#which is Never. his ass is not going to the psychiatrist he has other things to deal with

[thedevotionaltour]

matt would be a meds skipper i just know it. 90% intentional bc he feels like they don't work and 10% pure forgetfulness.

[oval3000]

Chapter 5

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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"Seriously, I'm talking to you and you're dismissing me!" Dr. Smith followed Mr. Miller trying to get off the elevator.

He turned around clenching his fist. His stared at her with pure hatred, "shut. Up. You are a psychiatrist! Do your dam fucking job and leave me out of it. The only way you get to talk to me is if it's work related not to fulfill your pathetic needs. If you're so desperate for sex? Get a dam husband!"

He left the elevator, leaving her shocked. He walked towards the nurse's station and saw you doing your work on the computer. He hasn't spoken to you after his attempt and neither have you. You avoided him like like the plague. After the comfort König gave you, you apologized for how inappropriate it was for a worker to get her personal feelings get in the way of work. He spoke to you with his thick accent, telling you that you're more than just his nurse. It really took you back at how wrong it was for you to have this sort of connection towards a patient. You had to keep your distance, even König made it a bit hard for you.

He's been more comfortable giving you physical touch by touching your cheek with his finger or tracing your hand with his. Even so, he's noticed the distance you made with him. He didn't enjoy it.

Everything has been complicated for you. Your co-wrokers wanted to know why Mr. Miller called you in his office. They were too curious about it and kept nagging you for an answer, but you told them that nothing happened. You wanted to march out those doors and never come back, but it means giving up your lifestyle you have sacrificed to live.

The heels of Dr. Smith came near you and the scent of her strong perfume lingered around you. "Check König's vitals."

"I already did." You pointed to the computer screen of König's last vital check.

She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes, her eyebrows form a sharp arch as her wrinkles showed more perfoundly, "and I'm asking you to do it again." You looked at back the computer, not staring at the screen perse, but just nothing. "Is there a problem (y/n)?"

"No." You got your supplies ready and went into König's room.

He was surprised you came in three times already and dinner time hasn't even passed. However, you're lonely visit was interrupted when Mr. Miller entered the room. He shut the door, which alarmed you. No, he wouldn't, he couldn't possibly, not infront of König, you thought.

"I think we need to talk." He said, watching you prepare to check König. You haven't made eye contact with anyone yet. "About what happened the other day." König tilted his head, listening to the conversation. His fingers tingled a bit, feeling a bit of a twitch. Mr. Miller reached to touch the side of your arm only for you to quickly yank yourself away. " I didn't mean to do those things to you. I was just stress with everything that is going on. Look, your wonderful and beautiful." His placed his hand on your back reaching," why don't I take you out for dinner, my treat," down to your ass. You felt as he gave it a squeeze, which made you jump causing you to bump into the cart. This caused König to stand up.

Was he foolish, stupid. König couldn't believe it. He swooped in and stood between you and Mr. Miller. He stood tall and broad in front of him, making him look like a child wearing a suit. "Wh-what are you doing, König. Get back on your bed." He pointed his finger on his chest, shaky, but trying to keep his confidence. "Listen to me now! Go back to your bed...you fucking looser," he whispered.

"Looser! Looser!"

Without a single thought, a single hesitation. He grasp his finger and with a quick, smooth, swift, König move it to the side. Mr. Miller let out a shriek of pain as he felt the bone of his finger breaking in half. He saw the blood coming out as the bone sticked out. "AAAHH! SHIT!"

He moved his hand with the compound fracture close to him, blood driping down to the floor, covering the white tiles with red liquid.

You covered your ears with the loud scream he made. "HELP ME (Y/N)!" He screamed at you. You were facing König's back. You were afraid. Afraid of everything.

He is going to hurt you too? Is he going to turn around and break your neck? You thought.

"FUCK!" Mr. Miller took another look at his finger and saw the bone clear as day. You peaked through and saw. You walked in front of König and saw the fracture. You were about to grab Mr. Millers hand with the wound, until you felt big, strong, hands on your arm, yanking you away from Mr. Miller. It made you collaps onto König's torso.

You heard multiple people trying to open the door. People screaming at others to get the extra key.

You felt König's breath near your neck. He lowered his head to get close to you. You felt his lips near your ear, "Is he the one, schatz?" Not breaking eye contact with Mr. Miller.

The one. The one that almost raped you in his office. You didn't say anything, you just shook your head to give him an answer.

The door eventually flew open as guards rushed in to assist the situation. They looked at Mr. Miller and saw his despair of his broken finger. Jacob and the fellow nurse rushed to help him, wrapping gauze around to help stop the bleeding while they called 911. Dr. Smith made her way and saw the scene. She was left in shock. Her jaw dropping to the floor. Her eyes widen so big it looked like her eyeballs were going to pop off her eye socket. She followed the blood trails and saw you in Königs brace.

The guards telling König to let you go. Were you his next victim? you thought. Was he going to kill you? Everything was killing you on the inside.

König released the grip he had on your arm. You walked away from him and went towards the guards.

"Sedate him." Dr. Smith demanded one of the nurses. You didn't stand up. You didn't interfere. You watched as they stuck a needle into Königs arm.

He flopped onto his bed unconscious. Everyone left the room including you. They took Mr. Miller to the hospital as the rest of the staff made in the report. Dr. Smith wasn't happy. Not one bit.

She was furious. She stared you and thought about how stupid you look. Just standing there, in shock..maybe. You didn't mutter a word. Your workers tried to question you, what happened? But you didn't give them an answer.

"(Y/n). (Y/n)!" Dr. Smith yelled out. It finally got your attention. Everything went back into sync. The blurred vision finally cleared and the echoing finally stopped. "You need to come with me for the report. Now!"

You followed her into the elevator. Her feisty walked made her heels clink harder on the floor.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, you felt the palm of her hand smacking up against your left cheek. "You stupid bitch!" Your head turned to the side, holding your irritation it developed.

"You bitch! Instead of studying, you're becoming a whore!" The mother smacked the girls cheek, making the girl cry in pain.

"Mom!? Why would you hit me!?" She cried out.

"For being a slut! Just like that cunt that stole your father!" She yelled back at her.

"We were only studying. I was just tutoring him. We did nothing wrong!" The girl tried to reason with her mother, who was in distress with what she thought she caught her daughter trying to seduce one of her fellow classmates, but the truth is she was just tutoring him.

That's all. She was just tutoring the boy who was struggling with math. Until her own mother came in and saw, greeting herself to him, saying goodbye to him. The innocent daughter thinking her mother would be proud of her for helping someone in need. Instead it was all...

"Lies! Don't lie to me (y/n)! I know exactly what you were doing. Seducing that man for your liking." She argued with her 15 year old daughter. "How dare you do this to me. Becoming a prostitute while your own mother is sick!"

"I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't doing anything to him, I swear!" The last plea she gave to her mom before recieving one last slap from her mother.

"You are a nurse and you can't even help someone in need! You let someone like Mr. Miller, who has been nothing but nice to you, get hurt like that!" She yelled at you. Your hand was trying to sooth the irritated left cheek she gave you. "So pathetic! If you think you can get away from this then think again. As soon as he's back, you'll be walking out of here."

She told you to leave. To clock out and take the rest of the day off. She said, she couldn't bare to look at you anymore. Everything you do is a disaster.

"Auughh! What a day!" Jacob groaned, closing the cabinet with the medical supplies.

"I know. Poor (y/n). I feel bad for her. Having to deal with someone like König." She sighed smacking the bottle for it to open.

The other nurse pitched in giving glances to them, "I heard that she gets triple the pay, just to take care of König. That's the reason why we are short staffed and lack of working supplies."

"Are you kidding me! She gets like what? Four patients and gets paid way more then us. Way more then Jacob, who does the heavy lifting. " The nurse, Mia, the one who banged the bottle to open, said.

"Don't feel bad for her anymore, Mia?" Jacob said, standing next to Mia.

"I did, but it's hard to feel bad for someone who does less work and gets paid more then us even though we all have the same title." She scuffed "We all went to nursing school to get our degrees only for us to get bitch slapped. I guess I feel bad, I mean, almost getting killed isn't worth anything."

"I heard that she fucks König and the administrator." The nurse, Wendy, said crossing her arms.

Mia let out a laugh of denial, "No! How!?"

"I mean she's always defending König and the way he held her earlier. They definitely fuck. Plus everytime, she leaves his room, she's happy. You don't walk out of a lunatics room unless he shoved his cock inside your pussy." Wendy leaned in closer to Jacob and Mia, "and i heard from Mr. Miller's secretary that she heard Mr. Miller talking about how good (y/n)s pussy looks like. And that she saw (y/n) walking out of his office with her clothes looking a little shriveled."

"Oh my gosh! Is that why she didn't want to tell us why she was called to his office?" Mia exclaimed with joy, like she was on celebrities gossip. "I mean it makes sense that König broke his finger. Two lovers fighting for the same vigina."

"Are you guys finish gossiping" Dr. Smith said towards the three nurses all huddled up together.

"Sorry." They said in a union.

Dr. Smith smacked the file of paperwork into the small desk. She wasn't deaf, she heard what they were gossiping about.

Mr. Miller and (Y/n). Dr. Smith didn't love it. She stared down at her wedding ring finger.

"You're leaving me!?"

"Sarah, I can't do this. Not with you!" The men screamed at her as he packed his suitcase.

"You're leaving me for that slutty waitress!" She screamed at her husband, yanking out his clothes from the dresser.

"Don't call her a slut! The only slut is you!" He words tamed with anger, burning her heart like acid.

"How many times do I have to apologize!? Me and Ben, it was only a one time thing." She plead trying to get her husband's affection. "I thought we pushed back this."

"No! You pushed it back! You wanted to pretend like nothing happened after you slept with another men! With! Your! Colleague! In! Our! Bed! Sarah!" He pulled his arm away from his soon to be ex- wife from her touch.

"And what! You don't think it hurts me too, to see you with another women. What is it!? What does she have that I don't!?" She cried to him. For an answer an answer as to why her husband went out to sleep with a beautiful waitress that attends him with his needs.

"Loyalty! Respect! Careness!" He answered her walking away from their shared bedroom, rolling his suitcase with him.

"Loyalty!? A homewrecker doesn't have any loyalty!" She chased after him.

