#body focused repetitive behaviour

[aftonsparv-bugzz]

this disability pride month, include anosmics and ageusics.

this disability pride month, stop using the s slur, saying "delulu" "delusional" "deluled" ect when you disagree with someone, stop using "sch*zoposting" and just overall treat schizospecs better.

this disability pride month, stop saying "psychopath" "sociopath" and "narcissistic".

this disability pride month, be kinder to people who hallucinate and experience delusions.

this disability pride month, stop stupidifying those who have trouble with "basic skills", people with learning disabilities, ect.

this disability pride month, stop villanising cluster b's.

this disability pride month, stop saying youre such a "pyromaniac" for lighting something on fire or saying youre "a kelpto" because you stole something.

this disability pride month, stop fakeclaiming did/osdd systems.

this disability pride month, stop saying "im so ocd" after cleaning something up.

this disability pride month, stop being rude and impatient with people with intellectual disabilities.

this disability pride month, stop infantilising non verbal people.

this disability pride month, stop treating autism and adhd as the cutesy disorders.

this disability pride month, stop excusing yourself by lying that youhave adhd when youdont. people need those recourses, youdo not get to take them away.

this disability pride month, normalise people with little to no empathy.

this disability pride month, stop using "attention seekers" (especially on your fellow hpds and npds).

this disability pride month, stop reality checking those who dont consent to it.

this disability pride month, stop bullying those who "smell bad" or "look weird" or whatever. (you never know what someones going through)

this disability pride month, stop giving weird looks to those who have bald spots, or cant stop picking their nose, or cracking their knuckles or whatever. (this is mainly focused on bfrbs)

this disability pride month, stop saying "everyone has anxiety" to those with anxiety/panic disorders.

this disability pride month, be normal about zoocanthropes/lycanthropes.

this disability pride month, treat those with personality disorders like youwould any other person.

this disability pride month, just stop bullying little people. just acknowledge people with dwarfism.

this disability pride month, dont stare at that mobility aid user so much. eyes off of them, they dont need to be in the spotlight for a physical disability. (unless they want to xoD /silly)

this disability pride month, stop judging those with facial/body deformities

this disability pride month, be normal about those with physical disabilities, and stop silently judging them.

this disability pride month, stop saying "pride month 2" or "wrath month". we dont even acknowledge disability pride month at all.

this disability pride month, stop differentiating "queer pride month" and "disability pride month" as "pride month" and "disability pride month". they are both pride months so call them by their full names.

this disability pride month, acknowledge not all disabilities are visible.

this disability pride month, give up your seat to someone who needs it.

this disability pride month, actually treat disabled people with rights and respect.

disabled people are people to. you failing to acknowledge that is your abelism. treat us like youd treat any other normal human being. and maybe, just maybe, after this disability pride month, youcan start treating disabled folks like living beings of society and not like your little pity pets/scary monsters/silly cutesy babies.

[whump-or-whatever]

Non-verbal Anxiety/Stress Indicators

For all those whumpees who try to hide how they're feeling from others or might not even realize themselves what they're feeling.

Wringing hands

Tapping/shaking foot or leg

Rubbing hand along leg or arm

Fidgeting with sleeve/zipper/loose string/etc.

Body-focused repetitive behaviours (twirling hair, biting nails, picking at skin, etc.)

Pacing/rocking/inability to sit still

Tapping fingers

Touching/rubbing face

Holding on to a comforting item

Darting eyes

Positioning oneself with back to wall/facing door

Looking around for potential exists/sources of danger

Staring unseeingly into the distance

Trying to make oneself seem smaller (slouching, crossed arms, curling up, leaning on something, etc.)

Angling body away from others

Avoiding eye contact

Tense facial features (clenched jaw, furrowed brow, pursed lips etc.)

Stiff body and posture

Cold hands/chills

Clammy hands/sweating

Numbness in extremities/chest pain

Being unresponsive/unable to speak

Quick shallow breathing/difficulty getting a full breath

Paler than usual complexion

Feel free to add any others y'all can think of!

[dukeofthomas]

Jason Todd has BFRBs. Send tweet

[sideblogformentalhealtshit]

The most ??? experience is when you struggle your whole life with something you don't know the name of and nobody else does it and you feel all weird and outcast and Othered by it, and then you find out what it's called and start finding out about other people's experiences with it... only to find out that, compared to them, what you have is actually mild in comparison. So then it's like. You're too weird for "normal" people but too normal to feel like you really fit in&belong with the more "weird" ones.

[dorianbrightmusic]

don't get me wrong, i know scars are proof of healing and all that, but i still wish, sometimes, that when i see suggestive art/photos, especially in queer spaces, that i'd see folks with similar kinds of scarring to myself. not just the generic 'little white scratch somewhere'. not fetishised self-harm. just someone else who has stupidly, inexorably, taken out bits of their own skin, and seen them grow back darker, redder, with wrong textures and wrong shapes. little indentations and swathes of pockmarks.

like, one of the worst parts of dermatillomania is feeling completely untouchable because of some of the scars, especially on my lower abdomen and chest. (and also on the legs.) like, it'd be nice to see some kind of proof that scars – even these ugly, inexplicable ones – don't make us repulsive. i feel huge guilt for whoever i date in future who's gonna have to come face-to-face with the stupid things i've done to myself over the years. so it'd be nice to see something – especially in queer spaces, which often reject beauty norms anyway – that makes it possible for me not to feel so, so afraid of how my own skin's gonna look to someone else someday.

tl;dr i don't wanna feel like i'm only ever gonna be able to have a relationship if i keep everything south of the collar and north of the knees strictly hidden. i don't wanna feel like my ability to be perceived as decent-looking will expire if i bare any skin

[a-linearis]

to my fellow humans struggling with bfrbs (body focused repetitive behaviours):

you are not a monster, you are not disgusting or shameful, you are a person worthy of love and care and respect :)

About a week ago, I had one of the worst episodes of skin biting in months, I'm doing better now but I wanted to put some tips and reminders here!

I didn't know that there was terms for my behaviours until like a few months ago (even though this has been a thing since I was really young), since shame and stigma got in the way of anyone in my family actually doing any research/getting me help (i.e. i had to deal with it on my own :<)

[note: a lot of these are for dermatophagia/onychophagia since I can talk from personal experience, feel free to add your own advice!]

Water is a big thing that can be triggering, since it can reveal flaps of skin (when your skin absorbs the water and your skin goes wrinkly), so a lot of these revolve around water.

If the skin around your fingers is affected, go wash your hands immediately after an episode of the repetitive behaviour! Rinsing my mouth also helps sometimes.

go get yourself some (cheap) hand cream from your local drugstore. I always keep moisturiser on me to use after I was my hands/do the dishes/have a shower/anytime my hands feel dry

Wash the dishes with gloves/use a dishmatic/if you have a dishwasher and it doesn't cost too much to use you can use that

Try turning off the water in your shower whilst applying soap to your body. If showers are completely too triggering, flannels and deodorant (but at least try to shower if you've exercised/once every few days). Equally, washing your hands should be fine, but if not, then hand sanitiser (be careful of cuts though!)

I exfoliate around my fingers with brown sugar like once every two days if my fingers don't hurt, I'm not sure of the proven efficacy of it removing dead skin from the surface but it makes me feel good (it's a good replacement activity)

nail oils! jojoba oil is known to be good, but i used to use virgin olive oil because it's also good (and it was something I had at home). Right now I just use shea butter! just moisturise in any way possible!

There are some things that people say such as bitter nail solutions and gum, but I used to just chew right through those, so remember that there is no one solution that works for everyone (some of these won't help you, and that's fine)

Plasters tend to stop air from getting to small cuts on your fingers so try not to use those (they weren't very helpful for me, at least)

When your hands start healing, gloves can help, but the fabric tends to catch onto skin/nails so be careful with that (and when you're putting on clothes in general)

Nail polish/rings if you like them! You shouldn't feel like you have to wait until your fingers are better before you can look nice :)

Knitting/fiddling with rings/making sure your doing something with your hands can be useful sometimes, but it's totally understandable if you just start with one little piece of skin and you end up like completely wrecking your fingers (when you start, you often can't stop)

Be aware of possible triggers. it's very hard to do this since sometimes episodes come out of nowhere, but I know i'm more likely to start biting my skin after stressful events or during task paralysis/when my brain is "stuck" (the logic is that my brain can be "stuck" on something else instead of all these impending things i have to do but can't get myself to start doing)

Remind yourself how much your hands help you to experience the world around you - You write, read, use technology, make and eat food, play your favourite games, hug your friends and create with your hands! You owe it to yourself to keep them safe and healthy where possible. Be compassionate with yourself (it will often be in spite of the way others treat you - but we are all here for you!)

talking about it can always help too with removing guilt/shame (I am always down to talk) and reading other posts on the tags here can feel v validating (@bfrb-culture-is has been so so helpful in making me feel less alone!)

I do hope this is helpful, this post is as much for me as it is for anyone else that comes across it <3

Have a good day~

[gravitasmalfunction]

I understand that candles on cake are meant to lend a sense of festive occasion but consider instead singing a song: that way we are all embarrassed and awkward and afterwards we can eat a cake that doesn't taste like candle wax and soot.

There is a line from my autism assessment that lives rent free in my head where the assessor notes that in the down time between tasks I fiddled with my watch band and cited that as evidence of anxiety.

[greeneyedvamp]

Things that tend to help with my skin picking

None of these things are foolproof and I haven't yet stopped completely, but doing several consistently tends to reduce the amount of picking I do whenever I manage to stick with them long enough. Might edit occasionally with relevant observations.

Taking care of my mental wellbeing

This is something I've historically been terrible at, so it's more of an aspirational reminder for myself than a tip. I place it first as the most determining - none of the other ones will work unless I 1) don't need skin picking to cope and 2) have the emotional capacity to care about it. I tend to get extremely anxious about grades during academic semesters, and skin picking becomes an "affordable" method of procrastination, a calming ritual at the end of a stressful day and a way to focus when I read and write. So I need to find more fulfilling activities to do when I'm not studying and work on shifting my identity away from academic achievement. My (achievable) goals for next semester, based on previous experiences, are to: - keep a study planner and spread tasks across a week rather than trying to do everything within one day and as soon as possible - allocate a daily minimum for time to rest (which can involve established hobbies or doing nothing (see Jenny Odell)) - journal - divine whenever needed - meet different friends at least once a week regardless of how busy I am - drink herbal teas while I study to keep my mind calm and my hands occupied - go for walks to places I like or sit outside every other day - set less ambitious goals for uni art projects (and talk to a teacher about expectations and burnout prior to project brainstorm) - read fiction to expand my experience of the world

Multistep skincare kits

My mum got me a set of four ordered skincare products, and I've noticed that the desire to pick that often precedes or follows using a cleanser can be replaced with the desire to go through the steps one by one if I haven't been picking for a couple of hours prior to doing skincare.

Covering problematic areas with BB cream in the mornings

I think this is by far the most effective one for me. I can't as easily see redness and imperfections in the mirror from afar if they're covered with skin colour, so I'm not as compelled to come close, and I avoid touching my face when I don't see it if I'm scared of disturbing the uniformity. Doing this first thing in the morning after cleansing has allowed my face to heal completely on multiple occasions (except for pigmentation left behind), and my most devastating relapses happened when I either put it off or stopped doing it when my face was healed. It works as a preventative measure but can't make me stop once I've started. It also only works if applied only to the butterfly zone and forehead, because bb cream on my chin and temples feels disgusting and has the opposite effect.

Keeping my hair clean

When it gets greasy, I start to avoid looking at my reflection as a whole and instead focus in on small details, which, combined with a feeling of grossness, leads to me picking. I try to wash my hair more often to avoid this.

Treating my seborrheic dermatitis & eczema

Picking at my scalp and eczema often lead to damaging normal skin too, so getting rid of them has somewhat reduced the behaviour. Life also became a lot nicer when I stopped having to be ashamed of the very visible snowfall of dandruff that accompanied me, the habit of constantly picking at my itchy scalp, and of hairdressers seeing the scales and scabs.

