#it’s less to do with a personality disorder than an active imagination

[madeofbees]

today I was productive until I lost focus and had a consensual three-episode Hannibal binge

cheers babes, I’m heading to sleep

for sure

just to sleep

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆

organization: i know it's the most trivial advice in the world, but i swear it works. before doing anything, i take my planner and review everything i have to do, i divide the study by subject, amount of things to study and review spaces for exams. realistically, you can't expect to do it all in one day, but a good plan could almost allow you to sleep at night!

a clean workspace: i can't fucking concentrate if there's a mess aroud me, i get distracted easily, even by dust, so before i start studying i always deep-clean my desk. i know that not everyone can afford a personal and quiet place to study in their houses, so try to find yourself a small angle where you can really focus.

go to study in a library / café: i didn't believe it at first, but it's actually useful. if you have the opportunity to go to a library or a café after school ( or near your house ) do so. being surrounded by people who are studying like you really helps to focus, you'll be less inclined to get distracted and procastinate. i would feel uncomfortable using my phone in a library with other people who are doing their work while i'm sitting there scrolling on tumblr.

breaks: ik ik, not very blair waldrof, hermione granger, spencer hastings, rory gilmore of me, isn't it? but is it worth it. sometimes i end up having really bad headaches from studying and, even if i keep studying, the quality of my work decreases significantly. breaks are fundamental. i would not recommend using social networks for your beak, because they litteraly drain your attention, rather do your skincare, prepare yourself a snack ( eating is important! it's what makes you focus ), read 10 pages of your book, dance a little bit in your room, do stretching, go outside and buy some mint chewingum, something like that.

EAT!: girls, boys and theys, we know. i honestly think that almost every person that craves academic validation ends up developing a sort of eating disorder. it's not even the food, is the fact that you are too busy studying that you forget to eat, ignoring stomach cramps, or the fact that you didn't get that answer right and now you don't feel like you deserve the lunch. i understand bc i AM like this, like you. but think about it: you need to do it in order to survive ( but this is secondary to the grades, right? ) and to keep your brain active. you can't walk around with blurred vision because you haven't eaten or drunk for fourteen continuous hours. i swear that eating like a normal human being helps you to keep going.

sleep: same thing as eating, but with our terrible sleeping schedules. i know that school is toxic so we end up finishing our homeworks at 2 am everyday ( if we're lucky ) but when you have the chance, take a nap and recover.

repeat things as if you were explaining them to someone: this is litterally the fastest way ever to learn fundamental concepts when you're studying. imagine that you're talking to a friend that doesn't know anything about the subject that you're studying and try to explain the topic to them. finding simple words for a difficult topic will help you understand it thoroughly, on this basis you can then build an articulated and more academic speech. repeat things out loud, doesn't matter if you look crazy, you already are <3

check and organize your notes the same day: i never have time to take proper notes in class, so i review them as soon as possible, with the lesson still fresh in mind. it really helps me understand the subject and makes the further study much easier.

watch youtube videos: youtube is my favourite class. sometimes teachers are dumber than students and you, who don't have a degree in that subject and are tackling a topic for the first time, don't understand a damn thing. ofc not!! sometimes professors are terrible at explaining stuff, but fazal from pakistan isn't. i passed my physics class with a 10/10 thanks to an indian guy on youtube. documentaries and yt videos are a simple and nice way to understand better topics and do insights for extra credits.

delete social media: i'm gonna do another post specifically for this.

"STUDY!" wallpaper: last but not least, the dumbest yet the smartest advice, set as lockscreen a white / black / whatever background with a big fat "STUDY!" written on it. everytime you're about to pick up your phone and procastinate the wallpaper will scold you.

hope this was useful or at least fun to read byee

[furiousgoldfish]

I wrote a very pained, depressive and dark post, even maybe too dark for this blog, but I ultimately decided to publish it, just because this pain has always been invisible in me, and I want to be able to say something. If you're going to read it, there's a lot of mention of death and contemplation of suicide in it, and a lot of painful emotion. Maybe someone will resonate with it and find words to describe their own pain. I also want to note that even though every word of it is true, I am most of the time completely dissociated from this, I'm not actively thinking it, and it came out now because my parents are actively trying to find me and disrupting the life I've tried to make for myself.

What my parents did to me is worse than death, they erased me. When I escaped I didn't know who I was, I had no hope to survive, I didn't think I was worth anything, I felt ashamed to even exist. I was suicidal, i thought I'd be dead within a month even if I don't do it myself. I didn't think I had it in me to survive, to be alive, to be anything. I was a less than a ghost, I didn't even have memories to remember of who I once was because there was no warm memories, only violence, blame, guilt, shame, pain, terror. I was supposed to be a person, and they put me in a state where I knew nothing about being a person, only property and a target, it was my entire life. I was told I deserved this, I was a monster, there was never anything else that is correct to do to me, but hurt me. I thought it was my job to be endlessly harmed. They knew I was suicidal and didn't stop. The only reason I didn't kill myself was the dissociative disorder that functioned like a suicide prevention measure, I physically could not have done it because I have been split into pieces and one of the pieces prevented me from doing it. I would have died otherwise.

What would a quick violent death be compared to this? A fucking blessing. I was slowly tortured until I was willing to kill myself in order to end it. They didn't want to dirty their hands with my murder, they planned on torturing me until I did it to myself. I had an intense drive to survive despite everything, and even that was getting erased. My basic instincts were being erased by the amount of pain I was in. My personality was gone, I didn't even have a personality, it was all overwhelmed by pain and desperation to both survive and end it all, I walked trough life looking death in the face the entire time, it felt so close, so close to me, like it would claim me any second, but I had to stay stoic, calm, me staring down death had to be invisible, I couldn't let it show. It shouldn't have mattered to anyone what I was experiencing. I was torn between life and death, stuck in constant anticipation of it and it couldn't have mattered.

Take a person, any person, imagine them having a life, family, friends, interests, hobbies, desires, dreams, loved ones, support, community. Now imagine that same person isolated, everything stripped away from them, and them being hurt until they can no longer remember anything they wanted to live for. Even their basic instinct to survive is stripped frm them as pain is too large for them to be able to sustain themselves, there's no longer anything in this person's life worth living for, nothing they remember about who they were, no warm thought they can think about themselves, and they're repeatedly told they deserve this, they've wanted this. Until there's nothing of them left.

That was me, but from the start. I didn't get to experience having a life, family, loved ones, interests, dreams, community, or any of that first, I didn't get to know how it was to have any of that! From the very start it was pain and being told that this is all there is, and that I'm stupid for ever thinking there would be anything more to life, that it is in fact, only terror and death and I'm a weakling for not taking it better, everyone else is dealing with this just fine. Shame and guilt were the only traits I could have, I didn't know anything further about me. Nobody knew me because nobody saw me being abused. Nobody could know I was worthless, it had to be my private hell. I would have to live only to the point where it was decided that it was enough and I had to die, or until the point where I couldn't take it anymore and take my own life, even though I so strongly didn't want to, even that basic desire was tempered with and overwritten by pain.

Who would want a life like that? Life of not only being aware that nobody cares about you, but everyone around you is willing to inflict pain on you until you wish to die, but can't. Where crying and screaming is forbidden even when you can't breathe from the amount of pain you're in; you're not even allowed to cry out. You fight with yourself every day on how badly you want to die and why you can't, and it doesn't help, you get lost in magical thinking in order to escape from the hell you're in, but you're brutally reminded of it every time you interact with anyone, when they find you hiding under the bed and dreaming. You don't even know that you're supposed to have loved ones, be safe, be unharmed, that life is supposed to be different, that you're not alive only to be a target, that you're worth anything. You don't even know that you're supposed to have more freedom in life than to choose the manner and time of your death, this is all that's dealt to you. And now, live, see how far you can get before you die. Would anyone choose that? Would anyone decide to be born into a life like that? Wouldn't you choose not to exist at all rather than be put trough that? To be erased and then having to keep on living while thinking you in fact, deserve death, and should do it yourself, and you know if you do die, it won't matter, just like your life didn't? Because people around you regularly nearly kill you and then laugh about it like it was a funny joke? They humiliate you for how ugly you look close to death? You're scared that your last moment will be humiliation for how unseemly your corpse looks and you're hoping you'd be able to die alone, to not be berated as you're dying.

Death is nothing to me compared to this. Waiting to die is worse than death. Endless anticipation of pain is worse than death. Having everything about you erased by pain is worse. Not knowing anything about yourself except that you are incredibly shameful existence and that you need to feel guilty all of the time, is worse. Watching people around you receive care and warmth while you're stuck watching death in the face silently, pretending it's not happening, and trying to not have anyone's attention on yourself because someone noticing means more pain, more shame and guilt. It's worse. Kill me any fucking day. But this will always be worse. Every time I face the reality of my life I wish I had died in the womb, at childbirth, I wish I had died when I was 1, 2, 3, 5, 10, 12, any time before I experienced all this. It would have been so much less pain. It would have been so much easier on me.

And I've already given up on ever having a place in anyone's heart, because at this point, I don't have it in me to make people love me. I have nothing about me that is other people find worth caring for, I made peace with it. There will be no loved ones, and thats fine. But at least then I should get to live my life alone the way I want it. I should find joy in being who I found I am, and doing what I want to do. I should get to do things that give me a little bit of pleasure and enjoyment, and I should be safe, and death should no longer come knocking at my door, staring me down like I owe it something. If I can't even have that, then to hell with everything. What is the fucking point of anything if all my life is a continued slow torture until I can no longer bear it. I have nobody to bear it for, nobody would be harmed by my death. But I also don't deserve to die, because I want to live, and this should be mine. Who the fuck dares to try and take this away from me again. I want to fucking explode. If I have to make my own justice then how do I do it. I literally just want to live. And I see other people having at least that much secured for them. Why can't I at least have that much. I am seriously asking for the bare fucking minimum.