He turned to her, hovering over her, "And you do!? She's not a homewrecker. The only homewrecker here is you when you slept with that Miller. You ruined this marriage, not her. You ruined this for us, not her. So go cry to Ben, because I don't care. Goodbye Sarah, have a nice fucking life."

Sarah saw as her husband left her. She reached to her phone. "Ben. Ben is me. He left me, Ben. I'm all alone." She cried to him.

"Dr. Smith."

"So what? You want to fuck her? Is that it. Never head young pussy before?"

"Dr. Smith." She snapped away from her thoughts and looked at Jacob. "König. He's awake."

"Check up on him." She said.

Jacob gave her a nod and walked away.

Jacob entered Königs room alongside a guard. He placed his medication on the table. König stood up. It alarmed them.

All of them.

Dr. Smith couldn't comprehend anything. She was so in her own thoughts, the screams of pain went passed her.

The screams of nurses and guards running. It finally caught her attention. She turned around in her chair and saw Jacob on the floor. His neck slit opened. The blood squirting out of his neck and into the walls and tiles. He tried his hardest to crawl away.

But nothing stopped König. She saw him coming out of his room. The guards ran to him, to hold him down, but all König did was to smash their heads into the wall. Nurses running away from him, but he quickly yanked their hair closer to him. He twisted Mia's neck all the way to the back until her spine cracked open. Wendy tripped on the blood and got her head stomped by his large foot.

Dr. Smith stood up from her chair, seeing the massacre. The screams from guards and nurses ringing in her ears. His eyes landed on her.

She ran. She ran as far as she could. She opened the door for the emergency staircase. She ran while looking back to see if he was still chasing her. Her stupidity of not paying attention caused her heel to miss a step, making her trip down.

Her hands landed on the floor, preventing her face from smashing into the tile floor. She groaned in pain. She looked down and saw her knees, right below her dress skirt, bleeding. She heard the door open and saw König walking down the stairs. She saw the look on his eye.

"Please! Please don't hurt me!" That doesn't stop him from getting close to her. She tried getting up, but her legs felt like they're going to snap. She stumbled down and landed on the floor.

She cried her eyes out. Turning around so her back is faced away from him. " *hic* please! Please don't hurt me! Please!" The Burning tears made it hard for her to see clearly.

König grabbed her neck, lifting her up from the ground. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I...I'm SO SORRY!"

He grabbed a chunk of her dirty, blonde, hair and with a quick movement, he smashed her head onto the wall...repeatedly. Over and Over.

The blood coming out. The chunk of skull falling to the floor. Her brain matter slushing out.

He threw her dead body to the floor and walked the rest of the stairs down. Finding his old clothing where he first arrived here. His tight compressed black t-shirt, his tan trousers and his black t-shirt- mask, his combat boots.He placed the needle inside his pants and went on to his destination.

Being a computer analyst and specialist really come in handy.

But nothing beats the help of his good ol'pal.

"Hello?"

"Horangi. It's König."

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

The night fell. The moon shining through your curtains. You took off your shower robe, put on a bra and a white tank top and some comfy shorts. You fixed your hair and went to the kitchen.

You opened up a tea bag and dumped it into the mug with hot, boiling, water.

Silence filled the room in your apartment. You decided to enjoy this time off. To take advantage of it.

You made your way to the living room and placed the mug onto the glass table, next to the couch. You roamed around to see the remote, but couldn't find it.

The sound a bang coming from your bedroom startled you frozen. You have a view of your room and saw the window, near your bed, open.

Either be stupid like the characters in horror films and check it out, or walk out of this building.

Either way, ignorance is bliss. Pretending that you never heard anything in the first place.

You entered the bedroom, taking precaution, quickly glancing you room and found nothing.

You entered to grab your blanket when out of sudden you felt a hand covering your mouth, preventing you from making any noise. The large hand covering your entire bottom half face. You felt strong wall behind you. "It's okay, die liebe"

He pulled out a needle, the same needle they use to sedate him. He injected it into your arm.

It didn't take long for you to fall unconscious. He lifted you up and carried you, bridal style. He carried you out and placed you in his car. "Don't worry, schatz. Ich bringe dich nach Hause. (I'm taking you home.)" He caressed your cheek, giving you a light kiss on the lips. "unser Zuhause. (Our home.)"

"Mein Liebling."

"Mine."

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Two)

Ledger! Joker x f! reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 5.6k

Chapter Summary: Your second session with the Joker, and as you try and make sense of his mind, you can't help but feel a pull to him

Part 1

Notes: Here's the next part! Just an fyi, this fic will def veer far from actual Dark Knight canon, but that means more surprises >:) Also, as much as this is a Harley-esque story, dont worry cuz I'm not gonna make their relationship physically abusive or anything, my Joker ain't gonna throw you out a window or anything lol. Just wanted to clarify. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! It was fun to write. Watched a lot of Arkham games gameplay while working on this, good times lol.

You wake up with a message that your rent is rising.

You grumble, taking the piece of paper someone had slid beneath your door and crumpling it. They didn’t even have the decency to call? The rent has gone up a hefty amount, and you aren’t even sure how you’re gonna support yourself this month. You might have to fall back into taking shifts at a local diner, working nights, as much as that kills you. But you have no other option. 

That, and you’ve only just started working on the Joker, so no raises quite yet.

Speaking of the Joker, you're exhausted from reading up on all his schemes, not one but two nights in a row, but you feel a bit more confident about dealing with him now. Last time, you went in pretty blind. This time, you have at least a hint of what you’re dealing with. Article after article about his crazy antics with Batman, some that you lived through, others you only caught glimpses of on the news. One thing is for sure, he is much more messed up than you thought, which, considering what you already do know about him, is saying a lot. His antics are on a scale larger than you’ve ever seen before. Everyone else seemed to wonder the same things as you, with all the articles trying to dive to explain the cause behind the crimes, some hint of who Joker really is. All of them bringing up theory after theory of who he may have been before his life of crime. You’ve compiled them all together to try and get a sense of it all. 

You hope that’ll be enough for now.

Before you leave for work, you throw on the news, quickly stuffing a piece of toast in your mouth, watching as the host rambles on and on about how Batman hasn’t been spotted since the death of Harvey Dent. Since the Bat killed multiple people. The police have been looking for him for days, and yet there’s been no sign, and you don’t think there ever will be. Not soon. If he’s smart, he’ll stay hidden. Especially with the climate outside, with all the vigils for Dent, people in the streets crying out for Batman or against him. The newscaster looks almost upset over Batman being gone but you snort. If he killed multiple people, was he really as good a guy as people thought he was? 

You shake your head and turn the TV off. Nope. Batman wasn’t anything special. If he wanted to save the people of Gotham, then you’d be right there waiting.

What was it that Joker had said? Nobody does things because they’re selfless. Batman wanted to be a hero and, well, he had failed.

Nobody was coming to save Gotham. Nobody was coming to save you.

————————————————-

Work is bustling as soon as you get there, with your fellow psychiatrists moving in and out of the break room, the smell of coffee wafting through the halls. Everyone tends to just ignore you, shuffling past you without even a second glance, sometimes bumping into you, causing you to nearly fall on your ass. You huff, quickly grabbing a cup of coffee and a few of your things before you go see the Joker. As you sip idly, two other psychiatrists you’ve never learned the name of come up to you, smiling at one another. “Hey,” says one of them, a girl with curly red hair. “Is it true you’re working with Joker?”

The other, a man with chestnut hair and a matching beard nods. “Yeah, we heard how Joker’s here now, and that Dale put you on the case.”

You stiffen, not liking any of this unwanted attention. Whenever people come up to you, it’s usually just to lecture you, you’re not used to people wanting to hear about your patients. You should’ve expected this, especially considering how infamous the Joker has become. But of course, people are only coming up to you for something they need, entertainment in this case, not for you. “Yeah,” you answer curtly. “I am.”

They look at one another with wide eyes. “Woah!” the curly haired girl gasps. “I saw all the other people they sent in to try and deal with him. They were all messed up in the head after.” She laughs, even though you don’t find it funny. “Is he really as wild as they say?”

“He’s mentally unwell, and I’m trying to help him,” you say. If they want some kind of crazy story, they’re not gonna get one. “Joker isn’t some kind of nut case for you to all gossip over, he’s a patient.”

The two psychiatrists’ excitement fades away as they just stand there and look at you. “Geez,” the bearded guy mutters. “Someone’s protective over him.”

Protective? Over Joker? Please. “I’m not protective. But we need to take every patient seriously, no matter how… over the top they are.”

Curly haired girl scoffs. “He’s more than just that, he fought Batman.”

“Because Batman is any better?”

“Someone’s defensive.” She snorts. “All I’m saying is that this guy is so much more than any of us have ever dealt with. The other people they sent in were some of the strongest people. Joker doesn’t just break things, he breaks people. He’s evil.” Her serious tone is immediately broken by a smile. “Who knows though. If you’ve lasted until another session, maybe he likes you.”

Like is far too kind of a word. Even then, you know they’re just teasing, and you hate it. You glare at the two of the psychiatrists. “You guys aren’t dealing with him, and until you are, then don’t try and analyze him.” Ducking your head, you rush between them, and they whisper but you don’t care as you try and find a corner to isolate yourself in. As you’re walking away, you smack straight into something, gasping as you stumble backwards. 

You look up to see Mr. Dale, who sneers and dusts off his suit. “Miss l/n, good to see you again,” he says drily.

Screw my life. “Good morning, Mr. Dale,” you mumble. “I am so sorry-“

He cuts you off by shoving something into your hands. A rolled up newspaper. You open it up and see the headline. Batman Still Not Found After Five Dead At His Hand! “I assume you’ve seen all this news?” 

“Who hasn’t?”

“Joker, that’s who.” He snatches the newspaper back from you, tossing it into a nearby trash can. “You haven’t mentioned anything about Batman to him, have you?”

You shake your head. “No… I- I assumed he already knew-“

“Well, he doesn’t. I should’ve told you last time, but I thought Batman may have been found innocent by now. Reversed his claims. I was wrong.” Dale coughs. “Joker doesn’t know a single thing about what’s happening out in the world. And we intend to keep it that way.”