Using a dim light source instead of ceiling lights

The first time I did this (using the light of a phone screen, before I moved to candles), I was surprised at how calm the experience was, as the anxiety associated with picking (that I didn't know I had) disappeared. Definitely works for this one time of day, but I might keep looking for a more comfortable light, because candles are intimidating.

Applying bold eye makeup

I've noticed that sometimes my picking is fuelled by the desire to frequently observe changes on my face; this becomes my reason to get up in the morning. Drawing bold black lines and experimenting with eye shadow fulfills this desire too, but in a much more fun and diverse way, and it provides an outlet for perfectionism - instead of seeking skin textures to fix, I can touch up on or change the makeup. I wouldn't be comfortable wearing it out in public, but it's fun to do at home. Unfortunately, I don't do it often enough for it to help in the long-term.

Fidget toy

I often pick to occupy my hands whenever I'm on my phone or reading a book. Carrying a fidget spinner with me at all times and taking it out whenever I open my kindle helps. My cat fears it though.

Asking my mum not to scold me

My picking was often aggravated by the fear of my mum getting mad at the sight of my face: I'd stay in the bathroom longer, waiting for the redness to subside and blood to clot, which would result in me going at it a second and third time; an aesthetician I went to also worsened the feeling of shame with comments. At some point I wrote a message to her explaining that she's not being helpful, and we agreed that I would make an effort and she would stop talking about it, although she can tell me to stop if I'm picking in her presence. I also asked to stop seeing the aesthetician and she let me. This slightly improved the state of my skin but significantly lifted the emotional burden

[radiomogai]

[PT: BFRB flags. end PT]

BFRB Flags

Note: For context regarding these flags, please click here.

BFRB Flag

BFRB: Body-focused repetitive behavior (BFRB) is a general term for a group of related disorders that includes hair pulling, skin picking, and nail biting and more. These behaviors are not habits or tics; rather, they are complex disorders that cause people to repeatedly touch their hair and body in ways that result in physical damage.

Trichotillomania Flag

Trichotillomania: causes people to pull out the hair from their scalp, eyelashes, eyebrows, and other parts of the body resulting in noticeable bald patches.

Dermatillomania Flag

Dermatillomania/Excoriation: causes people to repetitively touch, rub, scratch, pick at, or dig into their skin, resulting in skin discoloration, scarring, and even severe tissue damage 

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12 640

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mild body horror, fear gas, lowkey prey/predator kink (chasing), kidnapping

Summary: Y/n, a university student, forms an unexpected friendship with Professor Jonathan Crane. But are his intentions what he says they are?

A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies (Office Hours/Bells Masterlist) - (Part 2)

-

Y/n entered the psychology lecture hall, the familiar scent of old textbooks and the low hum of whispered conversations enveloping her as she took her usual seat near the front. The lecture hall was spacious, rows of worn-out seats filled with few students, as most dropped the class within the first week, due to the Professors harsh attitude. As she settled in, her eyes wandered to the front of the room, where Professor Crane's desk stood. He usually entered on the dot so it wasn’t strange to see his desk empty. 

The sound of the office door's wide swing echoed through the hall, Professor Crane walking in, his presence evoked a collective hush in the lecture room. As if choreographed, he navigated the room with an air of precision, placing his meticulously organized files and papers onto the desk.

Professor Crane wasted no time, setting the tone for the day's lesson. It became immediately apparent to every student that patience was not a virtue Professor Crane indulged in. The swift, deliberate motion of his hand grabbed a piece of chalk, and with a decisive sweep, he began writing the day's lesson on the board.

-

As the lesson drew to a close, marking the end of another lengthy lecture, Y/n found herself grappling with the weight of the information presented. Despite her best efforts to remain focused, the sheer volume of content in today's lesson proved to be a challenge for her to fully absorb. The struggle to grasp the concept left her feeling both mentally fatigued, yearning for a moment of rest.

“If there’s any trouble, my office hours are available for help,” Professor Crane finished, as the students left. 

Despite being aware of the option to attend Professor Crane's office hours, Y/n hesitated, daunted by the intimidating presence of the man. The memory of him calling on classmates during class, casually degrading them when they struggled to grasp concepts, lingered in her mind. The thought of engaging in a one-on-one conversation with him only stirred up anxiety. Opting against visiting Professor Crane's office, Y/n retreated to her dorm. 

-

Back in her dorm, Y/n sank into her desk chair, frustration evident on her face. The psychology book lay open before her, its pages a source of bewilderment. Despite her earnest attempts to comprehend the material covered in class, the concept continued to slip through her grasp. With a sigh of exasperation, she tossed her pen onto the desk, leaning back into her chair.

The struggle was real, and Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in a sea of incomprehension. Even reaching out to fellow classmates had proven futile, as they too found themselves in the dark. The weight of confusion hung heavy in the air, leaving Y/n grappling with the unsettling realization that she may have to push her anxieties away for help.

Glancing at her class calander she made at the beginning of the year, Y/n noticed that Professor Crane had office hours scheduled a couple of hours before tomorrows class. A moment of contemplation ensued, marked by the rhythmic bouncing of her leg. Eventually, she reasoned that giving it a shot couldn't hurt. After all, even if Professor Crane were to belittle her, at least there wouldn't be an audience to witness any potential humiliation.

-

The following morning, Y/n gathered her books and essentials, preparing for another day at the university. As she stepped onto the campus, her destination clear, she headed towards Professor Crane's office. Each step felt burdened, her legs heavy with nervousness that clung to her as she approached the looming encounter.

Standing in front of Professor Crane's office door, Y/n took a shaky breath before knocking. The response came swiftly, "Come in," in Professor Crane's authoritative voice.

Twisting the handle, she entered the room. Professor Crane, engrossed in some papers, looked up as she stepped in. Y/n found herself at a loss for words, her shyness momentarily stifling her thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Professor Crane inquired, "Can I help you with something?"

Caught off guard, Y/n stammered, "Uh, yes, sorry. I was, umm, trying to go over the things we learned yesterday, but I had trouble trying to grasp the concept. I was wondering if you could help me go over it?"

Jonathan regarded her for a moment before gesturing towards the seat opposite him, a silent invitation for her to sit. Y/n promptly took the seat, positioning herself across from him.

Y/n looked around the room, taking in the surroundings. Bookshelves adorned with a myriad of psychology titles graced the walls, that offer a visual journey through the expansive world of the mind. Disheveled piles of papers and folders, likely files from Arkham, added an air of mystery to the atmosphere. The walls were adorned with various academic accolades and framed degrees. The inviting couch, a standard feature in university offices, seemed strangely pristine and untouched.

"Do you have anything for me to look at? Anything specific?" Jonathan inquired, shifting his papers to make room for her.

Nodding, Y/n retrieved her textbook and a few of her own papers. As she handed them over, Professor Crane asked, "What part did you not understand?" The question, though genuine, had a way of making her feel a bit foolish, and a sudden warmth crept into her face.

"Well...I had trouble with the start of it so...I didn’t understand...any of it," Y/n admitted, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her words.

Avoiding eye contact with her professor, Y/n couldn't help but feel small in his presence. She felt like a complete idiot.

"Well..." Crane sighed, surprising Y/n with a comment that sounded unexpectedly friendly. "Looks like we got a lot of work ahead of us."

Despite the friendly remark, Y/n remained on edge. Professor Crane pulled the book closer, running his pen tip over the first couple of sentences. Reading them aloud, he delved into more depth, echoing the teaching style she was familiar with from his lectures.

Y/n clung to his words, processing and understanding the material more with each passing moment. Her notebook lay open beside her, writing brief notes that she intended to expand upon during her own time. To her surprise, Professor Crane exhibited an unexpected gentleness and patience, allowing her the space to ask questions and guiding her through the material at a measured pace.

In this one-on-one session, Y/n found herself gaining more information that surpassed what she could have achieved on her own. The personalized attention and the chance to delve deeper into the subject with Professor Crane were proving invaluable to her comprehension of the challenging concepts.

"Has that helped?" Professor Crane inquired, reclining in his chair.

"Yes, thank you. This makes so much sense now," Y/n replied, unable to contain her smile.

"Glad I could help," Professor Crane acknowledged. "Thanks for coming in; don't hesitate so much next time," he added.

Y/n couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by Professor Crane's kindness throughout the entire session. The encounter left her with a newfound appreciation for his approachability and willingness to assist.

Y/n finally looked up at him properly, meeting his gaze for the first time in that half-hour. She was taken aback, realizing the striking blue hue of his eyes, a detail she had never noticed before as she avoided looking at him in lectures, hoping he wouldn’t call on her.

Quickly averting her gaze, she began packing away all her materials. "Thank you again, sir," Y/n expressed, her smile lingering.

"Feel free to come back after today's lesson too if you're having trouble," he suggested, offering her a slight smile in return.

The unexpected kindness from Professor Crane left Y/n pleasantly surprised. "I will, sir. Thank you," she replied before leaving the office, carrying with her a newfound appreciation for the approachability and support she hadn't anticipated.

With a newfound sense of confidence, Y/n practically skipped her way to the library to finalize her notes. The weight that had initially clung to the prospect of talking to Professor Crane had lifted, and she discovered that he wasn't as intimidating as she had initially thought.

-

As class approached, Y/n felt a wave of optimism about the upcoming lesson, knowing she now had the option to seek more help later. The prospect of understanding the material became less daunting.

When Professor Crane entered the class, the usual hush fell over the room. Unfazed, he seamlessly resumed his routine, initiating the lesson with his familiar writing on the board. The air was charged with anticipation, and Y/n felt a renewed sense of readiness to tackle the subject matter with the newfound support at her disposal.

Not even 10 minutes into the class, Y/n watched as Professor Crane once again questioned a student's intelligence, a sharp contrast to the kindness she had experienced earlier. It caught her off guard — his demeanor seemed to shift dramatically when addressing individuals in front of the class. She wondered if he found enjoyment in embarrassing people publicly or if there was another motive behind his approach. Y/n instinctively shrank back into her seat, hoping not to be the next target.

-

As the lesson concluded, Y/n made a quick move toward the door, only to find herself intercepted by Professor Crane stepping in front of her.

"Understand today's lesson?" he inquired, hands clasped behind his back. His slight smile surprised her, considering the belittlement she had witnessed throughout the class.

"Yeah, I think I got it," Y/n responded quickly.

The Professor nodded. "Alright, just don't be scared to ask for help," he advised before strolling back to his office. Y/n stood there, grappling with the unexpected duality of Professor Crane's demeanor, thankful for the support she had received earlier but still perplexed by the contrasting experiences in the classroom.

-

Regrettably for Y/n, the intricacies of today's lesson eluded her, slipping through the gaps in her understanding during the last 10 minutes of class. Her meticulous note-taking proved insufficient, she clearly didn’t get the last part of the lesson. The idea of seeking help at Professor Crane's office hours lingered, but a sense of unease settled in after the day's earlier interactions.

The peculiar contrast in Professor Crane's treatment of her versus the rest of the class left Y/n feeling unsettled. Was he kinder to those who sought help, or was there a different dynamic at play? It remained uncertain, casting a shadow over the prospect of returning for assistance.

Yet, the urgency of understanding the material prevailed over any reservations. Realizing the potential consequences for future lessons, Y/n knew she would have to get help. Y/n considered asking another classmate again, but preferred the way in which Professor Crane was indepth and had more to offer. She acknowledged the necessity of visiting Professor Crane's office hours the next day, and it didn’t feel as daunting as it did the day before.

-

Approaching Professor Crane's office for the second time, Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before knocking on the door. 

"Come in," Professor Crane's voice called out.

Y/n opened the door, offering a tight-lipped smile as she entered. "Thought you'd come back," Professor Crane remarked, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Taking the now familiar seat across from him, Y/n observed as he pushed aside his work to focus on her. Placing her books on the table, she turned to the last page of the chapter, the faint rustle of paper filling the room.

"It was just the end bit that I kinda lost track of," Y/n admitted, her voice portraying a hint of uncertainty.

“This should be a lot quicker than yesterday, then,” the Professor smiled, joking lightly.

Leaning over the book, Professor Crane again took her through the paragraphs slowly, picking them apart one by one, making sure she understood each thing he said.