[valtsv]

what's being low-empathy like? i've never heard about varying degrees of empathy or what an empath is, i thought it was an internet joke (i'm not usamerican so maybe the theory is more evolved in the US) isn't empathy something you practice throughout your life and interactions?

'empath' has been turned into a sort of internet joke as a result of the label being treated like this shortcut to being a good person by some, but being high empathy =/= being an 'empath' and can in fact be very unpleasant and difficult because being highly sensitive to other people's emotions can be exhausting and overstimulating. honestly i don't envy high empathy people at all.

for me low empathy is like... i can figure out how other people are feeling sometimes, but it takes me longer and involves more intentional mental processing. i have to actively want to empathize with someone to do so, and can quite easily detach myself from a situation if i don't want to. my baseline empathy reactions to stimuli are very dull and distant, and i struggle to place myself into other people's shoes and often draw incorrect conclusions as to how they might be thinking and feeling and why they might have made the decisions they did on my own. i can be unobservant if i'm not trying to be, and fail to notice other people's feelings unless they make an effort to tell/show me, leading to me often being less involved in social groups and feeling 'out of the loop' on any developments that occur within them. i am frequently undisturbed by shocking and upsetting things because i just can't imagine what they must actually be like to experience.

to make up for this, i try to ask people questions and observe the world and people around me for clues to analyze that might help me figure out how to empathize better. i also have a tendency to stick to routines and 'stock reactions' in my social interactions whenever i'm unsure of how to respond, even with people i'm very familiar with. i don't mean them any less, but if for example i know that saying a certain phrase or performing a certain action usually provides comfort and i see someone upset and want to offer them my support, i'll use it unless i have a strong sense that an alternative course of action would be more appreciated. i'll often ask people what they would like me to do for them rather than assuming because i know my assumptions are often based on limited and inaccurate information and might just make things worse, which some people find very considerate, but others find needy and immature.

i do think that empathy is a skill that you can practice and develop. i have a developmental disorder (adhd) as well as a very socially isolated and abusive upbringing, so i have no doubt that my lack of empathy is at least partially based in that, and while i don't think you need to be highly empathetic to be a good person, i do hope i'll be able to develop mine a bit!

[sch-com]

Specific manifestations of schizoid PD in my life

see similar post for anakastic PD / OCPD

When I first heard of my personality disorders, it was hard for me to notice their role in my life. Part of it was that I was younger, and with less experiences, but part of it was that by nature PDs are so ingrained it's hard to see the full scope of their influence. Particularly I struggled to see the "dysfunction" part - I was thinking that sure, I do experience that, but is it really that bad? And you can't have a PD without the dysfunction, so do I even count? I think that now, after some time and more reflections, I can say I do see the dysfunction, so I thought to share my observations.

Using the DSM V criteria for schizoid PD:

1/ Neither wants nor likes close relationships, counting being part of a family / Has no close friends other than immediate relatives

When I was first moving out for university, I didn't really have any close enough friends I would feel truly comfortable moving with. It limited my choices, and influenced the one I ultimately made (a mistake).

Also, when I was moved out and experienced my first full-blown mental health crisis, I didn't have anyone around me to rely on.

Studying in uni is much harder when I am not talking with people in my class. Normally students support each other, share notes etc I imagine. I have to do everything alone.

Talking to people = opportunities. And support. Real, material support of being physically near. Going to places together, someone having a job opprotunity, hell even having anyone around in case of an emergency.

I suspect at least part of my emotional problems can be attributed to my self-imposed isolation. Occassionaly when I do talk to someone, it's like... an altered mental state, in a good way. When I laugh, I feel physically good. And it's easier to laugh with other people around. It's the little things I think, that are crucial and I am largely missing out on.

2/ Almost constantly picks introverted activities

Sharing what you do can help you progress faster. Sharing your art and getting critique, joining language classes. Sure I can do all of this on my own as well, but it may be sub-optimal. I think it's a matter of balance - and if I consistently choose to opt out of group activities, it could be seen as dysfunctional.

Also again, doing stuff with other people = meeting other people = getting the social connection, vital for even physical health, and gaining access to opportunities and support.

Other people can also motivate you, or keep you accountable for doing something. When I do (almost) everything on my own, I have to well, rely on my motivation / determination, which is often hard (more on that in 4/).

3/ Has little if any, thought in engaging in any sexual experiences

Frankly I am asexual, so I wouldn't say it's causing me any distress. I suppose that lack of sexual life can be viewed as lack of a major life activity, if you want to interpret it that way.

However, somewhat connected to 4/, it's hard for me to say 100% that sex life is something I truly don't want, or if it's just another thing I am opting out of out of the lack of reward. More on that below.

4/ Seldom derives pleasure from any activities

The emotional implications are written into the criterium itself. Lack of pleasure is I think dysfunctional already.

But, adding on the above - lack of pleasure/satisfaction definitely made me lose a lot of motivation for doing anything. I have disengaged from hobbies because of it. I have disengaged from studies, from social activities, from even simple things watching movies, reading, or cooking a good meal because of this. I have to force myself to do pretty much anything. There is not a single thing that I do simply because I truly enjoy it - I need another reason on top, like an obligation.

What I mean by the above, is that... I think I have opted out of things because they don't bring me much emotional reward, not the other way around (so it's NOT that I don't get a lot of joy because I don't do things). I remember when I was younger and more active in life, doing something like travelling, or acomplishing something, and emotionally not getting anything out of it. So I wished I was just in bed and not doing the thing, because at least it's less effort, for the same emotional reward (= lack thereof). And as I became an adult with more control over my day-to-day, I stopped many major life activities because I can. And it's all the same.

5/ Appears apathetic to the admiration or disapproval of others

For me it's largely related to 4/, because I don't get much internal reward from external stimuli, it also manifests in how this criterium describes it.

I've had people believe in me in the past. Try to encourage me, praise me, tell me they see a potential. But I... couldn't believe them. I don't feel this, it's all the same if I am awarded something or not. External rewards don't cause internal reaction, so like why bother? Why bother going after this hard thing, winning a competition, if after I acomplished it it's all the same void? I put the effort into something, only for this to not matter. So I stopped putting so much effort.

I think it may also discourage others from trying to help me, because historically I haven't shown much reaction, or improvement, or gratefulness for their honest efforts. To give up on me, because I seem like this empty shell of a person. But I don't really know, I think it would have to be someone else to confirm this.

6/ Shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affectivity

People told me that I appear flat and so it's hard for them to read me. It's hard to know what I think, and some became afraid that I was judging them, when I... I don't? Overall, this one makes it really hard to connect to others and to be understood. So it makes me feel even more like an alien.

I have also hurt people because of this. Because I detach, I isolate, I forget about people. I am the friend you have to message to get a conversation, or schedule a meetup, because I don't initiate. I know it's a hard position to be in, and I don't want to hurt anyone, so I only disengaged more to not even have any friends that would care about me enough to be hurt by my isolation.

Because I seem all the same (flat and withdrawn) all the time, it's harder to notice when I am struggling. I can be in the throws of depression and actively suicidal, but outward appear pretty much the same. So people don't believe me, not even professionals, and I have been neglected because of this.

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds Chapter One: Apéritif

TW: death, crime scenes, Cannibalism.

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

F.B.I. ACADEMY, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

I walk into a Lecture hall and stand in the shadows next to my new boss Agent Jack Crawford, head of the FBI's Behavioral Science Analysis Unit or the BAU.  I listen as the teacher describes the crime scene he witnessed. "Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another. Be it your own hands or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow." The man says in a tone i can describe as knowledgeable. A series of pictures of the Marlow home crime scene photos are projected on the screen behind the stoic man. He surveys the lecture hall for social appearances. He never meets an eye, at most he glimpses brows, lids, the occasional lash -- but never eye contact. "Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are." he asks Jack and I enter as the trainees file out of the classroom. There are scattered smitten glances tossed in the Teachers direction, who is naturally oblivious because he is actively avoiding eye-contact with everyone, even as he warns his exiting students: "The sad, dull truth of these crimes is they can usually be reduced to a male penetrative control issue. I am expecting a higher level of scrutiny." he says in a wise tone, the last of the trainees leave and the teacher notices he's alone in his lecture hall with the weathered, austere man and put together, classy young woman. "Mr. Graham." Agent Crawford says as the man i have now put together is Mr. Will Graham quickly puts on a pair of glasses as Jack and I approach. The top rim of Wills glasses are strategically positioned to block Me and Jacks eyes and prevent direct eye-contact. "I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Science Unit. I want you to meet Dr. Y/n L/n, shes a psychiatrist and my new criminal profiler." jack introduces himself and me to the man. I smile kindly at the man as i hold my hand for him to shake, i don't look him in the eyes as i don't like eye contact; eyes tell to much and make it hard for me to focus. "its nice to meet you Mr. Graham, I've heard great things." i say in a kind and polite tone