“Mr. Dale, doesn’t he have the right to know-“

“Know what? That Batman is in hiding? That Dent is dead? That’ll only motivate him further. He’ll think he won! He’ll think that it's up to him to drive Batman out of hiding!” As people turn to look at you two, Dale drops his voice. “You’re not to let him know anything past the day he was brought in, got it?”

The more you think about it, the more you realize Mr. Dale is probably right. If Joker did find out that Batman went into hiding, it might offer motivation. For what, you’re not sure. Still, there’s something that feels wrong about leaving Joker in the dark, especially when the person he was trying to stop had been a murderer all along. “Got it.”

He smiles, and it’s anything but friendly. “Good. Now, I believe your session starts soon, wouldn't want to leave the Harlequin of Hate waiting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

——————————————-

After another round of checkpoint after checkpoint, you walk into the room with the Joker, who looks the same as the other day you saw him, still without makeup, still tucked away in a straitjacket. Even though you saw him once before, after days of searching him up, seeing the photos of him with his greasepaint on, you still get a lump in your throat as you see this other side of him. Seeing him like this feels strange, and you may as well be one of the only people to have ever seen him without his signature mask. Scars and all. 

As you walk in and take your seat, he smiles, showing off his yellowing teeth. “Well, hello, doll face. I’ve been lookin’ forward to this.”

You settle into your chair, taking out your clipboard, which holds all your notes from the past two nights. Joker’s words could be sweet, but he’s basically been placed on this Earth to mess with people, so you don’t read too much into it. “Oh, really?”

“Oh yeah, doll. They, ah, never let me talk to anyone anymore. Got me locked up at all times. Ain’t that sad?” He giggles. “Don’t see anyone these days but the guards. And they just like to yell at me.”

You haven’t actually seen the way they treat the Joker. Once you’re done with a session, you’re quickly filed out and headed into the break room until your next session with another patient. But you’re sure it isn’t pretty. If they treat other, less taxing patients horrible enough, you can only imagine what they do to the Joker. “Well, rest assured, I won’t be yelling at you. Now, we have a full session today, so I really do want to get started. So,” you lean in and smile, “where should we begin? Most people would like to focus on the past, but I think maybe we should work our way back. How are you feeling right now?”

He licks his lips. “Oh, ya know, as good as a guy can be rotting away in this shithole.” He sways his head from side to side, clearly antsy, and you can tell that if he had his hands out, he’d be gesturing wildly with them. “But I’d say I’m much happier now that you’re here, doc.”

Joker was a master of many weapons. It seemed he wielded charm with the same mastery. You ignore his attempts at getting to you. “You’ve been in Arkham for a few days now. Have you been reflecting on yourself?”

Joker’s mouth smacks together. “Reflection? I’ve certainly been thinkin’, that’s for sure. Nothin’ else to do.”

You scribble that down, perking up. “Really? And what have you been thinking about?”

“All the things I’m gonna blow up when I get out of here.”

Immediately, you deflate, and Joker erupts into thunderous laughter. Of course. What the hell were you expecting? But it’s only the second day, of course he’s not exactly gonna be a changed man. “That’s all you’ve been thinking about? Is there anything in particular you’re excited to get back to?” You’re pretty sure Joker has absolutely nothing to lose, but you ask anyway. “No friends? Family? A lover?”

At the last bit, he guffaws loudly. “Why do you ask, sweetheart? Jealous?” He licks the inside of his cheeks. “Don’t worry, doll face, I’m definitely, ah, available.”

Now you wish you didn’t ask. If it were anyone else, you’d probably groan and give them a good look at your middle finger, but there’s something about the way that Joker says it that nearly makes you blush. It’s incredibly inappropriate, but you can’t deny he has a way of saying things that make you, well, react. Just another one of his deceptions, another skill he’s mastered. You know better than to give in. “I wasn’t asking for that,” you clarify harshly. “So, no family. Obviously, you don’t want to stay cooped up in here forever. There’s got to be something you want to go back out there for, and I feel like that same thing you’re eager to get back to might be the same reason you’re stuck in here. So, what is it?” 

He groans. “Are you trying to get me to talk about the Bat?”

“No.” It’s not a full lie. You’re trying to get deeper into his motivation, into the way he thinks. What’s he in this all for? “But why don’t we talk about that?”

“Ah, Batsy, the Dork Knight, the savior, if you will. He’s crazy, you know.”

“Who? Batman?”

“No, Santa Claus.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course Batman! Interesting fella, he is. Thinks he’s all high and mighty for instilling order around here that he doesn’t even realize that he’s just as bad as the rest of them. He can keep trying but he’ll never amount to anything.”

You don’t disagree. It feels weird to agree with the Joker. But he makes good points. Who knew a villain would be so agreeable with? Batman did fail the city if he wanted to uphold the law, disappearing with a damn body count. If Joker only knew… “So, was your point to prove that you’re better than him?”

“Better? Oh no, doll. We’re the same. All I wanted to prove was that anyone can be broken. That all it takes is one little flick of the domino and the facade comes crumblin down!” He hollers and hoots as he scooches closer, the chair scraping across the floor until his chest is right up against the table. “We’re all messed up inside, doll, behind these masks we put up.”

All messed up. In a way, maybe. “So, all those stunts were to try and break him?”

“Those stunts were works of art,” he says, emphasizing the t. “Now, I do these things because, well, it’s funny. But it’s also about sending a message.”

“About chaos? Well, then there has to be some sort of thing that happened to you that started this obsession with chaos.”

As you begin to try and delve further into his past, you can see his barriers go up, his face more guarded. “Why don’t we just focus on the here and now, doll?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “My past is anything but a fun story. The fun part starts when the Batman and I finally start facing off.”

So he won’t let you know anything further past when he first came into Gotham’s limelight, got it. That’s fine. You need to work towards deeper topics with your other patients too. This is nothing new. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So, can we talk more about these illegal…stunts of yours?”

“Sure thing.”

“I told you before, Joker, that you’re a showman. I’d like to pull back the curtain, if you will. You caused quite a lot of damage before you were caught. Wanna tell me about that?”

He shrugs. “What’s there to tell? I assume you’ve been, ah, watchin’ the news? Did you see the hospital I blew up? I’ve shut down a few streets, scared off a few crooks.”

He has a talent for understatement. “You forced Gothamites into ships, criminals and regular civilians, and tried to get them to blow up one another,” you add, deadpanned. 

At that, his excited demeanor drops a bit, and he bares his teeth like some wild animal. “Right.”

“Now, I’m no mastermind, but I know there’s a method to your madness. From what I’ve gathered, as much as you say this is all to humor you, you also get enjoyment over upturning social order and showing people what they truly are, which you believe is evil. And yet, neither boat chose to blow up the other. Why do you think that is?”

He sits there silently, but you can tell the gears in his mind are turning. He has a thinking face, subtle, but his brows furrow a bit and he presses his lips hard together. “I guess,” he finally says, after a beat, “not everyone was, ah, ready to have such a weight put on their shoulders.”

“That experience proved that people, no matter how messed up our world can be, people can be good, did it not?”

“Nah ah ah, doll. I think those people just think too fondly of themselves. It was never about not wanting to cause harm, it was about wanting to be able to sleep well at night, to be able to continue thinking of themselves as good people.” He breathes in deeply. “I know the true nature of society. I’ve seen how people will treat you when you’ve got nothing left to give them. People like to think they have morals, makes them feel secure. But those morals fly out the window one way or another. You’re just all so blind and forced into this little box that nobody wants to stand up and do somethin’!”

You sit there, trying to scribble everything down but slowly your pen just slows to a halt, as you take everything in. The worst part about his words is that he makes sense to you. Every single thing feels like the truth, and you don’t know if he’s just twisting his words to make you agree or if you really just believe it all. You’re not like him. He’s taking things to the extreme. “So that’s what you’re doing. Taking a stand against all this? That’s what the large spectacles are for?” 

“Read it however you want, doll face. Just don’t think I’m in it for any gain.”

You blink. Joker’s chaos mainly stemmed from his code and amusement. But you had found it seriously hard to believe he wasn’t getting any gain out of it. It didn’t even have to be money, but was amusement and pushing a message really all there was to it? “That’s a first. Most of the other criminals are in it for money. Power. Notoriety.”

“I’m not like those fools.”

“Maybe not, but all these big, grand gestures? These stem from wanting something. And not just sending a message.”

“And what would that be?”

It’s hard, really, to comprehend how the Joker thinks because he’s truthful about the fact that he does things because he can. He is pure chaos, and as much as he plans his stunts, as much as he follows his belief strictly, he can also go completely against all this. There’s no rhyme or reason to him, so you’re grasping at straws to try and piece him together. But you think there’s more to it all, something he’s keeping locked up. “Do you think maybe you do all this because you just want to be seen? Want to be heard?” You tap your pen against your chin. “Are you lonely?”

As if it’s a fucking joke, Joker begins to snicker. He thinks everything I say is a joke. His body is almost thrashing violently, and god, he’s not settling down. “Oh, you are too funny! Lonely? Lonely? Doll. I chose this.”

Humans aren’t meant to be alone. “Your crazy antics, constantly trying to outdo yourself. This might just be a plea for something. Validation?” Love?

“Why would I keep people around when at any chance they’d get they’d just turn on me?” He smirks. “I don't have time for those shenanigans.”

The way he thinks, someone, multiple people, must have wronged him, and in your core you feel something like empathy. The world has kicked you down too. People have been cruel to you all your life. In a way, fuck it’s true, you and the Joker aren’t too different.

But that’s not something you’d like to dwell on.

“So, you don’t believe in loyalty?”

“Oh, I think people can be loyal. But you gotta buy that loyalty, loyalty never comes for free.”

You don’t agree, but that’s besides the point. “Maybe what you really need is company. A proper way to vent your feelings. By talking to someone. We’re not meant to be alone, Mr. J. Trust me, I’d know.”

He straightens a bit. “Oh, I see now, you’re a loner like me. See! Then you’d know how much people will take and take and take and then just discard you.” His voice drops to a whisper, a loud whisper. “And I have a feeling those bosses and guards out there would discard you the second they can.”

Again, you really hate how he seems to be right about everything. You wriggle in your seat a bit, shifting uncomfortably as he stares you dead on. Your coworkers don’t like you. Your landlord doesn’t like you. Your boss is already threatening to kick you to the curb if Joker doesn’t get better, and speaking of which, that helps kick your thoughts back into place. “It is kinda lonely out there, isn’t it?”