As she attempted to maintain focus, the alluring scent of Professor Crane's cologne began to weave its way into her senses, creating a subtle distraction. The close proximity, both of them leaning over the desk to study the book, allowed the fragrance to unfold in intricate layers. The cologne, not noticeable the day before or perhaps just more subdued, now revealed itself with greater prominence.

The scent was strong, but not unpleasant. The fragrance enveloping him carried a sophisticated blend of notes that gracefully danced in the air. A distinct combination of musky undertones and woody accents created an aura of timeless masculinity. As he moved, subtle hints of citrus and spice gently emerged, adding a layer of complexity to the scent. 

"Y/n? Did you get that?" Professor Crane's voice pulled her back to reality.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to refocus. "Oh, sorry, could you repeat that last part?" she squinted, her face warming with embarrassment.

Professor Crane patiently reiterated the information, ensuring she grasped it this time. Internally, Y/n chastised herself, questioning how she could be so easily distracted by a man's cologne.

"You want to write that down?" he suggested, studying her expression.

"It might take a while..." Y/n admitted, well aware of her heightened distraction today.

"That's fine; we have all the time in the world," Professor Crane assured, leaning back in his chair.

"But another student might need help," Y/n hesitated, considering the potential impact on others.

"That's not a problem. No one comes to office hours. Just you," Professor Crane revealed, a statement that slightly shocked Y/n. She had assumed his intimidating demeanor might keep some students away, but the revelation that she was the only one who sought assistance caught her off guard. "O-oh," she stammered in response.

Y/n focused on her notebook, diligently transcribing the information provided by Professor Crane. As she carefully jotted down the details he emphasized, she couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, a vulnerability that crept in unnoticed.

Glancing up, she caught Professor Crane looking directly at her. Despite the file in his hands, his gaze remained fixed on her. The realization left Y/n feeling a bit uneasy, unsure of why she suddenly felt so exposed under his scrutiny. Opting to dismiss the discomfort, she decided to concentrate on her writing, pushing the unease to the back of her mind and assuming it was just a fleeting moment of self-consciousness.

Having finished writing her notes, Y/n placed her pen down and looked back up at her professor. As he set his file aside, he directed his attention to her notebook. "Finished?" he inquired.

Y/n nodded in confirmation.

"Any more questions about yesterday's lesson?" Professor Crane asked.

She shook her head, indicating her understanding.

"Well, I suppose you're free to go then," Professor Crane remarked. Y/n began packing her belongings when, unexpectedly, he continued, "Unless... would you like me to teach you today's lesson?" The offer hung in the air, leaving Y/n momentarily surprised by the unexpected opportunity for additional guidance.

"But... office hours end in like half an hour," Y/n pointed at the clock, expressing her concern.

"They're my office hours; I can change them however I want," Professor Crane replied, his words softened by the friendly smile adorning his face.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time teaching me? I'll just hear it in a couple of hours anyway," Y/n expressed her uncertainty.

"I'd like to teach you; no one's more eager to learn than you are, my Dear. I insist," Professor Crane insisted, the endearment slipping into his words. Y/n almost missed it, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in her professor's tone. It was a side of him she hadn't anticipated, and the kindness he displayed left her pleasantly surprised.

Y/n sighed with a mix of relief and gratitude. "You're too kind, sir. Thank you," she expressed, recognizing this as a valuable opportunity to get ahead in the class.

"Don't need to thank me, Dear," Professor Crane replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he again tested the newfound name.

As she retrieved her books, Professor Crane opened them to the latest chapter. Patiently, he guided her through each part, allowing her the time she needed to take thorough notes. Engrossed in the material, Y/n's awareness was focused on the subject at hand, and she failed to notice Professor Crane's not so subtle staring for the second time.

Unbeknownst to her, he watched as her hair gracefully sat behind her ear and took note of the delicate way her fingers held the pen. The Professor's attentive gaze added an unexpected layer to the lesson, one that went beyond the academic content and into the realm of unspoken dynamics between student and teacher.

Y/n looked back up at Professor Crane, anticipation in her gaze as she awaited the next part of the lesson. As the professor spoke, Y/n found herself gazing up at him, absorbing only fragments of his words. Amid the intricate details of the lesson, her thoughts drifted to a deep appreciation for the professor and the invaluable assistance he was providing.

Glad she had returned to his office hours, Y/n reflected on the decision to have him teach her this lesson. The material was notably more information-heavy than previous lessons, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Without this one-on-one guidance, the complexity of the subject matter would have left her utterly lost in the classroom setting.

Professor Crane skillfully condensed what could have been a two-hour lesson into just over an hour. The efficiency of the session left Y/n feeling remarkably more confident in her understanding of Psychology.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude with a genuine smile.

"Don't have to keep thanking me, Dear. Just doing my job," Professor Crane replied, returning her smile with a warmth that surpassed the formalities of a typical teacher-student interaction.

Checking the clock, Y/n realized class would commence in 20 minutes. "I should head off to give you time to prepare," she suggested, preparing to rise from her seat.

Professor Crane, however, suggested otherwise. "You might as well just wait here. You won't get in the way."

Unsure, Y/n hesitated before asking, "You sure you don't want a break before teaching? You're probably tired of me."

"Not at all... I could use the company," he reassured, his smile indicating a genuine desire for her presence rather than any sense of obligation.

Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Feeling lonely?" she teased, a newfound comfort allowing her to engage in a more playful manner.

"You could say that," Professor Crane replied, meeting her teasing with a genuine smile.

Reclaiming her seat and settling in, Y/n sought to initiate a conversation. "So... not many students come to your office hours?" she inquired, curious about the dynamics of student-teacher interactions.

"None... you're the first to come," Professor Crane admitted.

"Oh..." Y/n's realization set in. When he mentioned earlier that no one attended, she assumed it might be an exaggeration. Now, it became evident that she was indeed the sole student seeking assistance during his office hours. 

Y/n had an realization; perhaps the reason Professor Crane treated her so nicely was that she was the only student attending his office hours. It occurred to her that he might genuinely appreciate her active approach to seeking help, recognizing her passion for the subject.

"I guess the other students are just too intimidated, or don't care," Professor Crane mused, his words carrying a subtle tone that hinted at his sentiments towards the rest of the students.

She sensed a certain disappointment in his words, an unspoken judgment on the other students who, for various reasons, didn't take advantage of the opportunity to seek additional guidance. The realization left Y/n feeling a mix of gratitude for the personalized attention she received and a touch of sympathy for the potential missed opportunities by her peers.

"Gee, you think very little of them, don't you?" Y/n quipped, her tone half-joking. It was her subtle way of delving into why Professor Crane sometimes treated the class so harshly.

She recognized that she might be overstepping, but a genuine curiosity about the man behind the professor prompted her to seek more insight.

"The class is full of imbeciles. They don't know a thing about psychology. The lot of them couldn't tell a psychopath from a sociopath," Crane vented, a hint of frustration in his words.

"Hey, they're not all idiots," Y/n tried to offer a more different perspective.

"You haven't read their papers," Crane rolled his eyes, a touch of exasperation evident in his response. The exchange revealed a layer of dissatisfaction with his students' grasp of the subject, providing Y/n with a glimpse into the source of his occasional sternness in class.

Though Y/n recognized the impossibility of psychoanalyzing her professor, curiosity had taken a firm hold, compelling her to want to understand more about the man behind the lectern. The enigma of Professor Crane's demeanor and his candid assessments of the students intrigued her, prompting a desire to unravel the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

"Well... what about my papers?" Y/n inquired, a mix of anticipation and curiosity evident in her expression. She was eager to hear how Professor Crane would describe her work.

His gaze intensified as he began, "It’s clear through your writing that you’re passionate about psychology. You beautifully discuss topics in a way that engages readers and sparks interest. Your ability to convey complex concepts with clarity and enthusiasm is truly commendable. It's evident that you not only possess a deep understanding of the subject matter but also a genuine passion for sharing that knowledge."

His words hung in the air, the intensity of his gaze holding a weight that went beyond mere academic assessment. Professor Crane's thoughtful analysis revealed not only an appreciation for Y/n's proficiency but also a recognition of the passion that fueled her exploration of psychology. It was a validation that made her feel proud of herself, creating a moment of mutual understanding and acknowledgment.

Y/n was taken aback, her eyes darting all around the room as her face warmed with disbelief. Praise of such magnitude was unfamiliar territory for her, and coming from Professor Crane, renowned for his exacting standards, it added an extra layer to her astonishment. "Gosh, my work couldn't have been that good, sir. You're too kind."

"You know I'm not kind just for the sake of it. I don't praise just any student's work, dear," Professor Crane responded, his expression serious, the weight of his words emphasizing the sincerity behind his commendation. The gravity of the moment lingered, leaving Y/n grappling with a mix of surprise and gratitude for the unexpected recognition of her efforts.

Y/n acknowledged that Professor Crane wasn't the type to dispense niceties without genuine merit, intensifying the authenticity of the moment. "I... I just don't know what to say," she confessed, her words laced with a mix of humility and gratitude.

"You don't have to say anything; just know that you're a brilliant student, and I'm glad to have you in my class," Professor Crane asserted, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped together.

"Thank you," Y/n replied with a genuine smile, the warmth of the professor's acknowledgment lingering.

He nodded politely, reciprocating the smile. "So, what would you be doing right now if you weren't here with me?" he asked, a subtle inquiry into her interests without directly posing the question.

Indulging the curiosity, Y/n shared, "Usually, I'd be back at my dorm studying or maybe out with friends."

"Are these of yours friends taking different courses? It's just that I never see you sitting with anyone in class that much," Professor Crane probed further, expressing unexpected interest in the dynamics of her social circle.

She hadn't anticipated his curiosity about her friends. "Yeah, most of them are taking things like English Literature, History, Biochem," Y/n answered, providing a glimpse into the diverse corses her friend were taking.

"I see... and are all of them…just friends?" Professor Crane asked, his gaze intense, as if searching for something beyond the words.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, a touch of confusion coloring her expression. "I'm not sure I understand the question," she admitted.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, taking the conversation into unexpected territory. It caught her off guard. Why was he interested? What prompted such a personal question? Despite her surprise, Y/n chose to keep the conversation flowing, steering clear of awkwardness. "No, I'm not," she answered. Professor Crane nodded, his focus unwavering.

Feeling a degree of boldness, Y/n decided to reciprocate, nervously asking, "How about you? Any wife or anything?" There was a hesitancy in her voice, a fear of overstepping.

"Nope... just me," Professor Crane replied, his tone casual yet offering little insight into his personal life.

Wanting to explore a topic outside the realm of teaching and relationships, Y/n sought a new avenue of conversation. "So you're also a Doctor at Arkham. What's that like?" she inquired.

Professor Crane sighed, a subtle chuckle escaping him. "Every day's a new challenge. I do enjoy my work there, but the patients can be a handful sometimes," he shared, offering a glimpse into the complexities of his dual roles as a professor and a practitioner at Arkham.

"From all the news, it sure sounds like a lot," Y/n remarked, sharing a laugh at the intriguing tales surrounding Arkham Asylum.

"You could come see it for yourself if you'd like. I can take you," Professor Crane offered, extending an unexpected invitation that caught Y/n off guard.

"W-wow, really?" Y/n's eyes widened with excitement. The prospect of exploring the infamous Arkham Asylum, even with it’s poor repetuation, was a dream come true.

"Of course, it would be a good learning experience," Professor Crane affirmed, his smirk hinting at a certain familiarity with the inner workings of the institution.

"Are you sure it's allowed?" Y/n inquired cautiously.

"I'm pretty high up in that place, so I can pull a couple of strings," he responded with a confident smirk, revealing a hint of his influence.

After a quick glace at the clock, Professor Crane rose from his seat. "People should be coming in right about now."

Looking at the time herself, Y/n gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. "We can talk more later about showing you Arkham if you'd like," Professor Crane suggested, holding the door open.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude, making her way to the door.

"Talk to you after class, then," he said, smiling at her before returning to his desk.

Walking out of his office, Y/n couldn't fathom the extraordinary opportunity that had just presented itself, and the thought that such an experience might await her left her both thrilled and intrigued.

-

The class came to a close, and Y/n eagerly approached Professor Crane, who had already neatly packed his things, a shared smile bridging the distance between them. 