"its a pleasure to meet you Dr. L/n" Will says shaking my hand and giving me a bittersweet and slightly uncomfortable smile. " You've hitched your horse to a teaching post. I understand it's not easy for you to be sociable." Jack says as he looks at me and will analyzing each other "I'm just talking at them. I'm not listening to them. It's not social." he says still looking at me doing the same as i am Analyzing. Jack gently pushes Will's glasses up the bridge of his nose so he's forced to make fleeting eye contact. "Where do you fall on the spectrum?" Jack asks Will picks up the rhythm and syntax of Jack's voice: so do I "My horse is hitched to a post closer to Aspergers and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths." will says looking down avoiding eye contact with Jack. "But you can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths. Like Dr. L/n can correct?" Jack asks in a curious tone, "I can empathize with anybody. Less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination." I say and Will nods to agree with me Jack smiles at that "Its the same for me, i can empathize with anybody but like Dr. L/n said its less to do with personality disorders and more to do with an active imagination." Will says as he packs up his bag. "Well, Can I borrow your imagination?" he asks will Agent Crawford leads Me and Will Graham across a field of Trainees on a Firing Range as another group of trainees in matching sweats jogs by. "Eight girls from eight different Minnesota campuses abducted in the last eight months." jack says briefing me and Will on the case, "I thought there were seven." i say slightly confused, i look over at will and it seems like hes in the same boat "There were." jack says looking over at me "When did you tag the eighth?" Will asks Jack in a similar tone that i used. "About three minutes before Me and Dr. L/n walked into your lecture hall." jack says, he didn't mention this to me "You're calling them "abductions" because you have no bodies?" Will says curious "We have nothing. No bodies. No parts of bodies. Nothing that comes out of a body. We have lonely swabs in used evidence kits." jack says in a tone twinged in desperateness " Then those girls weren't taken from where you think they were taken." i say in a sarcastic tone "Where were they taken from?" jack asks look over at me then at will "I don't know. Someplace else." will says smiling sarcastically, i chuckle at that.

Seven blue squares dot the Minnesota map corresponding with seven graduation or casual pictures of the seven missing girls. "All abducted on a Friday so they're not reported missing until Monday. However he's covering his, tracks he needs the weekend to do it." Jack says as he Guides me and Will over and hands me a picture of what i assume is the eighth victim. "Number eight?" will asks looking at the picture over my shoulder and no longer wearing his glasses "Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State on the Mississippi. Disappeared Friday. Supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend. Feed their cat. Never made it home." jack says i roll my eyes "One through seven are dead, don't you think?" i ask sarcastically humoring will "He's not keeping them around. Got himself a new one." will agrees by taking the words out of my mouth "We're focusing on Elise Nichols" Jack says agreeing with Me and Will. Will and I take in the smiling hopeful faces next to the corresponding blue squares . "They're all very uh Mall of America. That's a lot of wind-chaffed skin." Will says as he gazes at the girls faces "Same hair color. Same eye color. Roughly same age, height, weight. What is it about all these girls?" jack asks looking at Me and Will "It's not about all of these girls. It's about one of them." i say as I pin Elise Nichols' photo next to the eighth blue square.

"He's like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar. Hidden amongst all those candy bars is the one, true intended victim, which if we follow through on the metaphor, would be your Golden Ticket." Will says following my train of thought "So is he warming up for his Golden Ticket or reliving whatever he did to her." jack asks as he steps to stand right next to us "Golden Ticket wouldn't be the first taken and she wouldn't be the last. He would hide how special she is. I mean, I would. Wouldn't you?" i ask looking up from the girls faces to jack "I'd like you and Dr. L/n to get closer to this." jack says looking at us, will starts to shake his head "You have Heimlich at Harvard, Bloom at Georgetown and now Dr. L/n. They do the same thing I do." will says as he turns around and starts grabbing his stuff. "That's not really true, is it? You and Dr. L/n have a specific way of thinking. and from what i see so far you and Dr. L/n work very well together." jack says as i turn around to face will crossing my arms and leaning against the table "Has there been a lot of discussion about the specific way Me and Mr. Graham think?" i ask pointedly "Both of you make jumps you don't explain." jack says looking at me then will dead in the eyes.

"The evidence explains." Will says seeing that jack is upsetting me "Then help me find some evidence."jack says Will studies the beautiful milquetoast faces on the map. "That may require me to be sociable." Will says sarcastically   DULUTH,MINNESOTA      ~ THE NICHOLS' HOME~

Elise's parents are from what i can deduce, sick with worry. Mr. Nichols is rationalizing while Mrs. Nichols seems almost resigned. "She could have gone off by herself. She was a very interior young woman. She didn't like living in a dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and..." Me, Will Graham, and Jack Crawford sit opposite Mr. and Mrs. Nichols as he trails off. Hard to convince even himself. Will continues to avoid eye contact with the Nichols. "She looks like the other girls." Mrs. Nichols says anxiously  Jack nods as Me and Will stand up to look around at the home " Yes, She fits the profile." jack says calmly "Could Elise still be alive?" Mr. Nichols asks cautiously, I feel bad for the couple knowing the odds of their daughter being alive is very slim. "We simply have no way of knowing." jack says solemnly, A previously silent Will Graham offers an odd question: "How's the cat?" will asks turning around looking at the Nichols "What?" Mrs. Nichols asks confused i continue Wills line of questioning "How's your cat? Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It didn't eat all weekend. Must have been hungry." i ask looking over at Will and the Nichols.

The Nichols are initially unsure how to respond to my question, then: "I didn't notice." Mr. Nichols says absently, I look over at Will and Jack. Will looks at me and seems to know what im thinking and nods, my suspicions were correct he took her from here. "would you give us a moment" Jack ask and he pulls Me and Will aside "He took her from here." Will says softly so that the parents don't hear, Jack gives Will a look that says 'go on'  "She got on a train. She came home. She fed the cat. And he took her." I continue for Will, i look at Jack dead serious Jack nods understanding.  Jack doesn't hesitate to pull out his phone and dial. "The Nichols house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately. Zeller, Katz, Jimmy Price, and a photographer." Jack says into the phone. The Nichols are trying to wrap their minds around the quick flurry of action and what it means to their little girl. Me and Will turn to the parents "Can we see your daughter's room?" Will asks the Nichols "the Police were up there this morning." Mrs. Nichols says softly

Mr. Nichols leads Will and I, who are pulling on gloves as we approach. Will warily eyes the cat pawing at the door eager to go inside. I stop  Mr. Nichols from reaching the door knob. "I'll get that. Mr. Nichols, would you put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything please?" i ask sincerly, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting the man to disrupt the evidence "We been in and out of here all day." Mr. Nichols responds "You can hold the cat if it's easier." Will says continuing my notion, Mr. Nichols picks up the cat as instructed. I wrap a gloved hand around the knob and open the door. The light from the hallway streaks across the floor and up the wall as Will and I enter. We stand  just inside the door, immediately noticing the open window. Will flicks on the light switch, illuminating the room. I stare at the sight in front of me. Elise Nichols. She lays coffin-style in her bed, dressed in pajamas as if she had just gone to sleep. The gray pallor of her skin, the clean puncture wounds visible under her pajamas, and her un- breathing bosom are immediately evident to Will and I. Sadly, Mr. Nichols fails to notice. Blinded by hope, he steps forward. "Elise?" Mr. Nichols asks Hopefully, my heart aches for the father. Will raises a gloved hand, stopping Mr. Nichols. as i take a step forward to assess the situation without touching the body. "I need you to leave the room." Will says to Mr. Nichols still holding him back. Realizing the worst, Mr. Nichols abruptly drops the cat.

~20 MINUTES LATER~

"You're all wired. You talk it out to us when you feel like it, don't say anything when you don't feel like it. Take as long as you want. We will come in when you tell us." Jack tells Me and Will, Will nods but i just continue looking at the body. Jack stands and exits the room. reflected light flashes across my face, lighting up my cobalt blue eyes. All sound is dulled as if my ears were blocked, the ambient noise of my circulatory system provides an organic hum. The crime scene photographers takes pictures.  Jack  herds Price, Katz and Zeller out the door. Will scoops up water in his hands from the faucet in the sink to wash down the last two Aspirin from his now empty bottle. He splashes water on his face, dries it with his shirttail. I have climbed out the window onto the porch roof. I sit on the gritty shingles. I hug My knees, my damp shirt pressed cold across my back. I snort the night air to cleanse the smell of Elise Nichols death from my nose as Will climbs out and joins me. From Our vantage point, we  can see police officers, police cars and other crime scene specialists assembled on the lawn.

Mr. and Mrs. Nichols are treated in the back of an Ambulance. I take a breath, exhales, then close My eyes. A PENDULUM  It swings in the darkness of My mind, keeping rhythm with my heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM.  I open my eyes and  i am standing outside Elise Nichols' Bedroom Window. The neighborhood is quiet and empty. No Police. No Police Cars. No Ambulance. I look through the window glass to Elise Nichols sleeping soundly in her bed. I quietly open the window.  I stand over Elise Nichols, very much alive. I watch her for a quiet moment. Tears well in My eyes, then... I bear down on Elise's chest with my knee, cracking ribs as I simultaneously squeezes her throat shut with my hands. It's sudden and horrible and violent. Elise is immediately startled out of a deep sleep into terror, I feel her fear and confusion. Elise struggles, her face swelling with pressure, capillaries in her skin and the whites of her eye wrinkle and burst. Tears stream down her cheeks as she tries to scream but cannot. The bed board finally SNAPS and with it, Elise dies.  i feel the killers, who my mind is potraying me as emotions hes or i've in this case killed her with love and care and mercy but also rage.