“You deserve a lot better than that, doll.”

You stop. Fuck him. He was just messing with you. He had to be messing with you. Joker didn’t feel bad for anyone. Didn’t care for anyone. The way he said those words though made it almost sound like he cared. And nobody had ever said something even close to that to you before so you soften. “Thanks,” you finally choke out. “But you don’t know me.”

“I already told you, doll, I’ll get to the bottom of you before you ever even get a glimpse into me.”

“For the last time, I’m not here to talk about myself.”

“And for the last time, I wanna know more about you,” he says, wetting his lips. “Hows about a deal? Everytime you tell me something personal about yourself, I’ll tell you something about me.”

A deal. No, this is the Joker, this is more like a game. A sick, twisted game. If it means answers, though, you’re willing to play. “Fine. What would you like to know about me?”

Joker shakes his head. “Ah ah ah, not like that, doll. We won’t be asking. Share something lighthearted about yourself, I’ll share something lighthearted about me. Share something a bit deeper?” He grins. “Then maybe I’ll be inclined to share something a bit more personal.” His eye twitches before his voice drops to a whisper. “And trust me, I’ll know if you lie to me.”

Ah, so he really wants to pick at your core. He’s baiting you, wanting to know your deepest darkest secrets because he’ll know you’ll do anything to get even just one small story out of him. He’s trying to break you. The game might be one sided, might be tipped in Joker’s favor, but it also might not be. He can lie. You can lie. Or maybe you can both tell the truth. The game is in both your hands. If Joker wants to play, you’ll play. “Fine. Deal.”

He brightens. “Ah, I knew I’d get ya!”

“In fact, why don’t we start off easy?” You think of a small detail about yourself, something that wouldn’t matter to anyone. “I’ve always been more of a cat person than a dog person.” 

Joker smiles. “Mmm, seems we disagree on something.” He clucks his tongue. “Dogs have always been my favorite pet. Loyal creatures at a cost. But also deadly creatures.”

“Cats are so independent, like they don’t need anyone. But I like caring for them because of that. I like trying to help, no matter how much they hiss or push me away.”

“You’re, ah, a strange one, doll face.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” With that, you feel a weight come off your shoulders. You don’t feel quite as nervous as you did before. There’s a level of comfort now. You share something, he shares something back. And things won’t get deep unless you initiate it. You’ll have to figure out how to get there. It’s a good start. “You know, you could have a dog and a place of your own once you’re out of here.”

You expect him to groan or yell, but instead he just rests his cheek against his shoulder. “Guards say I’ll only get out if I’m a good boy. And, ah, maybe I will be good, just not in this piss pot.”

You put your pen down on the clip board and sigh. “Mr. J, I think we can really make progress with you, so long as we work on it together. You help me, and I’ll help you. And I really do wanna help.” 

“Get me out of here.” There’s an edge of humor to his voice, but it doesn’t sound like a joke.

“Can’t.” Unless you can get better. Please, get better. Please. “Besides, I’ve never been very good at picking locks.”

Joker raises an eyebrow. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes. Well, and no. I really can’t pick locks.”

“I could teach ya. Maybe. I, uh, don’t really have my hands right now.” 

You’re sure he can, and for a second you wonder what his hands might look like, beneath the gloves you’ve seen him wear on TV, but you quickly snap out of that. You clear your throat. “This has been a very heavy session. So why don’t we close off with something more lighthearted?” You lean in close, putting your chin on your first. “Since I’m no good at jokes, why don’t you tell me one?”

Joker perks up. “Oh! Oh! I’ve written a few jokes since getting locked up! Well, not writing them, they won’t even let me hold a crayon, but I’ve been thinking some up.”

“Alright, tell me?”

He nods his head eagerly, like a little kid agreeing to something. “Alright, uh, how about this, whaddya call a dog with no legs?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“Why’s it matter? He can’t come running to you anyways!” He can hardly even make it through the punchline before he bursts into manic laughter, his shoulders shaking. It takes a minute for the joke to settle in before you gasp and then, despite yourself, you laugh. At your laughter, Joker perks up even more. “Was that a laugh, doll face? Didn’t think ya had it in ya. Specially not for one of my jokes.”

Quickly, you regain your composure, biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from smiling. It’s not because you think he’s funny. It’s not. It’s just stupid. “You have a very dark sense of humor.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like it.”

Maybe you did. It was a little frightening. You weren’t used to having a conversation with someone that made you feel sort of… happy. Especially not with a patient. It felt wrong. It felt right. You were a little confused. “You’re horrible,” you laugh.

“Clearly, you’re just as horrible.” You watch as he runs his tongue over his lips and your stomach starts doing flips. It’s because he’s intimidating, that’s probably why. “I like it.”

You shake your head as if you can ignore him, even though you can’t. “I think it’s about time I get going.”

“Doll, won’t you come back tomorrow? I, ah, really do enjoy our chats.”

“Joker, this is only our second talk.”

“Oh, I know, I know, but I just get so lonely. Besides, I’m sure seeing me more often would, ah, really help my mental state.”

At first, you open your mouth to protest, but quickly clamp it shut. More sessions with the Joker didn’t sound… too bad. In fact, they would be good. The more sessions you got in, the more progress could be made with Joker. Then, you’d have that raise in no time. Yes, extra sessions would be good. Great, even. And it certainly wasn’t because for once you actually might be enjoying talking to someone. “Okay, I’ll see if I can adjust some meetings I have for tomorrow and try and get you in.”

“I’ll be waiting eagerly, doll face.” He smiles at you, and this time it’s not one of those scary, wolf-like smiles with bared teeth, not a sinister grin, but something… warm? Warm seems the wrong way to put it, nothing is warm about the Joker. But whatever this is, it’s close enough, and you feel heat pooling in your stomach. It’s strange. You don’t understand it. “Don’t forget about me.”

You take the remote from your bag and push on the green button, smiling back at him. “I could never.”

————————-

When you finally manage to go to the shared staff space, Mr. Dale is there eagerly waiting for you, alongside his business partner Henry Walsh. He’s a taller, thin man with curly black hair and a thin mustache. Dale waves you over, and you head over, offering a polite wave despite how he treated you earlier. “Hello again, Mr. Dale.”

“Hello, Doctor l/n,” he responds. “Tell me, how did things go with the Joker this time?”

You don’t really know how to put it all into words. “Well, I’ve only just started working on him. It’s going to take him a bit of time to open up. But I think we did well today. I’m trying to get to the root of his thinking. If I can see why he thinks the way he thinks, I can try and see what we can do to get him to push this more violent way of thinking towards something… well, less violent.” You cross your arms. “Speaking of which, I want him out of that straitjacket.”

Beside Mr. Dale, Walsh scoffs. “That psycho could lunge at anyone anytime he wants if we got him out of that thing.”

“If you want him to get better, you have to show a level of trust towards him too. You trust him, he’ll trust you.” He won’t trust them, not even at all, but you really think getting him out of that straitjacket will be good. “Please. I promise this will help.”

Walsh’s scowl would make the other psychiatrists crumble, and maybe you too, but after a session with the Joker, you, if only for a moment, feel like you can handle anything. When you don’t waver, he groans. “Fine. However he will be handcuffed. You hear me? Legs and wrists bound.” He tugs at the tie around his neck. “You’re crazy to even want this, Miss l/n.”

“Maybe you should lock me up in here too, huh?” When nobody laughs, you stiffen. “Sorry, joking. I really do believe this well help. Shove someone in a straitjacket and of course they’re going to go a little off the rocker. Treat someone like a human, they'll act like a human, no?”

The two men blink, because what do they know about treating people like humans? You’re one of the only people in this god forsaken facility who actually takes the patients seriously. You’ve got a good record of getting people out of there, and still, the two men before you see you as crazy because where they see lunatics you see people. “I’m no doctor, so I trust you,” Mr. Dale says with a small shrug. He looks over at Mr. Walsh and the two begin to laugh and gossip as if you’re not even standing there. “Crazy girl,” you hear one of them whisper, and you turn away from them, stalking out of the room.

You’re not crazy. You’re not.

———————————

Joker sighs wistfully as you walk off.

He fucking hates Arkham asylum. He spends every day locked up in a small cell, his arms restrained beneath the straitjacket, with guards constantly coming in to yell at him, or doctors trying to force pills in his mouth to fix him right up. He doesn’t remember what the sun feels like, or even how the moonlight would bathe his purple suit in a silver glow. All he knows now is flickering, ugly yellow fluorescent lights. The smell of urine and metal. The screams and cries of crazies in their cells. 

It should be hilarious, really, but it just pisses him off.

But not you. He didn’t expect you. The first psychiatrists were all boring, rigid bums who were spooked off after only a few minutes of speaking to him. But not you. You stayed. You were different. You were just as miserable as the Joker, just as alone. Yet, your mind isn’t as strong as you think it is. You want something more than your dull life has in store, Joker sees this clearly.

What fun you two will have together.

——————————-

As you walk home, you think of the Joker.

You can’t help it, especially since the very apartment you’re heading to hinges on this stupid raise. Not just your apartment, but your livelihood. You stuff your hands in your pockets, and think about all the stuff he said, about how people were all messed up inside. You’d like to think he’s wrong but while trying to help Joker you can’t help but feel this pull towards him. You know that’s the whole point, he’s trying to get all buddy buddy, disarm you so you’ll forget what you’re in there for. But there’s this other pull towards him, one outside of your want (and need) to help him. Oh well, so long as you make progress with him, you can quickly forget any of it ever happened, and it makes you feel kind of selfish. For a moment, you wonder if he’d sympathize with you, but instead you know he’d laugh in your face. He’d be actively making sure he wouldn’t get better so you could learn your lesson.

That damn clown.

—————-

Edit: I’m gonna make a tag list for this so if anyone would like to be on it, lmk!!

[herofics]

Hii

Could you please do a second part of the scenario in which Aizawa's daughter was r4ped and bakugou told him?

Maybe the moment she told Aizawa, and basicly confort. Thanks

A/N: So this is basically expanding on the end of this post. More comfort than straight-up angst this time. Also this isn’t TikTok, so it’s honestly more harmful to censor stuff like “rape” with “r4pe” because then people have a harder time avoiding it and blacklisting it. So just use the actual words, because it’s a pain in the ass for people to try to blacklist all the possible versions

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, twiddling your thumbs, while your father sat at the other end of the bed. You could basically feel him vibrating with anger, even though he wasn’t even that close to you. You just hoped his anger wasn’t directed towards you.