"Let's talk about Arkham, then," Professor Crane suggested, leading the way to his office, Y/n following in tow.

"Do you have any lectures tomorrow?" Professor Crane inquired, his voice carrying an air of anticipation.

"Not tomorrow, no," Y/n responded.

"Then that sounds like the perfect time for me to take you," Professor Crane declared, a warm smile playing on his lips.

The reality of the situation began to sink in for Y/n. It was happening — the chance to explore the mysterious Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane as her guide. The thrill of the unexpected adventure filled her with a sense of wonder and disbelief.

"Oh my god, thank you so much, sir. This means so much to me," Y/n exclaimed, genuine gratitude painting her expression.

"You deserve it," Professor Crane replied, his assurance carrying a sense of sincerity.

"So umm... how will we go about this?" Y/n asked, eager to plan the logistics of the upcoming adventure.

"I'm assuming you stay at the university dorms?" Professor Crane inquired.

"I am, yes," Y/n confirmed.

"I suppose it would be easiest for me to pick you up from there. I can come get you at 8, if that works for you," Professor Crane suggested, offering a practical solution.

"Of course," Y/n agreed, the excitement bubbling within her, the prospect of exploring Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane creating a sense of giddiness that was hard to contain.

"Perfect," Professor Crane remarked. "Now, I should let you get back to your dorm and get a good rest; tomorrow's gonna be a big day for you," he added with a confident smirk.

Y/n chuckled in agreement. "I could imagine. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

Professor Crane nodded politely as she exited his office. Y/n practically floated back to her dorm, the anticipation building within her. Following his advice, she decided to rest for the remainder of the day. The excitement of visiting Arkham Asylum, coupled with the mysterious allure of the institution, fueled her imagination.

As night fell, sleep proved elusive for Y/n. Her mind buzzed with anticipation and curiosity about the impending visit. What would she discover within the walls of Arkham? The prospect of the unknown, guided by Professor Crane, fueled her restless excitement, and she could barely contain her anticipation for the extraordinary day that awaited her.

-

The rhythmic buzz of Y/n's alarm clock greeted the new morning, a herald of the exciting day that awaited her. Brimming with anticipation, she practically bounced out of bed, fueled by a burst of energy that could only be described as a cocktail of nervousness and exhilaration. The bathroom became a sanctuary for a swift but thorough morning routine, cleansing her senses and preparing her for the significant day ahead.

As she perused her wardrobe, each garment held the weight of consideration. Y/n recognized the importance of making a favorable impression, especially considering the potential encounters with the discerning doctors at Arkham Asylum. She chose an outfit that balanced professionalism with a touch of her own style, a subtle nod to the gravity of the impending visit.

A glance at the clock revealed that she was ahead of schedule. It was 7:48, and uncertainty lingered about Professor Crane's punctuality. She realised she had no way of telling when he would arrive. Determined not to keep him waiting, Y/n decided to head outside, leaving the dormitory corridors.

The university grounds welcomed her with a subdued ambiance, the early morning calm only disturbed by the distant hum of city life. Y/n found a spot on a sturdy bench at the front of the dorms. The atmosphere was draped in the typical Gotham gloom – a ceiling of gray clouds stretched endlessly above, holding the promise of impending rain. Yet, for now, the air bore only a biting chill, a forewarning of the unpredictable Gotham weather.

Seated on the bench, Y/n couldn't escape the palpable excitement that rippled through her. The visible breaths she exhaled added a tangible layer to the anticipation, creating wisps of mist in the frigid air. The quietude of the campus seemed to magnify the significance of the moment as she patiently awaited the arrival of Professor Crane, the orchestrator of this extraordinary excursion into the unknown.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was blissfully unaware of someone approaching until a familiar voice cut through her reverie. "Good morning, Y/n," Professor Crane greeted her, his presence catching her by surprise.

Looking up from the ground, Y/n beamed a warm smile at him. "Good morning, Professor," she responded instinctively, the habit of addressing him formally ingrained in her.

"We're outside of class, my Dear, you don't have to call me Professor. Just Jonathan is fine," he suggested, a rare invitation to familiarity that caught her off guard. Testing the waters, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively trying out his first name. "Okay, Jonathan."

His smile in response conveyed a subtle warmth, as if sharing this piece of himself with her was a gesture of trust. "My car's just around the corner," he mentioned, and she rose from the bench to follow him.

As they made their way to the car, Y/n couldn't shake the peculiar nature of the situation. Getting into her professor's car in full view of her dorms was certainly out of the ordinary, but the sense of trust she felt for Jonathan quelled any reservations. The gentlemanly gesture of him opening the car door for her only added to the surreal atmosphere.

"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude with a smile as she settled into the car. Jonathan circled the vehicle and took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life. As he secured his seatbelt, he shifted the conversation to a more mundane topic. "Have any breakfast before leaving?" he inquired, glancing over at her.

The realization struck her – breakfast had slipped her mind in the whirlwind of excitement. "Uh, no, I didn't," she admitted, a slight sheepishness in her tone.

“Well we can’t be having that,” Jonathan said, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes behind his glasses. 

“Oh, it’s fine really,” Y/n tried to reassure him. 

"You're in for a long day; you need food," Jonathan remarked, his concern for her well-being evident in his words. "Besides, I haven't eaten yet myself. I know a lovely cafe on the way; don't worry about it."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Y/n smiled and responded, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, my Dear," he assured her, his use of the endearment somehow making the situation feel even more surreal. With that, he skillfully maneuvered the car into the flow of traffic.

To her surprise, the chaotic Gotham roads seemed unusually cooperative, allowing their journey to unfold with an unexpected smoothness. The city, notorious for its perpetual hustle and bustle, offered a brief respite as they cruised toward their destination. In the serene confines of the car, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the contrasting calmness outside. 

Jonathan expertly maneuvered the car into a parking space just outside a charming diner nestled on the outskirts of the Narrows. Exiting the car, the duo made their way into the cozy establishment.

"Seat yourselves, I'll be right with you," greeted a friendly waitress.

Jonathan gestured towards an inviting booth, Y/n slid into the seat, the comfortable booth promising a relaxing start to the day's adventures.

As they settled in, Jonathan reached for a couple of menus discreetly tucked beneath the cutlery. He handed one to Y/n with a casual smile. "Choose anything you'd like—drink and food. I'll pay," he generously offered, his gaze shifting to his own menu.

"Oh, I can't have you pay for me. You're already doing so much for me," Y/n insisted, a hint of guilt tainting her expression.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, his eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "You're a university student staying at the dorms; money is not something you should be throwing around. I, however, am well off with my jobs. Don't worry."

Despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness. "I just feel bad that you're doing all this for me," she confessed, her sincerity evident in her eyes.

"If you want to so badly, you can pay next time," Jonathan suggested, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll hold you to that," Y/n responded with a smile, the lighthearted banter momentarily easing the weight of gratitude she felt. The easy camaraderie between them made the ordinary act of sharing a meal feel like an extraordinary moment. 

She appreciated the effortless flow of their conversation, finding an unexpected camaraderie with Jonathan. The notion of befriending a professor initially seemed peculiar, but with each passing moment, it felt surprisingly natural. Their discussions swayed seamlessly between topics, and Y/n discovered a side of Jonathan beyond the classroom, making her appreciate him not just as an educator but as a genuinely pleasant individual.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the diner's windows, casting a warm glow on their table, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the ease with which they interacted. The atmosphere was friendly and unburdened by the typical student-teacher dynamic. In that little diner booth, they were just two adults enjoying each other's company, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of academia.

The array of options on the menu presented Y/n with a delightful dilemma. The diner's atmosphere was lively yet intimate, with the aroma of brewing coffee and sizzling breakfast filling the air. 

The waitress gracefully returned to their table, pen poised over her notepad. "What can I get for you two?" she inquired with a welcoming smile.

Jonathan was quick to respond, "I'll have a coffee and a breakfast bagel." His eyes then shifted to Y/n.

Feeling more on the sweet side, Y/n replied, "A berry smoothie and a brownie, please."

The waitress, attentive to details, followed up, "Would you like cream or yogurt with the brownie?"

"Yogurt, please," Y/n said.

The waitress jotted down their orders. "Is there anything else?" she asked, awaiting their final decisions.

"That'll be all," Jonathan confirmed, and Y/n nodded in agreement. With that, the waitress gracefully glided away, leaving them to resume their conversation in the cozy diner booth.

Jonathan chuckled at Y/n's choice, "A brownie at 8 in the morning?" he teased playfully.

"I know, it's a bit sweet," Y/n admitted, laughing along with him. "But treats like this are rare for me."

"Everyone deserves a morning indulgence now and then," Jonathan responded with a smile.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, exchanging bits of information about their lives, particularly revolving around university.

Around 10 minutes later, the waitress returned with their orders. "Here you go," she said, placing the plates in front of them.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude, eagerly eyeing the delicious spread in front of her.

As the waitress left, Y/n took a moment to appreciate the aroma of the coffee and the vibrant colors of her berry smoothie. Jonathan sipped his coffee and leaned back, a relaxed smile on his face. The atmosphere was comfortable, the diner buzzing with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery.

Jonathan leaned forward, taking ahold of his bagel, a faint smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind the detour for breakfast. It's good to start a day like this every once in a while."

Y/n chuckled, feeling the ease of their interaction. "Not at all. It's a pleasant surprise, actually. I didn't expect today to begin like this."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, sometimes it's the unexpected moments that make the day memorable."

Jonathan took a sip of his coffee before speaking, "So, tell me more about your interest in psychology. What drew you to the field?"

Y/n took a moment to savor her smoothie before answering, "I've always been fascinated by the human mind and how it works. It's like this intricate puzzle, and psychology helps me unravel its complexities. Plus, the idea of helping people through understanding their thoughts and behaviors would also be pretty cool."

Jonathan nodded, "It's a noble pursuit. Psychology has the power to make a significant impact on individuals' lives. Do you have any specific areas within psychology that you find most intriguing?"

“I won’t lie, Arkham has always been an interest of mine. Not necessarily the famous rogues that are constantly escaping, but the more troubled souls that had a rough start,” Y/n shared.

“Not so interested in the Joker then?” Jonathan teased.

“God no,” Y/n responded.

Jonathan chuckled, "Can't blame you there. The Joker is a whole different level of chaos."

Y/n took a sip of her berry smoothie, enjoying the refreshing taste. "But seriously, the idea of helping those who are struggling mentally, especially the ones society tends to overlook, that's where I want to make a difference."

Jonathan nodded, sipping his coffee. "Mental health is often stigmatized, and people don't realize the impact it has on individuals and society as a whole. Your dedication to understanding and helping is commendable."

The conversation continued, effortlessly weaving between casual banter and more serious topics. The comfortable atmosphere of the diner, coupled with Jonathan's easygoing nature, made Y/n feel at ease discussing her aspirations.

-

As they drove toward Arkham, Jonathan and Y/n continued their conversation, Jonathan sharing about the intricate workings of the human mind. The cityscape changed as they delved deeper into the Narrows, with its dodgy alleyways and poorly lit streets, which even in the dark made it difficult to see, creating an atmosphere of unease. The air felt heavy, carrying the weight of the stories locked within the walls of Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan glanced at Y/n. "It's a unique place, Arkham," he remarked, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The legendary reputation of Arkham Asylum had always fueled her curiosity, and now, with the prospect of exploring its mysteries, she couldn't contain her anticipation.

Securing a parking spot proved effortless in the vast, desolate parking lot. Stepping out of the car, Y/n gazed up at the imposing structure – a stone fortress that housed some of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Jonathan, an experienced guide in this ominous environment, approached her and led the way inside.

With a swift display of his ID, Jonathan gained entry, Y/n following suit without a single question. He grabbed a visitor badge for her before securing it around her neck.

The echoing clang of the heavy metal door closing behind them filled the entrance hall. The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, lined with security personnel stationed at various checkpoints. The cold, sterile air of the facility sent shivers down Y/n's spine as she adjusted the visitor badge Jonathan handed her.

The corridor seemed to wind endlessly, each turn revealing another layer of security. Jonathan led her through the labyrinthine structure, his familiarity with the layout evident. The occasional distant echoes of unsettling sounds from within the facility heightened the tension in the air.