"You're Will Graham. and your Dr.Y/n L/n." i snap my eyes open now standing in the room next to Will as hes also been startled, doing the same thing i was. i look at the person who interrupted my design. but before i can say anything to the woman. "You're not supposed to be in here." Will says annoyed and breathing heavily. "You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity." The woman says while looking at will with curiosity then gives me the same look. She indicates her tweezers and what's between them. "Found velvet in two of the wounds." she says non-chalantly she then looks back at Will "You're not real F.B.I.?" she asks smirking, i look at her annoyed and with a pointed look.

"I'm a special investigator." Will says looking at the body still "Never been an F.B.I. Agent?" she asks in a tone of disbelief. "Strict screening procedures." I say for Will, "Detects instability. He unstable?" she asks me, Jack Crawford hurries in, as annoyed with The woman as Will and I are. " you Know You're not supposed to be in here." Jack says as he looks towards the woman, her badge says Beverly Katz, "Found antler velvet in two of the wounds. Like she was gored. Was looking for velvet in the other wounds but I was interrupted." Beverly says now looking towards Me and Will. Brian Zeller is now standing next to Will. "Deer and elk pin their prey, put all their weight on the antlers and try to suffocate them. That's how they would kill a fox or a coyote." Zeller says in a know-it-all tone. Me and Will very subtilely retreats from the conversation. "Elise Nichols was strangled and suffocated. Ribs were broken." Jack says stating the facts everyone in the room already knows.

"It's not rutting season. Male deer aren't competing for female deer this time of year." Zeller says thinking, "Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing. He may have put it there on purpose." Will says turning towards the group, "You think he wanted to heal her?" Jack asks Will and I, "He was trying to undo as much as he could, given he already killed her." i say following Wills train of thought yet again. "He put her back where he found her." Jack says looking at us, "Whatever he did to the others, he couldn't do it to her." Will says softly and staring off, "Is this his Golden Ticket?" Jack asks looking at Elise's cold dead body, i shake my head and turn to the group "No. This is an apology." i say softly and sad The "apology" catches in My throat and hangs in the air. Will runs his hand over his forehead and takes a deep breath. "Does anyone have any Aspirin?" Will asks, disassociating.

F.B.I HEADQUARTERS, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA  ~NEXT DAY~

Will stands over a sink, splashing water on his face, rattled. Will pats his face dry with paper towels as Jack enters, impatient, having been looking for Will for some time. "What are you doing in here?" jack asks obviously upset "I enjoy the smell of urinal cake." Will says not looking at Jack, and leaning on the sink. "Me, too. Lets talk." Jack says as he points to the door and walks to his office with  Me already being in there. Will eyes Jack as he enters Jack closes the door, realizing he's not getting by without conversation. "Do you respect my judgement, Will?" Jack asks Will, Will looks down  "Yes." he says looking up at me, he has dark circles under his eyes he obviously didnt have the best night. "We have a better chance of catching this guy if you Two are in the saddle." Jack says pointedly at us "I'm in the saddle. Just confused which direction I'm pointing." Will says, i cant help but agree with his statement.  "I don't know this kind of psychopath. Never read about him. I don't even know if he's a psychopath. He's not insensitive. He's not shallow." i say as i start pacing, thinking. Just because i am a psychiatrist doesn't mean i don't need one myself.

"You could tell something about him or you wouldn't've said this was an apology. What's he apologizing for?" Jack says towards Me, Will joins me in my pacing " He Couldn't honor her. He feels bad." Will says flustered and a little upset. " Well Feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn't it?" Jack says angrily "Yes. It does." Will growls back "Then what kind of crazy is he Y/n?" Jack yells at Me, I take a shaky deep breath "He couldn't show her he loved her so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever crazy that is." I say looking at Jack, as I and subsequently Will stop pacing. "You think he loves these girls?" Jack says confused "He loves one of them, and I think by association, he has some form of love for the others." Will says quickly and with a emotion i couldn't say. "There was no semen or saliva. Elise Nichols died a virgin and she stayed that way." Jack says He probably think we Mean love in a sexual or romantic way. but no thats what sets me off "That's not how he's loving them. He wouldn't disrespect them that way. He doesn't want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and, to his thinking, with mercy." I say angrily and with anxiety. "A sensitive psychopath. He risked getting caught to tuck Elise Nichols back into bed." Jack says putting together what Me and Will are saying. "He has to take the next girl soon. He knows he's going to get caught. One way or the other." Will says looking at me. I leave Jacks office Will trailing behind me, he grabs my arm and turns me to look at him. Will looks at me, his eyes tired and dull but still beautiful in a haunting way. His mind is a complicated, sometimes impossible puzzle. But that's what made him so good at what he does. Will can see things, make connections that other people can't. He's not afraid to look into the ugly parts of himself or others. And he's not afraid of the darkness of life. He knows that he has to go there sometimes. And he is brave enough, and humble enough, to admit when he needs help. I look Will in the eyes and for the first time in a long time i feel Ok looking into someones eyes. "I'm sorry for my outburst in there" i say in a calm and kind tone giving him a sweet and genuine smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." Will said with a warm smile, he was very forgiving. "Jack doesn't fully understand How we think  but we have to work with him." he said, he would always find some way to make a situation better.

i chuckle as i start walking towards the Examination room and lab My heels clicking behind me as i walk. "that we do. You know its kinda nice having someone understand the way my mind works" i say smiling  Will follows behind Me, His footsteps echoing Mine. "It makes things easier." Will says with a  genuine smile. "We can help each other, and work together like this. I like being able to be myself with you." He continues, I look at him with a smile and a curious look "And how do you act with others Will" i ask still smiling happily. "Different." His smile fades away for a second, he looks away from me before continuing his sentence. "Most people i work with don't want to see me completely unmasked. Especially because they don't understand. But you. You do understand. And i like that." he says with a soft smile, He likes how he could talk openly with me.  "I feel the same. You know its always difficult trying to explain to people. but with you its easier i guess" i smile sweetly and continue walking, "Being understood is the most valuable thing." Will says looking at me, "i mean it really is. when people can understand you without you having to explain, its beautiful. and its very difficult, very rare. but with you Y/n I have that." He continues, smiling as we reached our destination. I smile, as my stomach fills with butterflies as we walk into the room.

F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY

Beverly Katz and Brian Zeller hover over the examination table as Jimmy Price continues to UNZIP the BODY BAG, all wearing gloves, aprons and splash visors. "Tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck." Jimmy says looking at the body "Report say anything about nails?" Beverly asks Price, raising her eyebrow. "Her fingernails were smudged when we took scrapings. The scrapings were where she cut her palms with them. She never scratched him." Zeller says looking at the report "Curly piece of metal is all we got." Beverly says as she looks over and see's Me and Will enter the room smiling, she starts smirking. "We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool-workers." Will says absently his breathing is amplified in his ears as it fogs his vision. He takes a breath and forces himself to look in the bag. There is no body, only darkness. And the sound of Will's breath bouncing off the splash visor. Elise Nichols She stands naked in that darkness, a deathly pallor. ANTLERS SPROUT LIKE BRANCHES from her WOUNDS. Tiny CRIMSON STREAMS defy gravity, climbing antlers and floating upward in beads. Will snaps back to reality: As before. Zeller, Katz, Price continue their examination.

"Other injuries were probably but not conclusively postmortem. So not gored." Zeller says that last part pointed towards Beverly. "She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there." Beverly says, I look up at Will and he nods once again saying that he knows what I'm thinking "She was mounted on them. Like hooks. She may have been bled." i say looking at the body Beverly and Jimmy glance at Will and I. Brian Zeller is too distracted by his investigation of the abdominal wound. "Her liver was removed. He took it out and put it back in. See."  Zeller says pointing to the liver of Elise Nichols, it has sutures in it.  Price looks confused "Why cut out her liver if he was just going to sew it back in again?" Jimmy asks confused, All muscle tone in Will's face goes slack. i look at him, realizing what he just did. "Something was wrong with the meat." Will states swallowing hard, Zeller looks up from the liver -- with a look that says 'how did Graham know?' "She has liver cancer." Zeller states in disbelief The facts briefly ricochet around in my mind and probably Will's too, then: "He's um- He's eating them." i say, then cover my mouth with my hand, then placing it right below my neck on my collarbone. F.B.I. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

Will and I sit with  Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Jack Crawford. "Tell me then, how many confessions?" Dr. Lecter asks Jack, "Twelve dozen last time I checked. None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols' body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddy Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com." Jack says annoyed, Me and Will both roll our eyes at the so called journalists name. "Tasteless." Will says, i couldn't agree more. "Do you have trouble with taste?" Dr. Lecter asks Me and Will, "Our thoughts are often not tasty." I say, that's an understatement. "Nor mine. No effective barriers." Dr. Lecter smiles at Me and Will "I Build forts." will says raising his eyebrows and tilting his head and taking a sip of his coffee. "Associations come quickly." Dr. Lecter says nonchalantly passing me a cup of coffee. I nod my head as a thank you "So do forts." I say before taking a sip of the coffee, Dr. Lecter notices Will  and I avoiding looking anyone but each other in the eye.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Dr. Lecter asks us, Me and Will sigh as we unapologetically continue to avoid eye contact. "Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don't see enough." Will says as he rolls his eyes " That and it's hard to focus when you're thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein?" I say looking into Dr. Lecter's eyes for a second, Dr. Lecter isn't deflected from making our observations. "I imagine what you two see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." Dr. Lecter has just described Will and I to a letter, but We are not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. I realize something and i guess Will does too. "Whose profile are you working on?" Will asks Dr. Lecter pointedly, "Whose profile is he working on?" I ask Jack angrily. "I'm sorry, Dr. Y/n, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off." Dr. Lecter says sincerely, I cant believe this Jack is having Me and Will psycho-analyzed, Will doesn't appreciate the intrusion into his psyche and neither do I.

