original music used in the game was generated via online programs because i am also, shockingly (/sarcasm), terrible at music composition. or more like i have no experience with it. i’m tone deaf as all hell.

that is not financially viable for me right now, unfortunately (i owe my parents like $800 for insurance + some assistance from when bebbie passed away) and i do not want to just. not pay people for their work. as an artist i understand the value of the work that goes into these things, and i’m not about to run around asking for free help with a silly little ghost game. i want to be able to pay my help appropriately for their time and effort. that said, if you’d be interested in helping out when that time comes (paid of course, i can’t tell you when that’ll be bc as much as i love my job i don’t make a lot of money) please let me know.

i should bring this rambling to a close.

thank you for seven years of silly ghost girls. it’s been a long time, but i hope that these girls pop into your thoughts from time to time to say hello, as they do for me. i want to do them better, even if they are just a couple of silly middle school lesbian ghosts.

thank you for your patience and support. i’m sorry i haven’t lived up to be the person or developer that i wanted to be. i’m sorry i failed to bring you something to play so many times and for so long. i hope you can forgive me.

thank you, thank you, thank you.

[nearaceln]

The medication that my psychiatrist recently started me on, meant to aid in my depression, has caused my chronic insomnia to worsen to such an abhorrent degree that I find myself missing the former 4-5 hours I was getting on the prior medication meant to help the depression. The night shifts I work at my job probably don’t help much, either, in the soft defense of pharmacological distributors.

It is an odd sensation- waiting for a pager to go off, hoping it doesn’t. They don’t warn you that once you start, you will hear phantom pages for the rest of your goddamn life (seemingly; will correct if I ever stop hearing beeping that is not real).

I love my job. Well, I love my field, and I love what I do. The fact that my job has to exist is a cruelty. Peoples suffering could never make me happy (okay, perhaps a select few of those who have hurt me deeply. But those suckers have it coming and are unrelated to the folks I help treat).

Tonight a young-sounding 19 year old called. She was tearful, sniffling back something she didn’t want to (but also did want to) talk about. I won’t explore the content of her story, as it isn’t mine to tell, but I can say that the way I have learned to handle these calls is to tell the audience the things I wish someone would have told me, in this case, at 19. “It isn’t your fault. You did not deserve that. Not any of it. You sound bright, and kind, and even if you aren’t always, you still don’t deserve that. You are a person deserving of respect, kindness, goodness. I know we forget it sometimes about ourselves, but for a moment imagine you’re speaking to a friend. Would you tell them they didn’t deserve goodness? No. Of course not. Because it isn’t true. I am so sorry that those things have happened to you. It is not, however, a reflection on you. You’re here in spite of that. That is a power. It is a strength.” She asked “how do I fix it so I can sleep tonight?” And I rattled off some ideas like journaling things that make her happy. I added, knowing 19 year old me would think “this is bullshit”- “I don’t mean some cliche shit about your life, the world, or the future. You can write about that if you want. It’s your list. I mean…the sheets you picked for your bed. The way the first bite of an apple tastes in the fall. The sunset. The smell of coffee. The feeling of finally getting to take your bra off. Your makeup off. The view at the top of a hike. Your dog. Your favorite nail polish shade. Your favorite socks. Words you like the sound of. The meal your mum cooked the best. Your grandmothers hands. That stuff.” She conceded, and wrote some of a list that she planned on finishing. Before I let her go, I reminded her “you are only 19. You have not even yet met everyone who is going to love you - your kindness. Your heart. Your intellect. Your drive. There are so many people out there who will listen to your story and care about it. And the things that happened, they don’t define you. Your strength in calling tonight, does. Your willingness to be vulnerable, to stay alive, to write a list with a crazy lady on the phone. That’s you. And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s wonderful. So, while the world waits for the right moment for these people to arrive, you remember to call this line whenever you want. Seriously. I can be your temporary. And it won’t bother me for one single second. You’re not alone. I won’t let you be.” She ended the call by thanking me for my time and kindness, said she was feeling better, and that she was going to try to get some sleep.

As I hung up my phone I thought of the version of myself from a decade ago. She was so lonely. She lived in a one bedroom flat, had no friends, studied and worked, kept her head down. She would never believe that a future version of her could be anything different. And yet, here she is. Rather, here I am. Awake with crippling insomnia, still lonely at times, always keeping my chin up toward the sun.

I think of the home that I have built. I hear my husband snoring, finally resting. I look over at him. His mouth open slightly, brows furrowed, hair messy, one arm beneath his head and the other outstretched. He looks, in this moment, like I imagine he did as a young boy. I wonder what he needed to hear when he was; who didn’t say it to him; who did.

I have many dogs. Eight, to be exact. Having this amount of them means that at any given moment in my life I could easily reach out and Pat a dog. What a therapy I have unconsciously given myself. They sleep soundly beside me, so used to my insomnia that they only stir when my husband wakes up. Pavlov must have been right - my mental illness has conditioned not one, but a pack of dogs to not even notice the weight of a body being lifted off the bed, the sound of a door opening, the start of a car. I think of the life I have given them, and I know they have felt nothing but kindness. That alone seems intangible to me. A child of abuse grows to be an adult filled with enough trauma to make sleep a concept only read about, never experienced. An adult who worries at every moment when something will break; who hopes it is not her. An adult who knows how to hand out both cruelty and kindness equally well. Skilled tongue in both causing injury and kissing wounds. I choose kindness. Perhaps, just to be the opposite of my parents. Isn’t that what we all grow up wanting to be- just not our parents? Or perhaps because I know what it feels like to only be offered cruelty, and how small acts of kindness are but a candy you find hidden in your grandmothers purse after being told you cannot eat anything but cauliflower (By the way, I still hate cauliflower, mum). How you can suck on it for hours. While it doesn’t ease the belly cramps, it warms you. It keeps you alive for another day, hoping for another strawberry wrapped gift tomorrow.

I go pee, and I look in the mirror. I usually avoid this. My own reflection bothers me. I try to conjure the 19 year old me to tell her precisely what I told the girl from before. She doesn’t arrive. She died long ago. She resides in ashes throughout my bloodstream. Perhaps we are all made up of the versions of ourselves that could not survive.

The sun is coming up now. I look out the window of my home. Pet my dog (one of eight). Brush my fingers along my husbands forehead, try to comfort him from whatever nightmare is plaguing him. Admire him and the life we’ve built. My chin tilts toward the rising Sun. I have survived another night, and will survive another day, and I will once again choose kindness. If not for those in my life now, for the little girl residing in my veins who never had the chance to receive it.

-Ace