As they passed by the barred cells, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances into the shadows, catching glimpses of faces that seemed to hold a myriad of stories. The residents of Arkham Asylum, each with their own struggles and torments, observed the visitors with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

Jonathan explained the varying levels of security, detailing the procedures in place to ensure the safety of both staff and visitors. Y/n absorbed the information with a mix of fascination and a growing sense of apprehension. The weight of being surrounded by some of Gotham's most troubled souls pressed down on her.

They eventually reached a central area, a hub of activity where staff members bustled about their duties. Y/n observed the dynamics, the interplay between doctors, guards, and the patients who moved within the confines of their respective spaces. The atmosphere was a blend of tension and routine.

Approaching a door, Jonathan turned the doorknob, revealing the door marked with his name – Dr. Crane. The office, his domain, welcomed them, and Jonathan efficiently navigated around his desk to retrieve a couple of files.

Jonathan gathered the necessary files and responded, "Just a regular in-patient for the first session, but the second might be less conventional."

"Will they be okay with me being present?" Y/n asked.

"Well, if you're concerned, you can always ask them. Consent is important," Jonathan replied.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Jonathan guided them through the dimly lit halls of Arkham, arriving at the room where the first session would take place. They waited at the door, observing the tense atmosphere. Soon, a guard led a patient down the corridor, and from Jonathan's focused gaze, Y/n assumed this was the individual they were there to see.

"Mr. Wilson, you seem to be in good spirits today," Jonathan remarked, his tone carrying a sense of monotony.

“Mhmm,” Mr. Wilson responded, his eyes wandering around the hallway.

“I have a student from Gotham University joining us today. She's here to observe the session. Would that be acceptable to you?” Jonathan inquired.

Mr. Wilson finally looked up, his gaze meeting Y/n's. It appeared as though he hadn't encountered a woman in years. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded slowly.

“Great,” Jonathan said, holding the door open for everyone to enter the room.

The room was clinical, with pale walls and minimal furniture. Jonathan guided Y/n to a seat near the back, gesturing for her to take a comfortable position. Mr. Wilson settled into a chair across from Jonathan's desk.

As the session began, Jonathan engaged Mr. Wilson in conversation, discussing various topics. Y/n observed the interaction closely, trying to discern the nuances of the therapy process. She noted the controlled detachment in Jonathan's demeanor, a stark contrast to the patient's erratic and paranoid behavior.

Throughout the session, Y/n was captivated by the exchanges between therapist and patient. Mr. Wilson's responses were often fragmented and disjointed, revealing the complexity of his mental state. Jonathan navigated the conversation with finesse, probing gently into sensitive areas while maintaining an air of professionalism.

As the session concluded, Jonathan thanked Mr. Wilson for his time, and the patient was escorted back to his room by a guard. Jonathan turned his attention to Y/n, who had been silently observing.

“What did you think?” he asked, his expression betraying a genuine interest in her perspective.

“You're a really good doctor,” Y/n chuckled softly.

"I appreciate that," Jonathan replied modestly. "It's crucial to establish trust and understanding with the patients here. Each case requires a unique approach."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing the gravity of the therapy session she had witnessed. Jonathan guided her out of the room, and they continued to explore different areas of Arkham, with Jonathan sharing insights into his work and the challenges he faced.

As they walked through the eerie corridors, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Arkham held a dark allure, and she marveled at the intricate dance between the staff and the troubled individuals confined within its walls.

"So, your next patient?" Y/n inquired curiously.

"I'm sure you've heard of Edward Nigma, otherwise known as the Riddler—a real piece of work, that one," Jonathan remarked.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. The Riddler, notorious for creating horrifying traps and puzzels for his victims.

"I'm assuming you're going to sit out on that one?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, please," Y/n replied.

Jonathan chuckled, understanding her hesitation. "Not a fan of riddles, I take it?"

Y/n smiled nervously. "Let's just say I prefer my challenges to be in textbooks, not in the form of elaborate mind games that may or may not get me killed."

"Well, you're not alone in that sentiment," Jonathan assured her. "Nigma is... unique, to say the least. We'll proceed cautiously, and you can observe from the safety of the mirrored room."

They continued down the hall, passing by cells where other inmates were confined. Each face carried its own story, and the air was thick with an unsettling atmosphere.

As they approached the next room, a heavy door with a small window, Jonathan peered inside. "Edward, good afternoon."

The Riddler, a man with sharp features and an air of arrogance, looked up from his seated position. "Crane, always punctual. Who's this?" He nodded toward Y/n.

"Edward, meet Y/n, a psychology student from Gotham University. She's here to observe our sessions," Jonathan explained.

The Riddler's eyes narrowed as he examined Y/n. "Ah, another curious mind seeking the secrets of the human psyche. Fascinating."

As they entered, Nigma looked up, his eyes locking onto Y/n through the window. A sly smile crossed his face. "Are you here to solve my riddles?"

"She'll just be observing," Jonathan explained, gesturing towards the second room—the observation room.

Y/n's discomfort grew at the Riddlers staring, but she managed a polite nod. Jonathan guided her to the observation room, assuring her of the safety measures in place before going in to talk with Nigma. 

From behind the one-way mirror, Y/n observed the intricate dance of intellect between Jonathan and the enigmatic Riddler, realizing that the challenges in the academic world seemed trivial compared to the complexities of Arkham Asylum.

The atmosphere grew more uncomfortable, and Y/n felt a chill run down her spine. She could tell Jonathan was reaching his limit with Edward's antics, his patience visibly waning.

"Riddle me this... how much does the Doll behind the window know?" Edward provocatively inquired, locking eyes with her.

Edward, ever the provocateur, threw a cryptic remark Jonathan’s way, using the unsettling nickname "Doll." She couldn’t understand how he knew where she was behind the window, considering it was a mirror from his side, but he was looking right at her.

Jonathan's reaction was subtle but telling. A momentary pause in his movements, a flash of irritation across his face, and then he composed himself. "My, my, getting lousy with the riddles, are we?" he retorted, his tone laced with thinly veiled frustration.

Edward, undeterred, pressed on, "Then let me ask a question..Why did you really bring her here?...Does she know about Scarecrow?" His tone held a hint of malevolence, making Y/n acutely aware of the dangers potentially surrounding her.

Jonathan decided that enough was enough. "That's it for today, I believe," he declared, swiftly closing his file and rising from his seat.

Edward, seemingly amused by the exchange, reclined in his chair, his laughter lingering as the guard escorted him out of the room. Jonathan approached Y/n, his expression a mix of exhaustion and determination.

-

Even after that chilling session, Y/n found herself increasingly drawn to the complexities of mental health and the delicate art of psychiatric treatment. As the last session concluded, Jonathan silently walked her back to his office, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

Packing away his last thing, Jonathan moved over to Y/n, “Come on…” Jonathan's voice broke the quiet, quietly guiding her out of Arkham, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Reaching his car, Jonathan moved to her side first, holding the door open for her.

"I hope this was an insightful experience for you," he remarked, opening the door for her.

"Absolutely," Y/n replied. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jonathan." She hopped into the car, and Jonathan closed the door behind her before taking his place in the driver's seat.

The day at Arkham had left a lasting impression on Y/n, sparking a newfound interest in the intricacies of the human mind and the challenges faced by those dedicated to healing it.

The occasional streetlight cast shadows across his face as she looked at him from her side. However, her mind couldn't shake the lingering questions from the Riddler's cryptic words at the end of the session. Did Jonathan have another motive for bringing her to Arkham? And what was he referring to with Scarecrow? What was Scarecrow, and what role did Jonathan play in it? The mysteries lingered, casting a shadow on the experience that, despite its profound impact, left Y/n with a sense of curiosity and unanswered questions.

She hadn’t even noticed Jonathan pulling up in front of the University dorms. It took a moment for her to realize that they had arrived, and Jonathan's gesture of opening the car door for her snapped her out of her daydream.

Jonathan opened her door and extended his hand to help her. "Thank you," she expressed meekly as she accepted his assistance.

“Don’t mention it...” Jonathan replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

“...You’ve been so kind to me, Jonathan. I really appreciate it. I honestly couldn't thank you enough,” Y/n conveyed, looking up at him.

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” Jonathan responded, a warm smile still playing on his lips.

Jonathan walked her to the stairs and as Y/n stood by the entrance of the dorms, she hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was appropriate to ask what had been lingering in her mind.

"Jonathan," she began, "about what the Riddler mentioned... Scarecrow, and your motive for bringing me to Arkham. Is there something more I should know?"

Jonathan's expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. He leaned against the car, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes.

"The Riddler likes to play games with words," Jonathan began, "and sometimes, the less you know, the safer you are. It's part of Arkham's peculiar charm."

Y/n nodded, understanding that some things might be better left untouched. "Okay..Thank you, Jonathan."

He nodded in return, a sense of mystery lingering in the air. "See you Monday."

With a final nod and a friendly smile, Y/n made her way into the dorms, the encounter at Arkham echoing in her mind.

-

Monday came around, and Y/n hadn’t stopped thinking about her indirect encounter with the Riddler. The weekend had been filled with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. She went about her usual classes, but the questions surrounding Jonathan's involvement with the Riddler and the cryptic mention of Scarecrow lingered in her mind.

As she entered Professor Crane's psychology class, she couldn't help but wonder if he would address anything related to their visit to Arkham. The room filled with students chatting, the usual buzz before the lecture, but Y/n found herself scanning the room for any signs from Professor Crane.

The door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Professor Crane, looking as composed as ever. He started the class without acknowledging Y/n at all, diving into the lecture material as if it were any other day. Y/n's curiosity grew, but she decided against pressing further, at least during class hours.

After the lecture, as students filed out of the room, Y/n lingered, waiting for the opportune moment to approach Professor Crane. Once the room emptied, she approached his desk.

"Professor Crane," she began, "I've been thinking about our visit to Arkham. I know I shouldn’t, but I haven’t stop thinking about what the Riddler was talking about?"

Professor Crane looked at her, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Then, he sighed, realizing her curiosity wasn't easily deterred.

"Y/n," he started, "Arkham is filled with various personalities, each with their own stories. The Riddler is among many. Some tales are better left in the shadows. Focus on your studies and leave the mysteries of Arkham where they belong."

It was a cryptic response that left Y/n with more questions than answers. She felt unsettled in the way Jonathan was dismissing it so easily. 

Jonathan sighed, observing her detachment. "Just forget about it, Nigma is in Arkham for a reason. Don’t take what he says seriously... He’s just trying to mess with your head," Jonathan said.

Y/n nodded. "Okay... sorry about that. I won’t ask again."

"No need to apologize," Jonathan replied, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

“I’ll be off now,” Y/n said, sensing a slight awkwardness in the air.

“You don’t want to stay?” Jonathan asked, his expression softening.

“Uh... would you like me to?” Y/n inquired, feeling a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

“Only if you wish to,” Jonathan said, leaving the decision up to her. The room held a lingering tension, a silent invitation for more conversation or perhaps a shared moment of quiet reflection.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering the unspoken offer. Eventually, she decided to stay.

"I don't mind staying for a bit," she said, offering a tentative smile.

Jonathan gestured toward one of the chairs in his office. "Please, have a seat."

As they settled into a conversation about various topics, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Y/n found herself opening up to Jonathan about her experiences and interests, and he reciprocated by sharing anecdotes from his work at Arkham. The initial professional boundaries started to blur, and a genuine connection began to form between them. It was an unexpected and refreshing turn of events for Y/n, adding a new layer to her academic journey.

-

In the following weeks, Y/n continued to attend Jonathan's office hours, not just for academic assistance but also for the engaging conversations they shared. Their discussions spanned beyond the realm of psychology, delving into personal stories, interests, and even occasional light banter.

As the semester progressed, Y/n found herself becoming more captivated by both the subject matter and her professor's unique approach to teaching. Jonathan's guidance extended beyond the classroom, as he recommended additional readings and shared insights that went beyond the standard curriculum.

-

The day that followed unfolded in a way Y/n hadn't anticipated. Making her way into Jonathan’s office for their customary daily discussions, she greeted him with a warm "Hiya," bearing a takeaway tray adorned with a coffee and a smoothie – their usual indulgences.