“Is it true what Bakugou said?” he finally asked.

“Yes” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing to me? Whatever happened, whatever he did, it wasn’t your fault”

“But I should’ve listened to my gut. That’s what you always tell me. I had the feeling he was a creep, but I went to meet him anyway” you sniffled.

“If someone acts like a piece of shit and hurts you, it’s not your fault, ever. He’s a predator, and I’m going to make sure he gets what he deserves” Aizawa promised with a serious tone.

He never thought something like this would happen to you. He knew you might get hurt on an internship or something, and end up in the hospital, but he never thought that someone would hurt you like this, especially right under his nose. Aizawa wasn’t sure what he should do, this was a completely new situation to him. You were sitting on the other end of the bed, leaning against the wall. You looked like you were trembling a little. He was so incredibly angry, not at you of course, but towards that piece of shit who had dared to assault you. He tried not to show how furious he was, while at the same time still showing his disapproval towards what had been done to you.

“How do you want to proceed with this? I’m going to make sure that scumbag gets fired, but it’s up to you if you want to go to the police”

Your dad was always quite practical with things, so you weren’t really surprised about how he handled the situation. You didn’t really know what you wanted.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I kinda wanna kick him in the dick and throw rotten eggs at him, but I also never want to see that piece of shit again” you sighed.

“I’ll kick him in the dick for you, but I don’t think I can do anything about the eggs” Aizawa tried to lighten the mood awkwardly.

“Thanks dad, but I don’t want you to get in trouble, he’s not worth it” you smiled tiredly.

"But you are, and I’m sure the principal wouldn’t fire me even if I did kick his ass. I was only defending a student and my kid for that matter"

“That’s probably true to be fair” you chuckled slightly.

“Come here kid” Aizawa stood up and motioned towards himself.

You got up from the bed and walked to your dad, who pulled you into a hug.

“It’s going to be okay. It might not feel like it now, but I promise one day this whole thing will be just a memory” he assured, rubbing your upper back.

“I was kind of scared you would be mad at me, but now I feel kinda bad for thinking that”

“Don’t worry about it. Can you just promise me something?” he asked.

“Depends on what it is?”

“Please make an appointment to the school psychiatrist. You need to talk to a professional about this”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes”

“Fine, but I’ll do it tomorrow. Now I wanna go take a shower and go to sleep”

“That’s fine with me. You can talk to me too, but I do still want you to talk to someone who actually has experience with dealing with something like this” he said, and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m going to go inform the principal”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” he turned back.

“I love you” you sniffled.

“I love you too kiddo” Aizawa said and ruffled your hair, before leaving your room.

You went to take a shower again. Maybe someday you wouldn’t feel so stained anymore. You would heal… eventually.

[sawyerquinnbrown]

Adventures in Boob Removal

Check out my new blog post on Wordpress!

Where to start? Probably in April 2022, when I met with the first surgeon who was supposed to perform my top surgery.

This surgeon, who we will call Dr. Rude, began by explaining that my chest “wouldn’t look like a man’s chest” post-surgery, to which my non-binary ass replied,

“Good thing I’m not a man, then.”

Dr. Rude did not get the joke. He went on to complain about my having had a breast reduction surgery in the past, claiming I was “making [his] job more difficult.” I refrained from sarcastically apologizing,

“Sorry my understanding of my gender dysphoria didn’t happen sooner, good buddy.”

Anyway, it’s a good thing that first attempt at top surgery didn’t work out before my move to Chicago, because I wasn’t sure I could trust Dr. Rude, who had apparently never met a non-binary person before.

Once I moved to Chicago, however, it became clear that if I got my surgery there I would be waiting years for an appointment. The soonest they had for a consultation appointment was a year out. “Don’t bring your paperwork,” they told me, so to hell with that.

Instead I settled on flying to Boston for my surgery, since 1) I wouldn’t be waiting a year, 2) some of the best surgeons are in Boston, and 3) I have family and friends there with whom I could stay for my recovery.

My discussions with the receptionist at the new surgeon’s office (we’ll call him Dr. Did-My-Breast-Reduction-Six-Years-Ago Second Try) involved crossed wires, however.

“How long have you legally been a man?” they asked.

Puzzled, I replied, “No time. I’m non-binary.” This stumped the receptionist for a moment. “There’s an ‘X’ on my state ID?” I offered.

“Okay. And how long have you been on hormones?”

“I’m not on hormones.”

Once again this threw the receptionist for a loop, but we did manage to schedule a pre-surgical exam, so go us.

At the pre-surgical exam I met with the surgeon’s assistant, who spent about fifteen minutes flapping her hands over my boobs while she told me about the surgery. Fondling complete, she told me to wait in the lobby to schedule my surgery, and she’d see if Dr. Second Try was available to speak with me. So I waited in the lobby, where I was told my surgery couldn’t be scheduled until they submitted to my insurance anyway, at which point Dr. Second Try appeared, fully scrubbed- and masked-up, and announced to the room,

“So no nipples?”

“No nipples,” I confirmed with a thumbs up, glad that the entire waiting room now knew this.

Off I toddled back to Chicago to wait for my surgery date. The first time my info had been submitted to insurance, with Dr. Rude, it had taken about two weeks to hear back, so I was surprised that I hadn’t heard in three weeks. I finally got a call saying they’d never received my letter of approval from my psychiatrist.*

*This is a fun thing about being trans. It’s not enough to say to a doctor that you have gender dysphoria. First you have to go to a mental health professional to say you have gender dysphoria, then that mental health professional writes down that you have gender dysphoria and informs the doctor that hey, this person has gender dysphoria. Very efficient system, makes perfect sense.

“What do you mean you never got my letter? It’s the first thing I handed over at my exam.”

“We never got it.”

“It was in an orange folder.” They told me to hold.

Three minutes later: “We found the orange folder!”

“Why did it take three weeks to determine that you didn’t have my letter?” I asked politely, masking my understandable annoyance.

The scheduler said, snippy, “We have other things to do.”

Well excuse the shit out of me.

I’d go into more detail about the rest of the process, but everything went pretty smoothly for scheduling after that, as well as the surgery itself and the recovery (which was very itchy. No one warned me). The only moment of note was when I went to get my drains taken out (if you don’t know about drains, consider yourself very lucky).

The nurse who was assisting Dr. Second Try started to speak. “She–I mean, he–“

“They,” I corrected gently but wearily.

“They need more bandages,” she finished. Bless her, she was trying.*

*I find it a little odd that so many of the staff struggled with my pronouns and gender identity. This surgeon had done top surgeries many times before.

Anyhow, that was my top surgery adventure, and I’m finally able to lift my hands all the way over my head again. Yay! Though I do have something I call "phantom boob syndrome"--similar to phantom limb syndrome except that it means sometimes my chest will be itchy but no matter how much I scratch the itch won't go away because the itch is on my no-longer-existent boob. #suffering

[butcherfoxes]

GRGRGGFGH ok so bioshock right. Well eleanor lamb is from bioshock 2 but the base knowleghe you need of bioshock is that This Motherfucker made a city underwater bc he sucks ass. and used the final pam morals of No Rules Just Right. WELL they discover The Slug That Gives You Superpowers and go hrmm how could we make a profit from this (the city is capitlism world except its worse than captilism bc the guy thought american captilism was Too good to poor people) anyway so they figure out if they put the slug in little girls they can make super power drugs. WELL now they have a bunch of freakish little girls running around and people keep killing the little girls to get the drugs which is No Bueno. so theyre like “hey!! lets take our prisoners and brainwash them so heavily they genuinely cant think of anything Except protecting the girls!” yay! ok so this chick Sofia Lamb comes to rapture to be an awesome psychiatrist who loves to help poor people and also shes a single mom. Well andrew ryan the guy who made the city is like hrm. helping poor people is bad. and has her arrested. and then custody of her daughter Eleanor goes to this other chick who Loses Her Immediately and now shes being taken care of by this other guy whos like man fuck them kids and sells eleanor to the little sister orphanage which is really a sort of factory to make the freak girls. except this is Before they figure out the “brainwash prisoners to protect the girls” so theyre still figuring that out. WELL they figure it out by expirimenting on this one guy Yay! so they do it some more to other guys and As It Turns Out if the brainwash dudes get seperated from their little sister too long they either Die or Go Insane oh fuck! anyway back to subject delta whos the first guy to have that bond and eleanor the first one to. also have that bond. ok so now eleanor is Really attatched to subject delta and calls him her father also shes like 7 years old. anyway so theyre chilling Yayy! except her mother sofia lamb escapes from prison and is like fuck youuu die thats MY daughter. die. forever. and kills subject delta and does Things so that eleanor isnt a little sister anymore shes just a little girl. ok so while delta is dead sofias like hrmm wouldnt it be awesome if we created the perfect person whos super awesome by injecting them with Every Drug? well this goes bad. also sofia is a cult leader now. so sofias like Well eleanor my young daughter should be immune to the drug bc she was exposed to the drug. so actually im going to raise my daughter completely isolated from everyone so she wont be tainted and the cult is going to revolve around this little girl sacrificing herself to be the perfect most special guy in the world. yay! Well 10 years pass eleanor is a Teenager now and figures out how to revive subject delta bc kind of her mom sucks. this is the start of the plot of bioshock 2 Well subject delta goes on this epic journey to save his adoptive daughter and makes Moral Decisions which is to say the player gets to make moral decisions. and this seemingly effects nothign until closer to the end where when (spoilers) delta saves eleanor by turning her into a badass big sister (girls with big knives) u get little Hints of oh ! oh my choices mattered ! bc eleanor will either be viscously murdering everything in her path Including Children and laughing maniacally abt it OR going lalala..dont hurt my dad ok..and i save the children..anyway skip to the end there are like a bunch of endings but the one my profile pic is inspired by is where (more spoilers) subject delta dies but also so does eleanors mom But Also so do all the little sisters but eleanor escaped the city so eleanor is Completely Alone and also she was born and raised in the city so this is her first time on the surface and basically bioshock 2 is like undertale 5 years before undertale

jaw dropp...this sounds so interesting ill likely never get into bioshock but that sounds cool as hell

[biggayarsonsbiggaytumble]

They just diagnose any fucking sucker with BPD now, it's insane. I was essentially diagnosed with female hysteria disguised as a BPD diagnosis in a behavioral center. I was committed because of extreme paranoid hallucinations that almost caused me to have an accident at work. During my first meeting with a psychiatrist there, I only met the medical student. She was lovely and really good at helping me talk through all of my thoughts because I was freaking out a little. I told her that my mom has never been diagnosed or sought out treatment, but she has told me about her PTSD from extreme abuse in the foster care system.