"Please don't psychoanalyze Us. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing. Lets go Y/n." He scoots out of his chair and grabs my hand and we exit the room, leaving Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford alone in the office.

MINNESOTA FIELD - THE NEXT MORNING

Will, Jack and I step over the police tape and look at the crime scene in front of us "The head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here."Jack says briefing us Will tilts his head in confusion "Just the head?" he asks Brian Zeller, Beverly Katz, and Jimmy Price are combing the immediate area for forensic evidence. Jack, Will and I stare as Beverly and Brian Zeller attempt to shoo the crows away."Minneapolis homicide has already made a statement. "They're calling him the 'Minnesota Shrike.'" Jack says raising his eyebrows "Like the bird?" I ask confused  "Shrike's a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Puts them in a little birdie pantry and eats them later. At its leisure." Zeller says morbidly, i furrow my brows and purse my lips. This Wasn't Our Killers Work.  "Sounds about right." Beverly exclaims, Jack shakes his head "Can't tell if it's sloppy or shrewd." He says tensing his Jaw, "He wanted her to be found this way. It's the homicidal equivalent of fecal smearing. It's petulant. I almost feel like he's mocking her. Or he's mocking us." Will says, i nod my head agreeing.

"Where'd all his love go?" Jack asks as Me and Will crouch beside the body. "Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture." I say solemnly, i almost lose my balance but Will puts his hand on the small on my back to keep me steady. I look up at him and smile. Brian Zeller looks up from Cassie's mounted corpse. "He took her lungs. I think she was still alive when he cut them out" Zeller says, i frown looking away from Will and back at the bodies Jack Crawford and Brian Zeller stand over the table that is CASSIE'S BODY. Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price work nearby. "Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them. He wants to consume them. Keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought she was a pig." I say shaking my head, "You think this is a copy cat?" jack ask Me and Will, Will and I take in the open field, considering the stage. "I don't know. Cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in field Kabuki. He has a house or two, or a cabin. Something with an antler room." Will says in annoyed tone but has determination on his face. "We're already looking at Minnesota steamfitters and plumbers and people with hunting licenses." Jack says, I realize something

"He has a daughter. Same age as the other girls. Same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight. She's an only child. She's leaving home. He can't stand the thought of losing her. She's his Golden Ticket." I say walking off with Will heading to the rental car "What about the Copy Cat?" Jack asks "An intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is hard to catch. There's no traceable motive. There'll be no patterns. He may never kill like this again." Will says annoyed with Jack. Will  turns and crosses under the POLICE TAPE, tossing back: "Have Dr. Lecter work up a psychological profile. You seem to be impressed with his opinion." I snort at Wills remark

MINNEAPOLIS MOTEL ROOM -  NEXT MORNING

Will wraps a robe around himself as he shuffles to the door of his and my shared Motel room. wiping the fresh sleep out of his eyes. He opens the door revealing Hannibal Lecter standing outside holding Three cups,a thermos and a small thermal food storage bag. I sit up in my bed rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and go to the door where will is standing. "Good morning, Will. Good morning, Y/n. May I come in?" Hannibal says as Me and just Will stare at him. "Where's Crawford?" Will asks Hannibal "Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours, mine, and Y/n's today. May I come in?" Hannibal asks once again, me and will step out of his way as he heads towards the small table in the room. A beautifully presented breakfast for three served on tupperware containers on top of place settings. Freshly brewed coffee is poured into the three cups Hannibal carried.  Hannibal peels lids off the tupperware dishes. "I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage." Hannibal says passing Me and Will our food. Hannibal watches Will and I take a bite of our breakfast scramble. "It's delicious. Thank you" I say, it truly is delicious.

"My pleasure." Hannibal smiles, He is genuinely amused and successfully hides it. "I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Hannibal say in a tone i just cant put a finger on. "Just keep it professional." Will says, I look at him with confusion as he looks at Hannibal with pointed eyes. "Or we could socialize like adults,god forbid we become friendly." Hannibal smirks at will, i chuckle. "I don't find you that interesting." Will states nonchalantly, "You will. Agent Crawford tells me you two have a knack for the monsters." Hannibal says, I smirk as i take another bite of my breakfast. "I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field." I say after swallowing that bite of food, "The devil is in the details. What didn't your Copy Cat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?" Hannibal asks i shake my head "Everything. It's like he had to show us a negative so we could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." I say wiping my eyes and taking a sip of coffee, "The mathematics of human behavior. All those ugly variables. Some bad math with this shrike fellow. Are you reconstructing his fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?" Hannibal asks curiously, "He has a few." Will says almost with a wink:

"Ever have any problems, Will?" Hannibal asks looking over at Will "No." he responds softly and annoyed, "Of course you don't. You Two and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about. I think Uncle Jack sees you as a pair of fragile little tea-cups, the finest china used for only special guests." Hannibal states, Me and Will  laugh and lean back and look at him with curiosity "How do you see me?" Will asks curious as to what the answer is, "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Hannibal responds "and Me?" i ask "You Y/n are the beautiful butterfly that needs to stay protected, otherwise when in danger the butterfly will die. Finish your breakfast." Hannibal says gazing at me

RENTAL CAR - DAY - Will throws the car into park and begins to unbuckle his seat belt when he notices Hannibal smiling."what are you smiling about?" Will asks Hannibal raising one of his eyebrows, "Peeking behind the curtain. Curious how the FBI goes about its business when it isn't kicking in doors." Hannibal replies smiling, i let out a relieved sigh as i unbuckle my seat belt "We're lucky we're not doing house to house interviews. We found a little piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader." I say, shrugging "Must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota." Hannibal points out, Will shakes his head "Certain kinda metal. Certain kinda pipe. Certain kinda pipe coating.So we're looking at construction sites that use that kinda pipe." Will sighs, "And what are we looking for?" Hannibal asks curious "At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar." I say getting out of the car and head towards the trailer office. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter step out of the rental car and cross towards the trailer office  following behind me.

CAMPER TRAILER OFFICE - DAY -

flustered, mildly suspicious secretary named DIXIE stares at Will, Hannibal, and I leafing through pages as she talks on she phone in an ineffective hushed tone. "Two fellas  and a chick from the F.B.I. They're going through drawers now. Putting papers in file boxes. Yes. They're taking things. No. They didn't say whe -- Yes, they can. what did you say your names were?" The secretary asks wearily Just then, Will finds a resignation letter of note. "Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will asks in a questioning tone "One of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job. I'll call you back." The secretary Dixie says as  she   hangs up the phone and scoots out from around her desk. "Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?" I ask placing my hands on my hips looking at the woman "Might have." the woman says suspiciously, I eye her analyzing her every move and noise. "Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chaffed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair. About this tall." Will continues questioning her "Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people." she rolls her eyes and sits back down at her desk.

"What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?" Hannibal asks Will as he looks over at us, "Left a phone number. No address." Will responds, i look over his shoulder at the file "Therefore he has something to hide?" Hannibal asks, Will shrugs not putting too much weight on the matter. "Everyone else left an address. You have an address for Mr. Hobbs?" I ask the secretary, Will, Hannibal and I haul file boxes from the make-shift office building to the trunk of their rental car. Hannibal allows himself to knock a box out of the trunk, scattering papers. Will and I stoop to pick them up. "I got it." Will says squatting down with me to start picking up papers. As Will and I pick up the pages, Hannibal returns to the make shift office Hannibal waits as the door hinges closed and latches with a CLICK, watching Y/n and Will clean up the mess he made. Satisfied, Hannibal picks up the phone with a Tissue. "You don't know me and I suspect we'll never meet. This is a courtesy call. Listen very carefully. Are you listening? They Know." Hannibal says

HOBBS HOUSE - CAR - DAY -

Will pops an Aspirin behind the wheel of the rental car. Lector and I unbuckle our seatbelts. Will thinks a moment before getting out. Hannibal smiles, a hint of excitement. Will and I walk purposefully to the front door,  Will is trying his best not to look uncomfortable. Hannibal purposefully lags behind. Will and I are halfway to the door when it suddenly opens: LOUISE HOBBS Bleeding and wheezing, she is shoved down the porch steps in a heap, the door slamming shut behind her. Me and Will rush to DYING LOUISE HOBBS. Her alabaster skin in sharp contrast to the crimson pouring out of it. Multiple wounds puncture her torso and arms. She grasps haltingly for Us, streaking Me and Him with her blood. Her cold hand clutches My wrist as her body spasms. She's already gone and Will knows this and I know this. He pries her slick, red fingers from My wrist, trying not to see the last flickers of pain and fear exiting her face.