"Evening, Dear," Jonathan reciprocated, his smile adding a touch of warmth to the comfortable atmosphere of his office.

Choosing the inviting couch over the formality of the desk, Y/n settled in, and Jonathan joined her after finishing up his paperwork. The shift in seating only enhanced the coziness, turning their daily talks into a more intimate and relaxed exchange. Y/n handed the cup of coffee to Jonathan, a small gesture in their routine. She indulged in the refreshing sips of her smoothie as Jonathan accepted the coffee.

"Thank you, my Dear," he expressed with a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Y/n responded, the casual exchange feeling comforting.

Sipping her smoothie, she rested her head on the back of the couch, facing Jonathan. 

"..I know I said I wouldn't ask again, but.. I just can't shake off what the Riddler was saying..back at Arkham" Y/n said, slowly looking up at Jonathan.

Jonathan huffed, a hint of frustration showing in his expression. "What the Riddler said is not important," he dismissed.

Y/n sat back up, "I know that's not true. I don't understand why you can't just tell—" Y/n was abruptly cut off.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Jonathan suddenly snapped.

The sudden outburst startled Y/n, witnessing a side of Jonathan she wasn’t used to being directed at her. She could feel the tension in the air. Jonathan, realizing his sharp reaction, sighed. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just... trying to protect you, okay?" Jonathan explained, his voice softer, revealing an undercurrent of concern.

"..How is this possibly protecting me? The Riddler was taking about me... I need to know," Y/n insisted. She realized she had pushed too far, but this seemed like something serious that Jonathan was intentionally keeping from her.

Jonathan stood up slowly and approached his office door. Y/n heard the distinct sound of the lock clicking, sending fearful shivers through her body.

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room," Jonathan stated with a gravity that heightened Y/n's anxiety.

As Jonathan turned around to face her, setting his coffee down, he sighed and began tapping his feet with his hands on his hips—an unusual display of nervousness. Y/n, taken aback, had never seen Jonathan appear so uneasy.

"I will admit, Y/n, the feelings I have for you are not entirely appropriate," Jonathan confessed, avoiding direct eye contact.

Y/n let out a shaky breath. "What?"

"The real reason I brought you to Arkham was to make you feel special... to show off, even," Jonathan revealed.

Y/n's mind raced back to the Riddler's insinuations about Jonathan's potential ulterior motives for bringing her to Arkham. The revelation left her bewildered and unsure of how to respond.

Y/n tried to push aside Jonathan's unsettling confession, focusing on the second thing the Riddler had mentioned. "So what is Scarecrow?" Y/n inquired, curiosity driving her to seek answers.

She could sense Jonathan's breath hitch. "Scarecrow... is an individual with a fascination for fear," Jonathan explained, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands still on his hips. "I'm sure you've been hearing about the recent patients being admitted to Arkham with strange yet similar symptoms of hallucinations."

"So what does this individual have to do with me?" Y/n pressed further.

"Let's just say... his fascination doesn't stop there," Jonathan replied cryptically.

With each passing moment, Y/n's tension heightened. "Jonathan... who is Scarecrow?" she asked nervously.

"I think you already know," Jonathan responded, finally meeting Y/n's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Y/n found it difficult to catch her breath as her eyes darted around the room. Setting the forgotten smoothie on the ground beside the couch, Y/n stood up.

"I should probably go," Y/n attempted to make a quick exit past Jonathan, only to be halted by his firm grip on her arm.

The touch made her jolt, but his grasp didn't loosen. "I can't let you leave," Jonathan declared.

"P-please, I promise I won't say anything," Y/n pleaded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"How do I know that?" Jonathan questioned.

Her blood ran cold. "I promise you, I'll do anything," Y/n begged.

Jonathan looked at her curiously. "Anything?"

Y/n gazed at him, her stomach jumping. Acting on an impulse she couldn't quite comprehend, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. His eyes widened in shock, but the desperation in the air forced him to give in.

Jonathan couldn't resist, kissing her with a passion he had suppressed for months. His hands moved to Y/n's waist, pulling her closer. In that moment, Y/n thought, this was the perfect distraction.

She slowly moved one of her hands behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. Finally getting a firm grasp on it, she slowly turned the knob to open the door. However, luck was not on her side when the lock clicked loudly, the sound echoing in the room. Her heart dropped, and Jonathan's eyes shot open. Just as Y/n was about to hastily open the door, Jonathan pushed her back, causing her to scream as her body slammed against the door, keeping it firmly closed. Harshly grabbing her arms, he held them above her head.

He stared down at her as tears streamed down her face. "Trying to distract me, huh?" Jonathan said, an evil glint in his eye.

Y/n tried to yank her hands out of his grip, but it proved impossible given the strength he had over her.

"Please, Jonathan! You can't do this!" Y/n cried.

Jonathan brought his face closer to hers, she turned her head in fear, closing her eyes tightly. Jonathan dragged his nose up her neck, breathing against her skin. "I'll do what is necessary," he whispered.

In a desperate attempt, she brought her foot up, trying to stomp on his foot, but that only seemed to anger him more. Jonathan aggressively threw her around and shoved her over his desk, holding her down by her hands again. However, this time, he stood between her legs, preventing her from using them.

Y/n whimpered beneath him, but he remained unyielding. "I never wanted this to happen, but you don't leave me much of a choice," Jonathan spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I'll be nice, but you have to let me go," Y/n pleaded.

"That's not going to happen, my Dear," Jonathan said.

Before Y/n could react, Jonathan swiftly brought his sleeve-covered wrist up to her face, a faint hiss preceding the release of a mysterious puff of gas. Y/n's immediate response was a piercing scream as the unexpected spray hit her face, sending shivers down her spine. The gas had an acrid smell, and as she inhaled, an unsettling sensation crept over her. The world around her started to warp and distort, as if reality itself was bending to the whims of her deepest fears.

Y/n's vision blurred, and her surroundings became an eerie dreamscape. The once-familiar office now transformed into a haunting image. Jonathan's figure morphed, his features elongating and contorting, creating a grotesque visage that sent chills down Y/n's spine.

A sense of dread settled over her, intensifying with every passing moment. As the fear gas took hold, Y/n felt a chilling coldness crawl up her spine. Her body became increasingly heavy, and the room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her in a nightmarish reality. The longer she stared at Jonathan, the more the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, until the gas finally overwhelmed her. Y/n's consciousness waned, slipping into the abyss of her deepest anxieties, and the world around her faded to black as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

-

Waking up was excruciating, her head pounding with unbearable intensity. Fear pulsed through her, her heart racing in tandem with the throbbing ache in her temples. As she reluctantly opened her eyes, a disorienting mix of darkness and blinding light assaulted her senses. Surveying her surroundings only deepened her confusion; it appeared as though she had awakened in some kind of forest, a surreal landscape that contradicted Gotham's urban reality. Yet, her vision played tricks on her, rendering it impossible to discern between what was real and what was illusion.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, my Dear,” a voice echoed beside her.

Startled, she turned towards the voice, recognizing it but struggling to reconcile the distorted tones with its origin. The person wore a burlap mask, concealing their identity.

“J-Jonathan,” Y/n stammered, feeling a profound sense of weakness.

“I’m giving you a chance to run,” Jonathan declared.

Confused and disoriented, Y/n attempted to question him, but Jonathan interrupted her.

“I'll give you a 30 seconds headstart. If I can't find you, I’ll leave you alone. But if I catch you…I won’t let you go,” he ominously proclaimed.

“J-Jonathan, I can barely see!” Y/n cried.

“Get up, Y/n,” Jonathan commanded.

“Jonath-”

“Get. Up.”

His authoritative tone sent shivers down Y/n's spine. Trembling, she maneuvered to kneel on her knees, only to be met with a searing pain radiating from her ankles. A guttural scream escaped her lips as she gazed down, her vision still distorted. Through the haze, she discerned the ghastly reality – two bells, meticulously sewn into her flesh on either side of her ankles. The skin threaded through them, attempting to heal around the foreign objects. The grotesque sight made her stomach churn, and she screamed in sheer horror.

“What did you do to me! My fucking feet! You fucking bitch!” Y/n cried, her voice filled with rage and terror as she screamed at Jonathan.

He sighed before grabbing her by the arm roughly and pulling her to her feet. She sobbed, attempting to push Jonathan away, but his strength prevailed, keeping her on her unsteady feet.

“Listen, Y/n... I’ll give you a minute to get ready, but after that, you have to run... I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan said, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of calm and sincerity.

“You fucking liar! You put bells on my fucking feet! You gassed me! You have no fucking intentions of letting me go!” Y/n tried shoving Jonathan, her desperation evident, but his unwavering strength proved impossible.

Y/n felt a mix of fear and desperation as the distorted voice of Jonathan haunted her in the dark forest. The minute he gave her felt like an eternity, her mind racing with confusion and terror. She could barely comprehend what had happened to her – the bells on her feet, the agonizing pain, the disorienting surroundings.

As the seconds ticked away, Y/n attempted to collect herself. She fumbled to her feet, the pain shooting through her legs with each movement. She desperately wiped away her tears, trying to focus on her surroundings. The distorted voices in her head urged her to find a way out, to escape from this nightmare.

"Jonathan, please!" she pleaded, her voice shaky and weak.

But Jonathan remained silent, hidden behind the burlap mask, his presence lingering in the shadows. The ominous silence amplified Y/n's anxiety as the countdown continued. The forest seemed to close in on her, each shadow playing tricks on her mind.

As Y/n continued to struggle against Jonathan's grip, he finally let her go. She stumbled backward, her vision still blurry and disoriented. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the gravity of her situation.

“Your minute is up, Y/n,” Jonathan said coldly.

Panicking, Y/n attempted to move, but the pain in her ankles was excruciating. The bells on her feet jingled with each step, amplifying her fear. She could barely see the distorted figures of trees around her, unsure of where to go.

Jonathan's distorted voice echoed, “Run, Y/n. Run if you want to escape.”

With her heart pounding in her ears, Y/n turned around and limped forward, desperately trying to navigate the nightmarish forest. The fear of being caught and the pain in her feet merged into a tormenting symphony.

Every step felt like agony, the pain from her ankles shooting through her with every move. Determined, Y/n forced herself to pick up the pace, only to be met with the relentless jingle of the bells on her feet, echoing through the unsettling silence of the distorted forest. Her screams of frustration reverberated, a desperate attempt to drown out the haunting sound. Uncertain of the reality around her, Y/n pushed herself forward, driven by the primal instinct to escape from the unknown horrors lurking in the shadows.

The echoing chime of the bells attached to her feet seemed to resonate through the eerie forest, an ominous soundtrack to her desperate flight. Despite the seemingly impossible task of escaping undetected, Y/n pressed on, fueled by fear and rage.

Tears streamed down her face as she navigated the distorted landscape, grappling with the stark contrast between the professor she respected and this nightmarish pursuer. Regret and self-blame consumed her thoughts as she questioned whether she had unknowingly unlocked a darker side of Jonathan Crane or if this twisted game had been his true nature all along.

As the forest blurred around her, Y/n couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but the feeling of being hunted intensified with every breath.

The shadows danced around her, but Y/n had more pressing concerns. The closest forest was on the outskirts of Gotham, and by her knowlegde, this wasn’t it. The trees surrounding her didn't match the familiar landscape. Adding to the surreal experience, the echoing sounds of concrete beneath her feet contradicted the visual illusions that played out around her.

Although the effects of the gas were gradually diminishing, the horror lingered. Trees transformed into buildings, and lampposts seemed to sprout from the ground, creating a nightmarish dreamscape that defied the logic of Gotham's familiar streets.

Navigating the unnaturally morphing terrain was challenging on its own, but the addition of bells sewn to her ankles introduced a cruel twist to Y/n's desperate attempt to escape. A sharp turn around a building resulted in the bells grazing against a rough surface, tearing at her delicate skin. Agonizing pain shot up her legs, forcing her to collapse in sheer torment. A cry of pain escaped her lips, quickly stifled in the realization that Jonathan could be lurking anywhere, ears attuned to her distress.