The doctor was hardly in the room for 3 minutes. He came in after I had already been speaking for 15 minutes with the med student, and he heard me say the words PTSD and BPD. He introduced himself and the med student recapped, and he hardly asked me any questions. He asked me why I thought I had DID and when I told him I was diagnosed, he sneered at his papers and went "Uh-huh." I know for a fact it was there because the med student asked me about it. I saw him cross something out and write a couple of other things down, then shook my hand and promptly fucked off.

I went into a private meeting with a nurse to discuss my new diagnosis of... BPD and PTSD. DID AND Autism had been completely stricken from the list of the rest of my diagnoses. I absolutely have never felt as though I had BPD symptoms. I don't have many issues when people leave my life, I don't split, I'm not very impulsive or self-destructive. I was really upset that not only was I diagnosed with a pretty serious personality disorder when the psych barely exchanged more than a few sentences with me and asked to speak to him later.

When I asked why he thought I had BPD, the ONLY reason that he could get out of his mouth was "Compartmentalization of emotions." He then elaborated that the voices I'm hearing and the switches and amnesia I was having and actively receiving helpful treatment for was NOT caused by my DID that I tested extensively for. No, it was the BPD and that basically everything that I had come into the hospital for was me "splitting" on my Domino's pizza delivery job. And all I could think of was "What if someone actually came in here with BPD?? This ass clown definitely is going to make it worse." He took none of my concerns seriously after the diagnosis. It was always that I was trying to manipulate to keep myself from losing control of or being hurt by my life and relationships. I felt like everything I was saying would make him think that I was manipulative and shitty, and I still have a fucking complex about that now (surprise! i also have ocd!).

He put me on Cymbalta, which felt like a lobotomy in capsule form. I just couldn't form any coherent thoughts for a while, so at least I was quiet. I felt like shit the whole time and nobody would address my hallucinations, it was like they completely forgot what I was here for. They kept insisting it was my BPD or that I was depressed or fat or not sleeping enough.

Eventually, I got out and went to a new therapist. I told her everything that happened, spoke with her for hours for the intake and she was baffled that he had diagnosed me with BPD. I endured so much mistreatment after just having three little letters written on my chart.

BPD diagnoses, whether or not a person has it or not, is too often used to subjugate vulnerable patients who are just looking for answers, who are already in a state of distress or have already found themselves in the wake of destruction. How horrible is it that we have the nerve to villainize them, to push them down and hold them under the water and then complain and call them demons for pushing up and gasping for air after.

As a late diagnosed autist I will say one of the most damaging but transformative experiences I've ever had was being misdiagnosed with BPD.

Everyday my heart goes out to people with BPD.

The amount of stigma and silencing they face is astonishing and sickening.

I took DBT for years. Therapists use to turn me away because of my diagnosis.

I would be having full blown autistic meltdowns, crying for help literally - but because I was labeled as BPD ANY time I cried I was treated as manipulative and unstable.

As if the only reason I could be crying was if I was out to trick someone.

95% of the books out there with Borderline in the title are named shit like 'How to get away from a person with Borderline', 'How to stop walking on eggshells (with a person who has BPD)'

I was never allowed to feel true pain or panic or need.

That was 'attention seeking behavior', not me asking for help when a disability was literally inhibiting my ability to process emotions.

There were dozens of times where I had a full meltdown and was either threatened with institutionalization or told I was doing it for attention.

My failing relationships weren't due to a communication issue, or the inability to read social cues. No, because I was labeled borderline, my unstable relationships were my fault. Me beggong nuerotypicals to just be honest and blunt with what they meant was me pestering them for validation.

Borderline patients can't win.

And the funny thing is - I asked my therapist about autism. I told her I thought I was on the spectrum.

BPD is WILDLY misdiagnosed with those with autism and I had many clear signs.

Instead - she told me 'If you were autistic we wouldn't be able to have this conversation'. She made me go through a list of autistic traits made clearly for children, citing how I didn't fit each one.

And then she told me that me identifying with the autism community was the BPD making me search for identity to be accepted - and that I wasn't autistic, just desperate to fit in somewhere.

I didn't get diagnosed for another ten years. For ten years I avoided the autism community - feeling as if I were just a broken person who wanted to steal from people who 'really needed it'.

Because of my providers - I began to doubt my identity MORE, not less.

Ten years of thinking I was borderline and being emotionally neglected and demonized by a system meant to help me.

To this day, I still don't trust neurotypicals. Not fully.

I know I'm not borderline now - but my heart aches for them. Not for the usual stuff. But for the stigma. And the asshole doctors. And the dismissiveness and threatening and the idea of institutionalization hanging over their head.

I love Borderline people. I always will. I'm not Borderline but if you are I love you and I'm sorry.

You're not a bad person. You're not a therapists worst nightmare, you are a human with valid feelings and fears.

Borderline people I'm sorry.

[eideticly-strange-one]

Welcome to my bizarre corner of the internet!

Think of this as my Card (or however you spell it)

List of Trigger Warnings Below The Cut! PLEASE DO NOT SKIP!!!

This blog and this post will contain the following triggers:

Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Forced Starvation, Discussions of Mental Health, Extreme Chronic Pain, Cults, SA, Attempted Murder, DID-esque Things, Disassociation. More to be added as I think of them…

I’ve made this blog to chronicle my weird ass journey through my somehow even weirder ass brain. 🧠

About me:

General Shit

I’m an adult 👨‍🌾

I’m a spoonie 🥄

(In my case that means I have Fibromyalgia, Arthritis, every single joint of mine has a ganglion cyst pushin’ it apart 👌, possible MS but I’m too poor to test for it (MRI’s are expensive!), Diabetic af 🍭, and other things probably but I can’t think well atm 😵‍💫)

Cult Survivor

Domestic Abuse Survivor

Child Abuse Survivor

SA Survivor

Engaged Gay Guy 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (eyyyy that’s a nice one :D I’m not all horrific!)

Lucid Dreamer. In my dreams, you control Dream. Not other way around. I started doing this for sure at age four.

BRAIN STUFF!!

Complex PTSD

OCD (but not your stereotypical type. Nope 🙂‍↔️ instead of cleaning like crazy 🙄 I can’t clean sometimes because I’m convinced my dog or fiancé will die if I do! So my trash becomes precious in the sense it’s keeping my loved ones alive. Fun!) (Also I’m a chronic skin picker! Check out my scabs 😏)

Horrific ADHD! It’s so fun to have a vast and useless knowledge of randomness but if you asked me to tell ya what I did five minutes ago I wouldn’t be able to, even if you had a gun to my head 😬 (Forgetting what you are saying as you’re saying it squad STAND UP!) And my time blindness is insane…

Maladaptive Daydreaming. (Say hello to my fake scenarios! … oh… they don’t actually care that you said hi… sorry…)

Hyperphantasia… I used to think everyone was like this. Turns out nope! Ever imagine, in horrifying detail, what it would be like to be stabbed and then you get stabbed and it feels the same? No? Oh… lol yeah me neither 😳

Eidetic Imagery. This one is so fun when you have horrific traumas to fondly look back on against your will 🙂 Plus side I impressed my art teacher by drawing an apple from memory and it was better than my attempt at copying from life (it’s easier when you can hold the apple in your imaginary hand to get better angles ^_^

Generalized Anxiety disorder! I’m generally anxious! About what? You tell me, man, you tell me…

Severe Social Anxiety Disorder! I’ve had this since before I can remember (my memory starts at my first birthday party, so that’s pretty cool of me 😎)

Atypical Panic Attacks! Since waaaaaaay before my traumas I’d just be sittin’ somewhere doin’ something I like and then BAM! Incredible amounts of adrenaline start surging through my system! For no reason! This one took my first psychiatrist a while to accept. He was convinced I was doing or thinking something that triggered me but nope! It’s just random. Like my dumb ass 😁

Dyscalculia! I read numbers backwards! Do math backwards! I cannot judge distance to save my life! Reading one of those round clock things is impossible! I cannot tell left from right! Even though my Dad tried to ‘train me’ by saying which side he was going to punch and I had duck in the other direction! If I didn’t get punched it was pure dumb luck 🍀

Dyslexia! ‘Cause why not have another Dys syndrome! I have made progress on this one however, by a considerable amount, because I’m a writer (against my will be eh) 📖

Autism. If you call me ‘Aspie’ I will find your ass. And no, I will not be nice. My object of study (special interest is demeaning, don’t @ me) is vague af. It’s stories. And horror. Horror stories REALLY scratch that itch. I read stories and watch/read/view horror from around the globe and am compulsed to compare and contrast. I’ve found you never really learn a new culture until you’ve absorbed their stories into your soul.

Now it’s time for the ACTUALLY weird shit!

Ever since I can remember, if I thought something, I would see that instead of what my eyes were looking at! It took me until fourteen to learn how to make it a transparent-ish overlay instead of blacking out my vision! Walked into a lot of doors and poles. Sometimes houses. Once a barn. Many trees… 🌳

This one relates to the first one I think. When I read I watch a movie. I cannot for the life of me understand how people read the words and don’t see a film playing out instead. If it’s a tech manual I either see someone reading it to me, or my dyslexia kicks into high gear and the words jumble up into chaos. This also makes me ‘read’ slower than most, as the voices and images have to go at the pace of a film. My fiancé reads so fast because he doesn’t even hear a voice in his head when he does it. That’s so fuckin’ bizarre of him /j.