Will smashes into the door with everything he's got. It's hard to say whether the sickening crack was from his shoulder or the its wood frame. He gives it a well-placed kick, and another, splintering it little-by-little until he and I can stumble INSIDE.  Hannibal strolls casually up the walk, barely glancing at the lifeless body of Louise Hobbs stepping deliberately over it. He pauses in the broken doorway, listening closely. The wild-eyed contrast to Dr. Lector, Will and I work our way from room to room, guns first. Adrenaline allows Us to ignore the splatters of blood defacing the walls and floors. "Garret Jacob Hobbs? F.B.I." I yell pointing my gun Me and Will stop cold at the sight before us as we move  into the kitchen Garrett Jacob Hobbs behind his DAUGHTER, ABIGAIL, slashing at her throat. The wide-eyed girl has her weight against him, chin tucked down, gasping for air. TIME SLOWS TO A CRAWL as the SOUND YIELDS to the AMBIENT NOISE of My circulatory system. Will raises his pistol. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. He fires into Hobbs's exposed upper chest, one after another. Hobbs doesn't go down. I drop to my knees and go to help Abigail, putting pressure on the wound. Will keeps shooting. BLAM. BLAM. With one last deep cut, Hobbs finally falls. Hannibal steps into the kitchen, his inscrutable expression suddenly registering genuine pity and regret as he sees ABIGAIL HOBBS Her struggle to breath underscored by the WHEEZE of air through her slashed wind-pipe. I apply pressure to the wounds, scooping Abigail onto My lap. Will now beside me trying to help me with abigail looks up to see: GARRET JACOB HOBBS He hisses at Will Graham through dying, jagged breath. "See? See?" he whispers, Will's eyes are glazed. He's shutting down. Behind him: Hannibal moves swiftly to Abigail, addressing her wounds as she stares at her dying father even as her own life ebbs. I gently raise her glassy eyes to My own as Hannibal works. Will doesn't look away. And neither do I.

HOSPITAL - PATIENT ROOM - NEXT MORNING -

Will enters to find Abigail Hobbs integrated into an elaborate weave of life-saving technology. sleeping in a chair next to her bed is HANNIBAL LECTER. and in another Y/n. us both holding one of her hands, offering a tiny comfort. Will Graham quietly sits in the empty chair next to Y/n watching their unconscious care for the girl they all saved.

[tirfpikachu]

as someone who has a complete distrust of anyone who labels themselves as radfems since they seem to be (at least a loud minority on every platform) straight up right-wing and racist, thank you for reminding me that some of yall are sane and normal. i don't consider myself a radical feminist by any means and i still dont want to touch the radfem community w a 10ft pole (im a transmasc lesbian of colour... i just cant trust it) but its cool to know theres some people who are normal over there. rock on

THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! I RARELY GET SUPPORT FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE TUNGLR BORDER SO I TRULY REALLY APPRECIATE IT 🙏 this made me smile so much!

i really am trying very hard to build my lil corner of radblr and encourage nuance, as well as fighting bigotry and tradwife type shit within radfem spaces! i'm trying to make people realize that all marginalized folks can learn to be better allies to one another, while still acknowledging afab/female-specific oppression & celebrating all kinds of gayness, including exclusive same-sex (agab) attraction; aka what's traditionally been called homosexuality. i want to welcome everyone who directly faces or has faced misogyny irl into complex feminist discussions in good faith without aggression, without slurs or unnecessary personal attacks. i want radfem/nuancefem talks to involve terms like male/female as purely sex-based terms like amab/afab, and for trans men to not be any less of a man in society just bc they're female, and ofc for trans women to be as much my sisters as any cis/bio woman so long as they still recognize their male/amab upbringing, and show equal respect to me & my specific struggles as a female person. i have had incredible talks with all kinds of folks in my server! from transmasc radfems to the most wonderful transfem allies, and some folks who add intersex/DSD nuance to our conversations. i don't believe in misgendering, slurs, or anything of the sort to do anything other than harm ppl who struggle with a very debilitating disorder, dysphoria, one that i struggled with for years and years. that's not the way to help anyone! we do still need more open talks about detransition, and plans on how to prevent even more detransitioners, since there really is a higher number of detrans cases than ever before. people who now, like me, struggle with reverse dysphoria and often need expensive procedures. i also want us to talk about transfem experiences, and just gnc male experiences in general, not just to offer support but also learn more about the intricacies of the patriarchy which is essential for my specific brand of radical feminism. i've nicknamed it as tirfism, or me being a nuancefem - a feminist who is against the way mainstream feminism & qweer activism is currently handling female-specific and homosexual issues, and aims to foster nuance on complex topics!

there are more of us than you'd ever imagine, and we're finally managing to find eachother. i highly recommend reading through @pokegyns for more nuanced takes from my lovely server friends. i believe trans voices are essential to nuancefeminism and tirfism, and i'm very blessed to have lovely transmasc & transfem mods on my server. they provide fascinating insights that we really need right now. it's also very comforting to know that there are nuanced trans people in the modern world... sometimes it feels like the lgbt community is completely close-minded to discussions of female-specific oppression and homosexuality. but that actually isn't the case! i think there's a lot of discomfort going around feminist & lgbtq communities, and it's reaching the boiling point. so long as people like you anon are out there willing to research and learn more about non-transphobic, anti-conservative radical feminism and dispell myths about us, i know we will be alright in the end and a bridge between all the marginalized communities is still possible in the near future if we keep working on it. thank you so much for reaching out!!

[roguetelepaths]

so like, unpopular opinion or whatever, but as someone who struggles with both deeply disturbing intrusive thoughts AND less severe ones that are just kind of a nuisance I fucking hate this take, for the simple reason that the line between "fun quirky tiktok disorder" and "person with the same problems you have suffering less than average sometimes and choosing to be lighthearted about it" is not yours to draw.

it is not "tiktokification" to say that the mechanism that made me spend a large portion of December 2020 vividly imagining myself putting my cat in the oven and the mechanism that persistently goes "what if you put lime salt in your coffee" every morning are the same damn mechanism and the way it presents is heavily dependent on how much stress I'm under.

I think every kind of mental distress a person can experience exists on a continuum from just annoying to actively disturbing/harmful and I really do not think people talking about the less severe intrusive thoughts they experience on a given day should always have to be like "oh, just so you know I have a right to call it this, I also have real big boy intrusive thoughts about rape and murder" every time they want to vent about how annoying the less severe end of their particular experience is.

[i-need-some-advice-on]

I have a sweet friend whom I love very much. But as the years go by I'm becoming less and less sure that our morals and politics align. I'm scared of losing them but I'm also worried about the resentment that I'm slowly developing for them. Does anyone know how to deal with this kind of thing?

For context, my friend is studying to become a psychologist. In the past, I used to have the same opinions about therapy that most people in the majority demographic do - that "Therapy is good and psychiatry is a good and altruistic field, and if a bad therapist hurts someone then it's just that individual practitioner being a bad apple."

But I have a PD diagnosis, I've had previous (bad, as you can imagine) experiences with therapy. And I mean EXTREMELY bad, it threatened my safety in an abusive household and I was also in risk of forced institutionalisation once (That one was related to depression a lot more than any PD just to be clear.)

And as I educate myself more and talk to other people who were in similar situations, i get more and more anti-psych with time. It's not really a Few Bad Apples situation if the therapist(s) who hurt us were technically doing their exact job description and were actually adhering to their regulations. I have developed a huge mistrust for psychologists and therapists and like 50% of it is a knee-jerk personal trauma reaction and the other 50% is genuinely getting more socially conscious and knowing that I'd be treated even worse in a whiter country (which my friend is.)

They also tell me things about their actual psychology classes and every fact I learn unsettles me more. Their classes, teachers and entry level career paths are ALARMINGLY blasé, unprofessional and unethical than what you'd expect from such a serious profession.

My friend is a good person btw I am fully sure they're trying so hard to stay ethical and genuine even when their classes/grades literally inventivize them not to be. I know they're that one person in class who goes all in to make an original presentation while everyone who copied off the internet gets an A. But I just feel sad about how far this can really go, it's like seeing someone genuinely try to be a good cop.

I have known this person for a few years and I see them as a LIFELONG friend, I want to hang out with them when we're old and boring. But I just don't know if I will ever be okay with their education and future career, sometimes I'm actively scared of what their psychiatry books must have told them about people like me. Again, my friend has repeatedly reassured me that they're one of the good ones that don't hate or discrimate against certain disorders but I still believe it's a systematic issue. I'm scared of watching them turn into something else but at the same time I don't want to lose them. I also don't think I have any right to tell them what to do with their own life.

All my opinions about psychology here were purely to give you an exact idea of what I'm talking about! I don't want to start any discourse about the anti psych movement on this blog because that's not its purpose (thanks for this space btw op <3) I just didn't want people to assume that my friend was a right winger or something, and that's the only thing it sounds like if I leave it in vague terms. What do I do? Has anyone ever been in this kind of situations with a friend's beliefs and what did you do about it?

.

[hopepunk-humanity]

First, I'm really glad that I found your tumblr. You respond to anons with very personal & intimate asks with a lot of gentleness, which warms my heart to see. I also kind of have an experience I want to put out there: I know I want to reach out and help people bc i think our system is super unfair, but people scare me. It's hard for me to imagine having a big community, but I feel like I need a big community to make a difference...ive been too embarrassed to admit this to anyone

Oh no, don't be embarrassed, I've been stuck with the same thing as someone with social anxiety disorder and no license (which makes it difficult to attend anything more than a 20 minute walk away). It is harder to do community-action things, but not impossible, I think.

In truth, I don't know how much I can advise on this, considering I haven't been able to step much into that world myself. And there is only so much you can do as an individual.