As she sat on the ground, cradling her injured foot, hot tears streamed down her face. The sight of her foot revealed a troubling scene – it was red, irritated, and blood slowly trickled to the ground. Cursing under her breath, she was foolishly leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, marking her path for Jonathan to follow.

Defeated and desperate, Y/n closed her eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming hopelessness that enveloped her. Resting her head against the wall behind her, she weeped. She damned from the very beginning. Jonathan's idea of escape left her grappling with uncertainty – was his definition of ‘escape’ merely leaving this immediate area, contacting the police, or leaving Gotham altogether? Didn’t matter, she didn’t know.

Even if Y/n managed to ‘escape’, she knew all too well that Jonathan wouldn't simply let her be. Having spent months in his company, she had learned that determination and obsession defined him. The prospect of escaping his clutches seemed increasingly elusive, leaving Y/n trapped in a sinister game of hide and seek.

Refusing to succumb to hopelessness against the wall, Y/n gathered her remaining strength. She couldn't accept this as the end; she needed to keep going. Rising to her feet with deliberate determination, she carried on moving. Instead of running, which would only amplify the bells' noise and her exhaustion, Y/n pressed on with a steady walk. She was determined not to let Jonathan's twisted game break her spirit.

Undoubtedly, the blood marked her path, but Y/n had no other choice. Pressing forward was her only option. The effects of the gas seemed to have worn off, revealing a less distorted reality, albeit no less grim. She recognized that she was now in the Narrows, but the specific location remained a mystery.

As she moved cautiously ahead, a voice, dripping with malevolence, echoed from behind her. "I see my Dear has hurt herself..." Her blood ran cold. She didn't need to turn around to know she was in deep trouble.

The tears flowed freely down Y/n's face. "Why are you doing this?"

Jonathan remained silent, a chilling stillness in the air. He took a step forward, and instinctively, she took one back.

"Please..."

Suddenly, Jonathan lunged forward, catching her off guard. Y/n had no time to react as he tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed, the muffled sounds of her distress lost in the indifferent hum of Gotham's background noise. People in nearby buildings likely heard, but in a city like Gotham, such cries often went unanswered.

"Like a doe that's been shot," Jonathan spoke in a low, unsettling tone near her ear.

A syringe emerged from his pocket, and panic surged through her. She squirmed and fought, but his hold was unyielding. The needle pierced her upper thigh, and a sudden rush of paralysis coursed through her body. As consciousness waned, she heard Jonathan's remorseful voice.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he uttered, holding her captive on the unforgiving ground.

"I thought you were my friend.." Y/n cried, her voice echoing in the desolation of the Narrows.

The world around Y/n blurred as the drug took effect, robbing her of control over her own body. Jonathan's mask became an indistinct smudge, but his unsettling presence still lingered. The last words she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness were Jonathan's remorseful apology, leaving her with a sense of betrayal and a haunting question: What had she done to deserve this? -

A/N: I think it's pretty clear by now I have a chasing(Prey/Predator) kink🧍‍♀️I don't know about you guys, but I want that adrenaline rush of being chased by an obsessive man 😫🤚 Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. My requests are open for feel free to request 💚

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

RE: Gallifreyan Autism;

Telepathic stimming?

How does stimming work for Gallifreyans?

💫 Telepathic Stimming in Gallifreyans

Here's how it theoretically could work:

Mind Resonance Patterns: Autistic Gallifreyans might create rhythmic mental patterns, similar to humming or tapping, within their telepathic fields. These patterns help soothe their minds and maintain focus.

Telepathic Echoes: Some might generate faint telepathic echoes that bounce back to their own minds, creating a calming feedback loop. This resembles how some humans might use repetitive sounds or motions.

Psychic Tuning: Adjusting the ‘frequency’ of their telepathic signals could serve as a form of stimming. This involves fine-tuning their psychic energy to create a sensation of mental equilibrium.

Mental Imagery Constructs: Creating complex mental images or scenarios can be a form of telepathic stimming. These constructs provide a mental playground where they can engage in repetitive, soothing activities.

Telepathic Harmony: Synchronising their telepathic signals with others in a shared mental 'hum' might provide comfort and a sense of connection.

🖐️ Stimming for Main Senses

Gallifreyan senses are highly developed, so stimming can involve them too:

Sight: Gallifreyans might engage in visual stimming by focusing on shifting light patterns or holographic displays. Their advanced vision allows them to perceive intricate details, providing a source of visual comfort.

Sound: With their broad auditory range, they might create or listen to specific frequencies or rhythms that provide auditory stimming. This could include something like the hum of their TARDIS engines.

Touch: Tactile stimming might involve interacting with textured materials or using devices that provide gentle, rhythmic pressure. The sensitivity of their skin enhances this experience.

Smell and Taste: Gallifreyan olfaction and taste are incredibly sensitive. They might use scented objects or flavoured substances to engage in stimming, finding comfort in familiar, pleasant scents and tastes.

🔮 Stimming for Somatic Senses

Thermoception: Gallifreyans might use temperature changes for stimming, such as holding a warm or cool object or purposeful regulation of their body temperature.

Nociception: Gentle, controlled pain stimuli like pinching or pressure could serve as a form of stimming, helping to regulate their sensory input.

Equilibrioception and Gravitoception: Rocking or swaying motions might help them maintain a sense of balance and grounding.

Mechanoreception and Magnetoreception: They might use magnetic or vibrational devices that provide consistent, soothing feedback.

🕰️ Stimming for Time Sense

Temporal Rhythms: Gallifreyans might create or focus on rhythmic time patterns, such as the ticking of a clock or the regular pulse of a chronometer.

Chronopsionic Meditations: Engaging in meditative practices that involve visualising the flow of time could help them achieve a calming state.

Time-Sensitive Imagery: Visualising timelines or time streams, perhaps in artistic forms like temporal sculptures, can provide a source of mental stimming.

🏫 So ...

Gallifreyan autism gets a whole new host of possible stims, including telepathy, and this list is definitely not exhaustive. But remember each Gallifreyan is unique, and their stimming behaviours will reflect their individuality and the complexity of their senses.

Related:

💬|♾️👽Are Gallifreyans naturally autistic?: Exploring autism and its rate of occurrence in Gallifreyans.

💬|♾️🔮Can Gallifreyan autism affect telepathic/psychic development?: Exploring how autism could impact Gallifreyan development.

💬|♾️🧠Do Gallifreyans get ADHD?: Describing the symptoms of ADHD in Gallifreyans.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[dukeofthomas]

Developing wildly specific headcanons for a character that are 80% projection but actually make a lot of sense for them is hell because nobody even knows what I'm talking about

[sideblogformentalhealtshit]

,,,does human skin count as one of my safefoods, i wonder

[cass1opi4]

Hi! I've never seen a reader with Tourette's, do you think you could write a spiderman|peter Parker x m! Reader where they're on a mission and the reader's tics give away their location? That would be awesome <3

double trouble | peter parker

a peter parker x reader

he/him pronouns

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like a real person. his whole life, he’d been spoken to with pity - or bullied and provoked. no middle ground. either people would purposely trigger his tics, finding humour in the condition that had come upon him at seven, or tiptoed around him, walked on eggshells after knowing about his tourettes.

the boy sat beside him had never, not once, dared to do either. partially because he somehow had yet to clock onto the repetitive behaviours, yet also partially because it was not who he was as a person to judge someone because of such a thing.

he talked to y/n like he was normal. because he was in fact almost completely normal, bar the ability to literally move things with his mind. “we can talk about anything, right?” he spoke, unsure about whether or not he should bring up his thoughts.

“of course.” peter nodded, turning his head away from the sunset and toward his friend. “whats going on in the head of yours?”

“i..” he sighed “i feel like my entire life - everybody else has been in on some massive inside joke that only i’m not apart of.” it didn’t make sense, yet at the same time it made perfect sense. “it feels as if they all know something i don’t, and because of that everybody finds a way to point out my cluelessness.”

peter took the words in for a second, before agreeing “i feel that, i feel crazy sometimes.” y/n ushered him to continue “somehow people always find something in me they don’t like, which is messed up because i try my best to do everything right - but it feels so easy to fail.”

“thats why your dad left!” the boy instantly regretted the statement, following it up with a rushed apology, being interrupted by his friend.

“thats why yo momma love me more.” he shrugged simply, smug smile on his face, a gasp left y/n’s mouth.

“my momma dead.” he frowned, peters face dropped, fear filling his face “she isnt! i saw her this morning!”

“thank fuck.” he sighed “do you remember when i first found out about your tics? that was funny.”

y/n laughed “i do.. you were so freaked out.”

the two were hidden behind a wall, listening in on a conversation - well. one of them was. whilst peter was hyper-focused on the talking going on right next to them, y/n was in his own head about everything, focusing so hard on not blurting out anything that could ruin the mission. though, his tics were like coughs - the more you focused on not coughing, the more likely you were to grow your need to do so.

his heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his head, and unfortunately, this distracted his thoughts. “penis parker!” he belted out, eyes widening after he did so. “fuck.” he sighed, being shot at. he floated a desk, throwing it at the group of bad guys before gripping onto peter as the boy webbed out of there.

“what the fuck?!” he yelled once they got to safety, dragging his hands across his face as he ripped of his mask “how did you even find that out? how-“

“you’re peter?!” y/n gasped, mouth agape. now peter was even more lost. if he’d just outed himself for no reason, why did the other boy shout out such a condescending statement? “i- er..”

“why would you do that?” peter looked hurt, watching y/n pull off his gas-mask and frown. “y/n? what?!”

“i have tourettes.. i- i like, say things that are out of control. sometimes my brain and my body don’t communicate that great, i dont want to do or say these things, but i just do? i’m really sorry.”

“why are you sorry about that? if you can’t control it you shouldn’t have to apologise about it.” peter spoke “im sorry for freaking out, i honestly had no idea - kinda thought you were just being mean..”

“a lot of people assume so.”

the sky was now dark, void of stars thanks to the light pollution in new york, but the scene was still strangely beautiful. the new found silence between the two was nice, not an uncomfortable one, just two friends reminiscing on one of their first missions together.

peter hesitated to break the silence, not sure if his next statement would mean enough to ruin such a nice moment between them.

“can i say something weird?” he asked, watching his best friend nod, yet let out a rather contradicting ‘nuh-uh.’ “i.. getting to know you this past year or so has been what i’d consider the best part of my life. you’re so good.. in everything you do, you’re so good. i don’t think ive ever met a person who balances kind, handsome and funny as well as you do. i just.. i dont know. i-“

“are you confessing to me right now, parker?” y/n grinned, praying his assumption was correct, if he was wrong he’d deem it the most embarrassing interaction known to man.

peter bit his lip, nodding. “yeah, i am. i’m sorry.” his eyes shifted from the sky, locking eyes with, what he considered to be, an even more breath-taking sight. “you’re just so.. you. and i like that. in a world of people all trying to be the same you get to be you.”

“i’m so glad i have you in my life.” y/n thought aloud, moving his hand slightly to touch with peter’s “penis parker! you treat me like a person. and you’re so fucking unreal, you look hot doing everything- which is weird, because most people have at least one thing they look disgusting doing. but, god, even the way you eat pizza knocks me the fuck out.”

peter just smiled to himself, leaning his head on y/n’s shoulder, earning an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and a small kiss on the head.

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like more than a person. he felt loved.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

HI SKIBIDISSSS, im so sorry this is rushed i really want to go play royale high bc im brainrotted beyond belief unfortunately. im also just so out of writing motivation that writing feels like a choreeee. im ALSO sorry if this has inaccuracies! i have a friend with tourettes and got their help with a few traits in this. though, in my friends words their tourettes “isnt severe and mainly vocal.” so base it on that. thankyou for reading!!! sorry its short.

[wolfbitingstarboy]

BFRB Resources for Struggles Like Ours

These resources vary from reliable sites and blogs to published journal articles, professional papers, books, and more. If you have any recommendations for me, feel free to Submit something.

A separate post for tips, tricks, and non-affiliate product recommendations will be linked here as soon as I've posted it.

Now then, some of you may be wondering...

What is a BFRB?

Body-focused repetitive behaviors are among the most poorly understood, underdiagnosed, and untreated group of mental health disorders.