I have a mind palace. Yeah yeah go on and roll your eyes. I read about it when I was a teenager and thought it was interesting. I figured I can imagine whatever I want in extreme detail (even things I’ve never seen before), so I made one. I use it to store characterizations. And bad memories. So it’s a character storage closet and a way to compartmentalize. I also play piano in the foyer, next to the main entrance, which is the Gates of Hell buy Auguste Rodin. I enter it by suddenly walking into the foyer. The Gates of Hell lead to any room I want. There is also a hall in front of the foyer. I enter on the… okay so if you’re facing the Gates I enter on the Left side (I had to make an L with my fingers Dx) and if you go right down the hall, past the foyer, there are rows of doors on either side of the hall, which hold frequently visited rooms. I also have the White Room, which I enter to experience nothing. With extreme pain, either mental of physical, I can go into the room and not exist for a while. This does not however mean I’m passed out. I’m getting to that part though…

I see characters from books and films as actual people. Like out and about doing things. As a child I thought they were real. By four I realized no one else saw them. I would still talk to them/play with them often. I still see them, but now it’s more voluntary.

Building off that when I lived with my extremely abusive Ex Husbands parents, (who were actively starving me to death at the time, but I didn’t realize because they had good excuses and did it slowly until all food was cut off very suddenly when I was too weak to do anything about it) I had an extreme amount of stress and anxiety. My ex was in a band, which meant that every single night we were gigging and I had to schmooze for him. I was forced to talk and charm members of other bands, producers, mixers, fans, you name it. I couldn’t handle it. I just COULD. NOT. DO. IT!!! So, one of those characters I see all the time came to me in my mind palace (that’s where they live) and invited me to his bar for some drinks (I can feel drunk while I’m in the palace, it’s pretty cool. I can also eat in there during times of starvation and it helps with the pain). He offered to do the socializing for me. So I said yes. And that’s how I spent the next six months primarily as Dean Winchester. I don’t remember much of this time. And I got into a lot of awkward situations (he was a bisexual fuckboy and I’m gay… so I had about thirteen girlfriends, with my ex’s permission as long as he could date them too… I do know, thanks to Dean telling me, that the reason I had so many was because my ex Husband was so creepy he’d scare them off. Apparently the girls offered to keep dating me, just not the ex, but per my ex’s rules, I always declined). I do remember some things though. I would say I was myself about thirty percent of the time.

Things began to escalate… years later, when I got with my more serious ex gf, things ramped up a lot. We were in the process of buying a house and adopting a child, when the birth mom lost custody to her bigoted parents who hated me even though I’d been raising their grandchild since nine months old (she was roughly two and a half at the time). They knew I was ‘bisexual’ and so thought I was of the devil. I never saw my child again (she was MY child. I still mourn her loss. It’s so strange to mourn someone who’s still alive). After that the characters in my head started coming out without talking to me first. Whenever my emotions got to be too much it was like a failsafe kicked in and they’d come out. Idk how else to explain it. My ex gf caught on, and at first was convinced I had Dissociative Identity Disorder which meant I was therefore dangerous. She was afraid to sleep next to me in case I had an ‘Evil alter’ who’d kill her on her sleep. Eventually she got over that and decided to start learned manipulating me via the characters. If I didn’t want to or couldn’t do something, someone in my head probably could. She’d purposefully trigger them to get her way and then gaslight me about it. My ability to speak with most characters was very limited at that time, so she got away with it for a while. She explained my blank periods as me being blackout drunk, having a bottle of liquor she’d poured out as the proof. Eventually I realized what was happening, as I was able to figure out how to be in more contact with each character in my head. They told me what she was doing… But like an idiot I stayed with her, thinking no one else would accept me. She ended up breaking up with me anyway when I ran out of money. Came around a few times after when I had money again. I’ve blocked her for good at this point 👍

I started using the characters more and more, strengthening my mind palace. I ended up telling my bff at the time about it and he accepted it easily. Never once thought it made me dangerous. He’s even made friends with some of the people in my head. He has his favorites, and his not so favorites xD Btw, he ended up becoming my fiancé 😘

We’ve discovered the characters can do incredible feats of strength and willpower. If I’m about to pass out from pain (which happens frequently) I go into the white room and one of them comes out. One time we had to walk two hours to a gas station at 2am. I couldn’t do it. I convened with my characters and we decided one of them could do it the best (my fiancés least favorite unfortunately). Him and my fiancé ended up going at a march, army style, and made it there and back in fifty minutes. That would’ve been a four hour walk if it had been me attempting it. I was in INCREDIBLE pain when I came to, and was also confronted with the stupid amount of drama the character had caused by being a gossiping bitch. But what mattered was that we’d done it. Well, they’d done it. Some fucking how. The characters can come out when I’m in a severe blood sugar crash and instruct my fiancé on how to help, whereas before they appeared I was a mumbling mess. Sometimes when I’m doing very unwell it feels like bench pressing 300 pounds getting them to come out, but it’s doable.

What does all this mean?

I reeeeeaaalllly don’t think I have DID. It doesn’t seem like other people I know who have it. That’s why I’m making this blog. I’d like to see if I can find like-crazed people out there, get their opinions, discuss possibilities. If you have eidetic imagery, maladaptive daydreaming, FPP (Fantasy Prone Personality Disorder), or even DID, I’d like to hear from you.

I’ll add to this later with a list of characters who I’ll give free rein to use this account. They’ll be able to make their own posts, answer asks, especially if the ask is directed to them, and just use tumblr in general. I’m going to keep this blog as strictly a post blog about my mental health journey, so no memes unfortunately :(

If you’ve made it this far, here’s a medal!! (It’s made from fiberglass and my tears 😊)

[sincelastsession]

BTW I'll probably be ok the nonverbal shutdown doesn't last forever but it's really hard to communicate verbally when I'm overloaded.

My dad needs to have ptsd and cptsd explained and what it does to people and how crippling it gets plus my other diagnosis and that they are real and valid and I do actually need accommodation and to be met at least halfway. Like he's a control freak about me.

It SCARES me.

This session he scheduled is important though. I'm stubborn and I want to give him a chance. Probably one more chance too many but I'd like to be on good terms before he drops dead from health issues or his mental illnesses kill him.

I am worried I'll have a reactive abuse or snappy response to him. I'd like to work on that.

I feel he thinks I'm not holding myself accountable for my behaviors as a 37yrold adult.

I'm still treated and spoken to like a child.

He has no respect for me.

He absolutely will be fake with you like a salesman and watch him flip moods if you correct him even gently.

My Aunts told my mom he's been angry and reactive his whole life.

My dead psychiatrist who used to treat him said he was bipolar probably with a personality disorder and possibly would develop violent dementia and it makes me sad.

It's hard to help people that have beat you down and punished you for being autonomous. The micromanagement is insane.

He does cherry pick. I'd definitely not bring up the DSM book with him and how you treat symptoms. He think I'm schizophrenic or something and my diagnosis actually need to be validated in this instance because I need him to take me seriously when I put up boundaries and he tries to bulldoze them.

He's of the mindset that he deserves respect because he pays for things and is my elder.

I'm of the mindset that he's abused the fuck out of me and I've never gotten respect unless I was playing by his rules.

He does think I'm trying to control him in a paranoid way.

Please remind me to play you the audio or email the clips before sessions with mom and dad.

Off topic: Worried abt my partner, I feel my stress is kicking his ass. He told me I was fine. He had a question for me today and was all horny which I was not mad abt but I had to deal with crazy people

Anyway idfk what else to say.

I'm tired.

Maybe I'll write more after I smoke out for the pain I'll be in tomorrow from being tense as fuck.

I wish I could have my emotional support burger now. 🍔 I'll see it on Thursday before I meet with you.

Dunno if I should eat before dad session.

I mean I'm stressed out about it and I don't know if you're questioning if it's a good idea or not but if I don't have a session with him and don't figure out some way to communicate to where it's not abusive then nothing is going to really get better because he's still basically in control of my financial shit.

Also his apology was basically the best apology and narcissist could possibly give and it's not really even a true apology and I'm really bothered by it and I don't even know if an apology with words would fix anything.

The fact that he made a session with you and is showing up means something to me but I'm also so scared that it's going to go bad. I'll be bringing my extra anxiety med that day for after.

I am worried I'll disassociate during session to protect myself and keep myself from reacting to the lies.

I literally thought about finding the dog training clicker I have to bring and click to give you a signal that I may need to excuse myself to keep composure or just let you know if it's absolute bullshit.

You're in charge with the parents. I wouldn't know where to start if you left it up to me.

I don't want to not do the hard sessions and work.

Speaking of work I flat out told my mom I was about to say "fuck it" and do like onlyfans or something because there's a market for all body types and random fetishes. I could be a findom or sell my used underwear or whatever the fuck. There's tons of legit sites. I've gone back and forth about it. If I make enough money then I could just escape. I do wish I was more an ethical slut. I don't like the gross feels that my flesh prison gives me but other people are keen on it. Maybe I'd hate being stick in it less.

Lucy who is my ex roommate...her dad died. He was just like mine but an alcoholic. Dad acts like a dry drunk.

Lucy used to encourage me to do nude modeling like she did for painters because she thought the artists would appreciate my body so I could see it wasn't terrible in art form.

Because it's really weird I look at other people and their bodies and features mostly like I look at art I don't really often sexualize people As much as I guess you're normal average person

I mean yes of course I've passed by people and been like oh God damn they're fine but more in my head it's like oh God damn their fine is in their fine art

[crys-jo]

Your tags are too good to be left out

They're gonna be so nauseatingly foul with all the PDA and literally everyone but themselves is going to find it absolutely abhorrent and hard to watch. There will be vomiting in class hallways and no cleanup on aisle 7.

The adults of the town are gonna find it all cute and 'aw' as they walk by holding hands and nudging each other's noses together and talking in that stupid baby voice PC Cartman used with Yentl, meanwhile any students who see them in the distance will go out of their way to avert their path so they can avoid having to bare witness to a second longer of their nasty lovey dovey bullshit.

Also, YES Kyle will sit in Cartman's lap and let him pepper his face with kisses and he'll continue talking like he normally does cause he swears it's totally not weird that he allows this even when Stan and Kenny are present and cringing across from them in the Denny's booth as if this is the most normal thing in the world and YES Kyle will ask "What?" when he finally notices their discomfort and manages to pull himself away from Cartman. To which Stan makes a gesture at them and responds with a hesitant, "This- Doesn't this bother you?" before Kyle gets all passive aggressive because "Is there something I should be bothered by?" His gay ass is already crossing his arms in confrontation and Cartman has finally stopped peppering his face with kisses to look at the other two with a quirked eyebrow. The broship has never taken such a toll.