I don't think you necessarily need a big community to get useful things done, though. Even a group of a half dozen can do some significant good. I'm thinking of the UNICEF club I'm in, which has about 8 active members, but we consistently raise around 1k USD every year. It's not a dramatic figure, it's not going to end the systemic issue that spurred UNICEF's existence in the first place, but it makes a difference to the people who ultimately benefit from those funds. And that's less than ten people, doing the work between classes, jobs, and general life.

And to work around being afraid of people, I think it helps to remember you're wanted. Especially in work like this, the more people who show up, the more gets done, and the easier the goals are to achieve. Maybe you won't necessarily befriend the others, but you're also unlikely to end up scrutinized and rejected unless there's a legitimate reason you shouldn't be there.

The thing about making a difference is that it's gradual, like building a sandcastle a few grains at a time. It may seem insurmountable on your own, but if dozens of small groups keep working at it consistently, it eventually gets done. It's just not flashy or feel-good, so you don't hear about it. But we get there nonetheless.

[theguardianoftheangels]

~BASIC INFO~

Full name:Lisa Igoravna Agafonovisch(Russian middle name uses their father name with suffix-avna for girls)

Nickname(s):Lis,Liz,Lizzy,Demon's Spawn,Armageddon

Creepypasta name:N/A

How Did They Get This Name and Why:N/A

Gender:female

Age:6(at the first story arc),17(at the second story arc),24(currently)

Date of birth:June 18th,1999

Place of birth:Kyzyl,Russia

Race/Species(nationality):Russian

Native language:Russian(but her first language is English)

Language spoken:Russian,English

Orientation/Sexual preference:Omnisexual

Zodiac sign:Gemini

Religion:N/A

Occupation(before becoming a Pasta):Highschool student,anonymous volunteer 

Are they dead(if yes,how'd they die?Place and Date of Death?):N/A

~MEDICAL INFO~

Blood type:A

Mental disorder(s):slightly eating disorder 

Phobia(s):autophobia

Allergies:mustard

Habits:draw something she cannot explain,imagining scenarios when faced with a situation she cannot solve

Power/Special Abilities:Soul-manipulate the death(that died atleast a decade back)for a minute approximately to restrain/confuse or mess with her target's mind.

-Her demon form(contains the changing of red eyes and dark demonic claws)only appears during uncontrolled emontions burst or unconsciousness and her strenght then increase the power of soul manipulation to living organism

~APPEARANCE~

Height:5'5"

Weight:127lbs

Hair color:light brown

Hairstyle:worn past shoulder,curtain bangs with slight messy hair

Eye color:carribean blue

Piercings/Tattoos:N/A

Scars/Weird Marking(s):three long scars on the middle back,two on the belly and one small in the left thing

Birthmark:N/A

Skin:beige color tone

Clothing/Style:black and white inside dress,yellow stripped green short sleeves knitted sweater,black socks and combat boots,black gloves

Jewelry/Accessories:weird relic symbol necklace

Scent:if you have a strong sense of smell,you can feel the scent of cigars and fresh citrus lemon coming from her

Weapon(s):N/A

Physical Disorder/Disability:doesn't have normal human ears but is replaced by feline ears,that also goes along with the tail

Never seen without:her relic necklace

~PERSONALITY~

Overall:an INFP-meaning  she is  thoughtful, loyal,honest, imaginative and tends to be quieter and less outgoing than others.Her reserved nature, however, should not be mistaken for a lack of concern or interest in her surroundings. Internally, she  have a deep inner world, but tend to keep it to herself.When you get to know her better,she can suprise you with how pessimistic her point of view in life is and not to mention,her dark sense of humor

Likes:smoking,cinnamon bubblegum,lemonade, lime pie,the sound of rain/storm,drawing,dark jokes,wool balls,green and yellow color,collecting pond creatures(frogs,ducks-if can,dragonflies,.etc)

Dislikes:Mustard,cucumbers,scratching nails on chalkboard/balloons/gunshot or loud noises(since her cat ears are more sensitive that that of humans),pink color,sunny days,Zalgo,feeling useless/can't be helpful,swimming

Hobbies:drawing,humming tunes of the song she can't remember while doing chores,observing the forest activities,counting rain patterns

Most Prized Possession(s):the knitted sweater,even though she wore it for a long time,she wouldn't throw it away.That and the big shirt the girls give her that she used as pjm

Flaws:indecisive,prone to daydreaming and easy to be distracted,self-critical and overly sensitive sometimes

Pet Peeve:loud noises

Worst And Best Way To Kill:"I don't know much about the ways of killing so i am not one to judge"-Lisa

Targets To Killing:doesn't normally kill people but will do if pushed to edge

Crush/Love Interest: Hoodie

Love Song:"Backyard Boy" by Claire Rosinkranz

Theme Song:Sudno-Molchat Doma

[b-b-b-b-bones]

Hi! Hi! I haven't updated this blog in almost two years and I haven't rewatched Bones in even longer but I just listened to the Boneheads trailer and almost cried hearing Emily and Carla's voices so yeah I'll absolutely be doing a rewatch along with them and giving this blog some love again! How do I still have over 800 followers, why did you all not abandon me when I went inactive, why am I questioning this? Hi! I'm so glad to see you all again!

So some updates, I'm a gamer now, I'm obsessed with video games. I even started a Let's Play YouTube channel a few months ago (shameless plug shameless plug). I dabble in many different genres, but relevant here, did you know there's this thing called detective games? Where you play a detective and can solve murder mysteries like Booth and Brennan do, but yourself? I freakin love 'em. The Zero Escape visual novel series is one of my favorites, and @lightphieric is my dedicated sideblog to those games.

Fair warning that I feel I am a bit more... socially conscious, I guess you could say, than I was when I was last active. I'm still very willing to revisit Bones from an uncomplicated place of love and chalk a lot of things up to being a product of their time, but at the same time I find myself with a lot less patience for glorified depictions of law enforcement (to the point where I might have to change this blog's avatar, sorry Bobblehead Bobby!).

I'm also a lot more educated when it comes to issues of neurodivergence and mental illness, when it comes to both recognizing and understanding my own neurodivergence (I have autism, avoidant personality disorder, depression and anxiety) and learning about conditions that I don't have but which fall under the same brain-weird umbrella. I am so so SO excited to come back to the absolutely impeccable neurodivergent energy of the main cast of Bones, but I am also bracing myself to see and call out a lot of the demonization of people with mental illnesses that is typical of the crime genre. I have come to realize that the field of criminal profiling is, as a whole, utter ableist bullshit, and while I still love Sweets as, like, a character and a guy, I hate his job and can imagine myself getting mad at him a lot.

All that aside, I am so excited for this podcast and this rewatch and can only imagine it being a primarily positive experience. Welcome back to the blog! (And feel free to reach out if you wanna talk or anything, I was pretty resistant to making fandom friends before but my time in the Zero Escape fandom has loosened me up in that regard.)

[diedbrave]

Things that have come up in the past two IT chapters (Ben Hanscom Takes a Fall and Bill Denbrough Beats the Devil) that are less head canons, and more things that I want to like remind people of that I absolutely play up in my version of Eddie.

Eddie is absolutely a cry baby. I know in the new movies we don't really see him cry much, instead he tends to cover it up with anger. But my Eddie loves to cry. He is literally referred to as the weeper in Ben's chapter before he knows Eddie's name, so. When my Eddie gets frustrated, he's going to cry. He might cuss about it a little and try to cover it up, but he's soft.

Eddie is into mechanical things. I definitely think he would be a great car mechanic if it wasn't for the grease and germs of it all, so I imagine he does that stuff as a hobbyist. He's the one who basically makes Silver fully functioning, and Bill praises how good he is at fixing things up. Let's not forget this is such a part of Eddie's character, especially since we don't really get that in any of the movie renditions.

Eddie goes to the emergency room twice a week. There's a line in the novel that says that Sonia should start paying rent to the orderlies, with how often her and Eddie spend in the hospital. My Eddie tries to go to a hospital as a very last resort nowadays because he spent so much time there as a child that it's an easily triggering place.

More head canon or popular assumption, but I think we are all pretty aware Eddie doesn't actually have asthma. I'd argue (though it isn't downright stated) that what he is having are panic attacks. I think he still has physical symptoms - tight chest, hard to breathe, etc. - but it always happens when he's in moments of genuine panic. You cannot tell me that Eddie Kaspbrak isn't diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or even Panic Disorder.

This is more head canon, and I'd have to talk to my lovely girlfriend to see if she agrees, but Eddie is the only Loser actively allowed to talk about Georgie. I say this because it really seems that Eddie is the only Loser that really knew Georgie on a personal level, and Eddie approaches Ben once Bill leaves the barrens and basically lectures him about never bringing up Georgie around Bill. I think this last part is obvious, but it's the fact that Eddie is the one giving this information (which is kind of protective and really sweet). Eddie is also the only one to note that "Bill stuttered significantly less before Georgie died", so as the only one that truly knows Bill prior to all these incidents....I just have lots of opinions on that and that's why I ship Kaspbrough, okay?

Eddie has low esteem. I think all the Losers obviously do, but it really hit me when Ben says "you guys are really cool" and Eddie gets this look on his face and says something along the lines of, "Yeah, well, Bill is." This of course plays into his hero-worshipping of Bill, but Eddie will never see himself as anything more than the asthmatic hypchondriac loser, and even though I'd argue they reclaim the word loser to be a good thing, Eddie still struggles with seeing himself as anything remotely cool.

[robin-the-blind-sniper-rifle]

So I’ve been thinking about something in terms of character mental health recently, particularly Nancy’s mental health and how I feel it largely gets ignored in general. This is something that’s been happening since season one so it’s not a new occurrence.