According to the TLC Foundation for BFRBs:

"Body-focused repetitive behaviors (BFRBs) include any repetitive self-grooming behavior that involves biting, pulling, picking, or scraping one’s own hair, skin, lips, cheeks, or nails that can lead to physical damage to the body and have been met with multiple attempts to stop or decrease the behavior."

(From the TLC Foundation's webpage, "What is a BFRB?")

The PickingMe Foundation says:

"BFRB's are self-grooming behaviors in which individuals pull, pick, scrape, or bite their own hair, skin, or nails, resulting in damage to the body. Many people are more familiar with its sister disorder, Trichotillomania - Hair Pulling Disorder."

(From the PickingMe Foundation's webpage, "What is Dermatillomania?")

The Recovery Village describes BFRBs as:

"Body-focused repetitive behaviors (BFRBs) are a group of mental health conditions that cause people to bite, pick, pull or scrape their skin, hair or nails compulsively. While some people with BFRBs have awareness and insight into their behaviors, others do them automatically. BFRBs are often linked with disorders like anxiety or substance abuse. Treatment is essential for people with BFRBs, but many often hide evidence of these harmful actions and have trouble asking for help."

(From The Recovery Village's webpage, "Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors")

According to Angela Hartlin's skin-picking support website:

Body- Focused Repetitive Behaviours (BFRB’s) “is an umbrella term for any chronic behavior that causes a person to consistently cause physical damage to oneself unintentionally through a compulsive act in order to relieve anxiety.” The key difference between BFRB and other compulsive behaviours that cause harm to the body is that BFRBs are characterised by direct body-to-body contact. The website goes on to list other BFRBs such as: hair-pulling disorder (trichotillomania), hair eating disorder (trichophagia), skin biting disorder (dermatophagia), nail biting disorder (onychophagia), and nose picking disorder (rhinotillexomania).

Getting BFRBs officially classified as disorders has been a long, slow process that only hurts those of us who struggle with them daily, as treatments and available resources relating to BFRBs can be very difficult to find. That's the reason why I'm composing this. I'll keep updating this post to the best of my abilities, both for myself and for anyone else it might help.

The good news is that while progress may be slow, there is still progress. Dermatillomania was finally added to the DSM-V-TR under the same OCD-Related Disorders umbrella as Trichotillomania, which has been a big step in the right direction. The more awareness brought to BFRBs, the sooner more can be recognized for what they are so the people suffering from them can receive proper medical and psychiatric help where necessary.

Are BFRBs a type of self-harm?

No.

While the two are not mutually exclusive, the general consensus seems to be that where self-harm is voluntary, BFRBs are grooming behaviors that have gone awry to the point that they are categorized as "OCD-Related Behaviors" in the DSM-V-TR due to their compulsory nature. These behaviors may or may not be driven or worsened by anxiety.

In the case of BFRBs, even though these behaviors cause varying degrees of bodily harm, they're ultimately driven by impulses and urges that cannot easily be controlled. Quite often the triggering event is discovering a physical imperfection in any way for any reason and attempting to "fix" it, despite the behavior being counterintuitive to the goal. The resulting behavior can occur actively or passively, with severe active episodes usually likened to being held hostage in your own body.

There is no desire to harm and very little ability to stop, and then all of it is followed by distressing feelings such as shame, guilt, or embarrassment. We try so hard to "break the habit" that we ultimately beat ourselves up mentally for "failing" yet again. Even though many of us might know we can't control it, it's too easy to blame ourselves for something we feel is somehow our fault.

[Please be advised the purple paragraphs below are personal examples with a few details that may be triggering for some.]

For example, the only way I can come out of bad episodes is when my bodily literally cannot continue. This may look like my back giving out from leaning on the counter in the bathroom, or my legs going completely numb from sitting for too long, or (much more commonly) my fingers or nailbeds hurt too much for me to keep using them, regardless of how much I may or may not have bled.

This is always followed up by what I call the "walk of shame" phase as I clean up every injury, apply Neosporin or other balms/salves, and bandage what I can. I've burst into tears before when I had to use Neosporin like it was lotion in order to cover everything, because I had too many wounds on my arms to be able to safely apply bandages/plasters.

No part of that process, from the trigger response to the cleanup, is something I want to do. If I had a say in it, I'd never pick or bite ever again, and my skin would finally be able to heal.

Self-harm, on the other hand, is a term reserved for bodily harm that is deliberately inflicted on oneself, usually as a way of dealing with difficult emotions, memories, situations, or experiences. Instead of acting on an uncontrollable compulsion, this type of harm stems from a different set of triggers, many of which relate to trauma or other disorders. This makes the behavior more of an unhealthy coping mechanism for people in pain who are desperate for release from those feelings.

Note: If you are unsure if your behaviors are a result of a BFRB or self-harm, Crisis Text Line is a good resource:

"Self-harm is serious. And, while the intention behind self-harm usually is not death, it can still be dangerous—both physically and emotionally. Talking to someone who can help you find alternatives is incredibly important. Of course, you can start by texting us. Also, consider telling someone you know who can help you connect with a professional."

General BFRB Resources:

Sites:

The TLC Foundation - "The TLC Foundation for Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors helps end isolation and shame for people experiencing hair pulling, skin picking, nail biting, cheek biting, and associated behaviors." They feature a robust website full of information on all BFRBs, including "Medications for BFRBs" and "Evidence-based Therapeutic Treatment for BFRBs."

The Recovery Village - "The Recovery Village aims to improve the quality of life for people struggling with substance use or mental health disorder with fact-based content about the nature of behavioral health conditions, treatment options and their related outcomes. We publish material that is researched, cited, edited and reviewed by licensed medical professionals." (BFRB-specific information can be found here.)

SkinPick.Com - While this site is centered around skin picking/excoriation disorder/dermatillomania, they have excellent resources for other BFRBs as well, including their Glossary page, "Complete List of BFRBs," and the blog section for "Related Disorders." I have also listed their site in the Dermatillomania section below.

Articles:

Online Journal: International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, Special Issue: "Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviours (BFRBs). Risk Factors, Prevention, Treatment"

The Recovery Village’s article, "7 Myths About Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors"

The Recovery Village’s article, "8 Little Known Facts About Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors"

Outreach:

"Health Education & Community Programs" (the TLC Foundation)

Communities & Support:

PickingMe Foundation's Online Support Group.

TLC Foundation's Support Group Directory for peer-led support groups.

SkinPick's online Forum.

Self-Help:

Nathan Peterson's ComB Model for BFRB Treatment, Part 1 and Part 2 on YouTube. Peterson is a licensed OCD specialist who helps people with OCD, anxiety, and BFRBs in person, through his OCD & Anxiety YouTube channel, and through his site, OCD-Anxiety.Com. (His BFRB specific course can be found on his site here.)

SkinPick's free self-guided program to stop skin-picking.

PickingMe Foundation's Derma Resource Packets "...are our campaign to spread Dermatillomania awareness to skin care providers (Dermatologists, Estheticians, Nail Salons, Clinicians), mental health professionals, and anyone who wants more info! We provide them with tools and the opportunity to point Skin Picking Disorder sufferers in the right direction."

PickingMe Foundation's Management Tips page, a "growing list of tips and management strategies!"

Mobile Apps:

SkinPick App – "A free tool to monitor your skin picking behaviors."

Specific BFRB Resources:

Onychophagia:

Not every instance of nail-biting is considered onychophagia. Most nail-biting behavior dissipates over time. It’s when it doesn’t that the behavior requires a closer look. Chronic nail-biting is categorized as an obsessive-compulsive related disorder in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5-TR).

SkinPick's blog post, "Onychophagia: More Than a Nervous Habit"

"Art of Prevention: The importance of tackling the nail biting habit," authored by Mohsen Baghchechi BS, Janice L. Pelletier MD, FAAP, Sharon E. Jacob MD, FAAD, FAAP. Published in the International Journal of Women's Dermatology, Volume 7, Issue 3, June 2021, Pages 309-313.

"Update on Diagnosis and Management of Onychophagia and Onychotillomania," authored by Debra K. Lee and Shari R. Lipner. Published in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 2022, 19, no. 6: 3392.

Dermatophagia:

Formerly referred to as "wolf-biting," dermatophagia has yet to be recognized as a diagnosable disorder.

SkinPick's blog post, "Do you eat your own skin after picking? There's a name for that."

SkinPick's blog post, "Dermatophagia - What is it?"

Dermatillomania:

Dermatillomania means “Skin Pulling Madness,” and has only been diagnosable since 2013. It is currently classified as an “Obsessive-Compulsive and related disorder” in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), where it is listed as Excoriation Disorder. However, it is known by many names, such as: Skin Picking Disorder, Compulsive Skin Picking, Acne Excoriée, Pathological Excoriation, Neurotic Excoriation, Pathological Skin Picking, and Psychogenic Excoriation. The many names for this disorder cause interference with its understanding and awareness.

Dermatillomania is often confused with other conditions. Common misdiagnoses result because the picking behavior is a result of a medical condition, confused with OCD, Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) and in some cases, Non-suicidal Self-Injury (NSSI).

PickingMe Foundation - "Picking Me Foundation NFP is the only donor-supported non-profit dedicated to advocating for Dermatillomania (Skin Picking Disorder) sufferers, supporters, and educational communities alike, encouraging individuals to choose themselves over the mental illness that chose them by #PickingMe over Skin-Picking."

Angela Hartlin's Skin Picking Support website. Hartlin is the author of, "FOREVER MARKED: A Dermatillomania Diary" and the creator of the documentary, "Scars of Shame," which you can watch for free here with the password, "Scars1" (Thanks, Angela!)

SkinPick.Com - "SkinPick is the #1 platform to treat excoriation disorder (dermatillomania). Get one-on-one support from a therapist specializing in treating compulsive skin-picking through evidence-based techniques."

SkinPick's "Do I Have Dermatillomania?" Test

SkinPick's blog post. "Skin Picking and Body-Focussed Repetitive Behaviours (BFRB)"

Stuff That Works’ page, “Excoriation (Skin-Picking) Disorder”

Trichotillomania:

Probably the most famous BFRB, Trich has the most resources available thanks to being the first diagnosable BFRB. The resources below are more general as a result:

TrichStop - "TrichStop is the world’s leading platform for Trichotillomania treatment. Get one-on-one support from a therapist specializing in treating compulsive hair pulling through evidence-based techniques." From the same support team behind SkinPick.Com.

TrichStop's "Do I Have Trichotillomania?" Test

TrichStop's blog post, "Trich and Comorbid Disorders: What We Are Learning"

The TLC Foundation's Trichotillomania page.

"Trichotillomania," authored by Aubree D. Pereyra; Abdolreza Saadabadi. Published in StatPearls [Internet]. Treasure Island (FL): StatPearls Publishing; 2023 Jan-. (Ongoing)

More to come.

There are more BFRBs than this out there, but I don't have the resources gathered for them yet. Hopefully the General resources help! I'll update this as I have time. In the meantime, I wish you all luck on your BFRB journeys.

-> Anxious? Try This:

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

What Is Stimming? (Self-Stimulatory Behaviors)

Hand and Finger Mannerisms

Finger flicking, and hand flapping can lead to tactile mannerisms

Upper Body Momentums

Rocking the body back and forth while sitting or standing, spinning, jumping and pacing.

Taste and Smell Stimulation

A persons sense of smell and taste. Sniffing or smelling people or objects, licking/tasting objects by placing them in the mouth.

Tactile Mannerisms

Fist clenching, skin rubbing, or scratching, with the hands or objects.

Visual Stimulation

Looking at something sideways, moving fingers in front of the eyes.

When a person feels anxious or overwhelmed or uncomfortable in a social situation, it can be their way of calming their mind.

* Stimming is also a way to keep the mind on track. The repetitive motions can allow those with autism to keep focused and clear their head of distractions.

* Stimming may be about self-regulation but it can also be a way to express their needs and feelings. They may be unconsciously communicating something - often distress or discomfort.

When routine stimming behaviour becomes more intense or exaggerated, it often indicates that something in the environment is bringing about feelings of anxiety. Pay attention and you could find your child communicating these feelings through their self-stimulatory behaviour.

Link to Article

Stimming