Anyway, I genuinely think Nancy has bipolar II. As someone who’s been diagnosed with bipolar II, it’s nothing like the stigmatization of bipolar that you see plastered all over media. It’s often misdiagnosed as major depressive disorder, although sometimes those come hand in hand.

Bipolar II is usually characterized by hypomanic episodes, not manic episodes. What this means is that hypomanic episodes are usually characterized less by what you’d expect of manic episodes, but more so symptoms like this:

Decreased need for sleep

Excessive spending

Flying quickly from one idea to another

Hypersexuality

I ncreased energy or hyperactivity

Inflated self image

Making and pursuing unrealistic plans

Loud speech

Substance abuse

Now I’m not saying Nancy has all of these. I personally have only two of these. However, that doesn’t mean neither of us don’t have it. I was clinically diagnosed so I at least know I do. Anyway.

Bipolar II is also characterized by:

Depressed mood (persistent sadness)

Feelings of guilt or worthlessness

Loss of interest in pleasure or activities

Low energy and activity

Bipolar II in particular can often be brought on by severe trauma, and older children are genetically more likely to have it.

Now to Nancy. Someone tell me that this entire experience, from the very beginning, hasn’t caused her some kind of depression. She lost her only friend because of something she blames herself for, she’s nearly died several times, and her friends and family have nearly died several times. I can only imagine that’s a something she can’t exactly hide when she’s alone, or with Robin for that matter.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Nancy’s intense guilt also made her feel incredibly worthless to an extent. If she didn’t felt guilty over what happened with Barb, Vecna wouldn’t have used it as ammunition. While Nancy’s outward confidence is obviously still apparent, and while I don’t think she hates herself, there’s clearly something inside her that has her disliking parts of herself.

Nancy also is determined not to let herself be happy, not to experience pleasure. Why would she? The last time she did, it got someone killed. Better not to enjoy life and be prepared for the worst than to be caught off guard. The only times I’ve ever seen Nancy truly happy, seen that smile from the start of season one, is with Robin.

I’d like to explore this more later when I have more energy to do it, but I think Robin is perfect for helping Nancy through this, even with her own problems. Whether they’re friends or lovers (hopefully the latter), Robin is so fucking good for her and I hope they don’t take her away.

[puppyexpressions]

Can Dogs Get Seasonal Affective Disorder?

For dogs and humans, winter brings the fun of snowball fights and sports like skiing, but it also means fewer hours of daylight. And in people, that can lead to the winter blues or seasonal affective disorder (SAD), which is a type of depression with a seasonal pattern. Have you noticed your dog’s behavior change during the winter months?

As dogs share similar moods and brain chemistry with humans, it’s reasonable to think they might suffer from seasonal affective disorder, too. Read on to learn if the winter is getting your dog down and what you can do to prevent it.

Do Dogs Experience Seasonal Affective Disorder?

In humans, it’s thought that SAD results from the decreased amount of sunlight in the fall and winter. This can disrupt a person’s internal clock, lower our levels of serotonin (a brain chemical that regulates mood), and increase melatonin (a brain chemical released by the pineal gland that affects sleep). A study of sled dogs showed that the dogs’ melatonin levels were higher in the winter than in the summer, so perhaps dogs are susceptible to SAD, too.

However, there has yet to be a single study looking specifically at seasonal affective disorder in dogs. At this time, there is no scientific evidence that dogs get seasonal affective disorder (SAD) as described in humans, though dogs also have pineal glands in their brain. The pineal gland produces melatonin, a serotonin-derived hormone that modulates sleep patterns. In humans, some people produce higher amounts of melatonin than usual in winter months, so it may be conceivable that dogs have some changes in mood. But there is no way to objectively measure or diagnose this condition in dogs.

It is expected that if dogs do suffer from SAD, it would be more common in northern climates with shorter days. In humans, SAD is described more for people living in northern parts of the world rather than sunnier, warmer climates. One would therefore think that dogs living in the far northern climates, such as the sled working dogs would be the most affected, but no known reports or study confirms this. Perhaps because they are physically active and mentally involved.

What Could Cause a Dog to Get the Winter Blues?

Although there has been a lack of extensive research in this area, a recent survey found that many owners felt their pets become more depressed during the darker winter months. The dogs seemed to sleep more and were less active. Like all surveys, it was subjective and relied on the owner’s perceptions of their pets. So, it was anecdotal rather than scientific.

Of course, there are many explanations for the survey results. People could be projecting their own winter blues onto their pets. A recent study showed that dogs can recognize their owner’s moods and distinguish between positive and negative emotions. So, if their owner is feeling down or experiencing SAD, it’s not a stretch to imagine that could impact the dog’s own emotional state. Or perhaps owners provide their pets with less mental stimulation and physical exercise in the winter.

It’s hard to know if your dog is responding to your mood, reacting to your actions, or suffering from their own emotional problems. There could even be an underlying issue with their physical health. Therefore, you should not diagnose your dog with SAD on your own. There is no scientific evidence that dogs suffer from seasonal affective disorder. If a dog seems lethargic or off their feed, it is best to have them checked by a veterinarian to make sure there is not an underlying medical issue.

Ways to Keep Your Dog Happy and Healthy in the Winter

It’s important to provide for all your dog’s physical and emotional needs all year long. For example, take daily walks, play games together, or provide puzzle toys that will challenge your dog’s brain. Consider activities you can do inside on freezing cold days, such as scent work or a homemade agility course. Get outside with your dog and get some sunlight when possible. Find ways to stimulate your dog mentally as well as physically. And open the shades and get sunlight inside.

Although there are treatments for humans such as light therapy and vitamin D or omega-3 supplements, don’t try these on your dog without your vet’s say-so. In fact, vitamin D can be harmful. A dog being fed a well-balanced diet already receives the proper minerals and vitamins needed and should not need any supplements or additives. In fact, giving excessive vitamin D can be toxic to dogs, potentially causing fatal kidney damage as well as other medical problems. Omega-3 fatty acids have been reported to increase cognitive function but should be given on the advice of a veterinarian.

The easiest way to keep your dog happy through the winter is to be the best owner you can be. And that goes for the summer too. There is no scientific evidence that dogs suffer from seasonal affective disorder at this time. It is better to enrich our dogs’ lives through good care, proper, well-balanced nutrition, adequate exercise, and mental stimulation: not just during the winter months but all year long.

[starrbar]

Dude, asp3rgers is literally named after Hans Apserger, a Nazi. Just use Google my guy, you're using Nazi terminology, dickhead.

Imagine blaming someone for the name of their PROFESSIONAL DIAGNOSIS, my guy.

Like, does it occur to you that this is the most far removed you could ever get from "activism".

What made you wake up in the morning and come to me specifically, by the way? Have you been sending this to everyone else in the world who was told by a fucking doctor that they have a mental disorder called Asperger's that has done been a thing probably their whole lives, and telling them THEY are perpetuating bigotry by going on with their damn life and accepting the word they've been given for their condition?

Whaddaya want? Ya want me to frantically scurry to my Carrd to change the label? Would that make me less of a direct contributor to anti-Semitism?

Ehehehehehehe, here I was bitching about anti-kink fuckers when the internet has people like you misfiring their righteous anger so hard that you're mad at random mentally ill people for being oh... so, so ignorant to the catastrophic harm they're causing for not suspecting that the label they were given might be a Nazi term~!

You are the most self-important asshole I have ever seen, and that's saying a lot considering the shit I've witnessed online. I hope you're as miserable a person as this makes you sound, because my god, this is pathetic.

I did look it up btw, for anyone who is curious. It looks like anon is indeed correct about the origins of the name.

I still don't give a single pebble of my oddly blue shit because I am not fucking responsible for any of this.

Yes, my shit is blue right now because I ate some heavily-dyed cake yesterday. Yes, I loved adding that to my response to this person and their worthless take. Enjoy reading about my bowel status before I cast you into obscurity, as your next messages will be ignored unless you have the balls to come off anon about it.

Go fuck yourself. 💖

For everyone else:

Do I need to explain btw that if someone came to me in GOOD FAITH to inform me of the fact that a label I'm using may bring up terrible feelings for people because of its origins, I'd legit listen and go change it?

I probably will change it anyway because I identify more with "autism" (because I get to say "I have awootism" and that's hilarious—also I can just say "I'm autistic", but there doesn't seem to be a grammatical equivalent for Asperger's).

But this is not how you have a fucking conversation.

This is not how you inform innocent people of a dark history behind something they grew up with.

This person is not AT ALL concerned with me becoming a better person or being more sensitive to others or learning a lesson. This person JUST wants to take their own self-hatred out on some rando online, to make me feel guilty for shit I was unaware of, and to make themself feel superior in whatever desperate way they can.

I see right through this garbage because I witness it daily.

My brother and my closest high school friend were both diagnosed with Asperger's YEARS before I ever was. I grew up with this. I grew up proud to be this, because I recognized that it made me different from my peers in a way that would gain me discrimination and bullying, but that I could also have solidarity with the other kids who understood what it was like.

So.

Genuinely.

I will change the name for MYSELF, because of MY new experiences and information from my doctors.

And I will not rush to do so because I have better things to do with my time than sweat and panic over what some little insect thinks about my Carrd. I have a game to work on, a dog to let out, a job to go to, and a husband to cuddle. Oh, and of course, I gotta finish my replay of BotW so I can jump on TotK when my husband is done playing it! Priorities, hello! xP