If they ever got together the whole school would collectively decide after the first week to hold an intervention via assembly in which every student who has had issues with their relationship gets two minutes max each to share their grievance when up to the podium. Everybody, including butters, would be lined the fuck up with an entire written out dissertation on how their behavior has affected their mental and physical health and well-being with signed and dated notes from school nurses, doctors and psychiatrists as evidence, meanwhile Kyle is furious that they had enough time and energy to bitch about his relationship instead of doing their homework or focusing on an actual problem in the world. The entire time Cartman has an arm draped over Kyles shoulders, shushing him as he pats and rocks him like you would a petulant child who's about to throw a tantrum before telling him "it's alright babe, they're just homophobic, they'll never understand our love cause we're not skinny yaoi boys like tweek and craig" or some stupid shit like that. Kyle would literally be shaking with fury, his grit teeth about to snap from tension, his hands dug so far into his arms they're practically ripping holes through his clothes and if it weren't for Cartman calming him down, this assembly would have already become a massacre.

Kyle coming out to stan abt dating cartman and the latter has to endure a Crackbaby 2.0, not able to speak at ALL bc god help anyone who tries to interrupt Kyle when he goes into justification mode.

Kyle pulls out charts and psych books and shit like being with cartman is high risk high reward business venture and all stan was gonna say was “I mean yeah.🧍‍♂️okay”

[violentivy]

This is not an April fool's post, in spite of being posted April 1st.

In 20 days, my oldest son turns 18.

It has been 9 years since we were last able to visit for a protracted period of time.

I'm so sick of having to use back channels, but I'm grateful they exist.

When will this insanity end? This isn't my fault and I do not deserve to be punished.

The state decided I wasn't allowed to have a family because I couldn't read social queues in a situation that is still as clear as mud.

I used to get angry for my kids being deprived of a somewhat normal childhood with their actual Mom.

I used to get mad for my daughter, who doesn't get to see her brothers anymore.

But now, I'm just angry for me, because yes, my kids did life a life away from me, but they have been well loved and taken care of, for the most part.

But the state deadass looked at my Autistic ass and said "you can't see social queues, so you can't parent."

So, now I am angry for me. But also feel that I need to fight for my Autistic children, that they may have families should they choose to.

There is a hearing next month to talk about removing my name from the central registry for child abuse and neglect. The laws have changed and the "failure to protect" charge I admitted to would turn into a charge of "confirmed serious neglect", which doesn't sound right or fair for my case. The state has all but agreed to that.

This is largely pointless; it won't bring my kids back to me. It won't change anything about the custody arrangements, but it will allow me to clear a blemish from my name that doesn't deserve to be there.

Because I DID listen to my daughter. I did go through other cases, I did what I was asked to. The only thing I didn't do, is execute my tasks perfectly.

I forgot to lock a door before bed, y'all. I saw a few weird things but no strong signs that something was awry.

Maybe I should have seen something and realized it wasn't right, but every interaction I saw could be explained away quickly enough.

I'm tired, my heart hurts, and the last thing I want to do is go to more hearings that tell me that I suck when I am finally starting to get my confidence back after 20 years, but it's important to me that I get this removed.

I'm going this alone, no lawyer will be there to not understand me and proceed with some bullshit I didn't want.

I haven't even so much as told my family.

I want to right this wrong for my sake. Because I lead by example, and there are 7 sets of eyes either directly, or indirectly watching me.

I want my kids to see that even if things go sideways, and you get accused of awful things, there is hope.

I want them to understand that no knight in shining armor is coming to save them, but that they can save themselves.

They do not need permission to be exactly who they are, they are their own permission slip to the outside world.

And maybe I'm being overly dramatic, but the fact is, I think in some small way I'll be able to move on from this.

I'll still miss my kids with all of my heart. That will never change. They are apart of me, and will always be apart of me.

But, some of them may not know or understand why I did what I did.

I did all of this to protect you from what I saw as a real threat at the time. Your Dad was on the phone and told me every accusation was true. He thought that being "truthful" might save our relationship.

Years later, when he'd been in jail for a few years, he informed me that he was on a drug for his hiccups that I didn't know about. That drug can cause psychosis, similar to the psychosis like behavior that he exhibited that night and in the weeks that followed.

The police, CPS, they all told me I did the right thing to turn him in, heck, the psychiatrist who did my psych eval even said I was still wondering if I did the right thing, and viewed that as a point against me in being able to raise my children alone.

He said it would be a shame for the mother child relationship to be severed. He said that we just needed an extra eye to make sure the kids were safe.

I was lied to. Your Grandma told me it would be just like it always was, and the first time I really knew I was unwelcome was when I wrote to grandpa and said I'd come over to drop off the Christmas gifts that first year you were theirs, and that I would visit.

He told me I was not welcome to visit.

You were lied to. That swing set, that trampoline... Grandma D bought those for you. I left easter baskets on the porch the first few years, too. I'm sure if you saw them, you would have known they were from me and your sister, because who else puts little pop cans in an Easter basket?

We were both lied to, but your adoptive parents thought they were doing the right thing.

I wasn't acting exactly sane, either.

Because... Get this, I was lied to, and my kids whom I saw as my very reason for living were unceremoniously removed from my life completely by people I loved and trusted. People I desperately missed.

It's really difficult to remain sane through that. I'd even say impossible.

So I don't blame your adoptive parents either. They didnt go through the same thing I did. They went through an equally awful thing that it is also hard to stay sane through.

I just want to be able to share space with you all someday.

But for now, I just get to have my usual Easter breakdown.

[hannigramficrecs]

Newly Added Fics 5/16

Hello everyone, sorry again for the slight hiatus! I’ve replied to all the messages in my inbox (at least the ones that were sent to me before this past friday), so if you asked me something before that, be sure to check out my replies!

As usual, I’ve emboldened the fics I really liked and italicized the ones that are incomplete.

Looks Like Love by luvkurai [words: 5,987] — (AU)

After his sister's wedding, Will kisses his childhood housekeeper (and first love).

Betrothed by slashyrogue [words: 3,932] — (AU)

In one month he would marry a total stranger.

Titan Arum by ProxyOne [words: 64,614] — (AU)

Will is a botanist, working in the greenhouse of the local Botanical Gardens. He is getting his life back on track after his divorce, but he can't help but notice someone who keeps coming back to his greenhouse to draw, day after day. A man who seems to have been paying very close attention to him...

Find Me In The Dark by Rising_Phoenix [words: 40,131] — (AU)

After a fateful accident, the marriage of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter has reached its end. Grief and the inability to stop them from falling apart has brought an irreconcilable distance between the formerly deeply devoted couple. While Hannibal is apathetic towards his husband, ignores him, and is withdrawn, Will has started an affair with fellow teacher Francis and drowns his desperation in more and more alcohol. 

Light of All Lights by whiskeyandspite [words: 20,377] — (AU)

Dracula-like fic without any of the vampires

The Stage Just For You by CarnivalMirai [words: 6,494] — (AU + Age Gap)

Will has landed himself the role of Odette for world-famous choreographer Hannibal Lecter's rendition of The Swan Lake.

There Will Be Bells by Entropyrose [words: 36,639] — (A/B/O)

In Georgian England, male omegas are very rare diamonds. Baron and Baroness Graham have a plan to build their wealth and social status by offering their son Will's hand in marriage to a mysterious older Duke, an Alpha named Lord Hannibal Lecter. Will's personal feelings need not apply.

Alpha Mart by slashyrogue [words: 63,164] — (A/B/O)

Will needs an alpha. After years of fake knots, half-assed suppressants, and his own damn hand during heats he’s reached the end of his rope. He doesn’t do dating so he decides to waste his life savings and hype with the current trend. Alpha Mart.

Enchanted By Your Name by CarnivalMirai [words: 9,207] — (A/B/O + PWP)

“Now, my husband would prefer it if I got the job done quickly.” He says, slashing down the back of each gag as he passes each man, watching as the silk falls gracefully to the floor. “However, I want to have some fun. Considering you’ve troubled my husband so much… it’s only fair, right?” One of the men whimpered fearfully. Or: The name "Will Graham" is a name you'll only ever hear once.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116] — (A/B/O + AU)

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379] — (A/B/O + AU)

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.

We All Have a Hunger by 1ntothew1ld [words: 12,260] — (A/B/O + Age Gap)

Hannibal will ensure a properly slow and painful death for an alpha who allowed a beautiful young omega to go to waste as this one has. Too skinny for his own good, a stuttering and humble mess. The likes of the omega in front of him belonged at Opera houses and in million-dollar mansions, not scrounging for his next meal. Meek and afraid in some disheveled row house. When he finally looked back up the alpha had to conceal the utter punch to the stomach that meager glance was, blue eyes full of innocence but also hunger.

The Doctor Is In by Kummerspeck7 — (A/B/O + PWP)

Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims." "Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?" "My Alpha's discretion." Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."

Teenage Wildlife by writtenbyizzy [words: 10,163] — (Age Gap + Sugar Daddy)

While reluctantly prowling Grindr for a sugar daddy to pay for his dog Bean's vet bills Will comes across Hannibal, and gets far more than he bargained for.

Just As Poised As I Remember by CarnivalMirai [words: 5,721] — (Age Gap + School)

When Will was in high school he had an incredibly handsome psychology teacher-- tall and sharp with a thick European accent. And now, a decade later, said psychology teacher-turned psychiatrist... just swiped right on him.

We Can Chase the Dark Together by K_R_Closson [words: 16,615] — (Fantasy)

Will tips him and Hannibal off the cliff. Instead of hitting the water, he wakes up in his bed, several years in the past. His first, and only, priority is to find Hannibal again.

We Killed a Dragon Last Night by inameitlater [words: 88,150] — (Fantasy)

Will remembers falling. He wakes up months before Jack got him to work for him. Months before he met Hannibal for the first time. Free from his past he decides to change events and meet Hannibal again.

My Only Constant Is You by TheSilverQueen [words: 25,369] — (Fantasy)

Hannibal Lecter is an immortal who can never die. Will Graham is a time traveler who can never stay in one place. Perhaps that is why they are perfect for each other.

Motinos Kalba by Lyla_Joy [words: 6,040] — (Fluff)

Five times Hannibal Lecter spoke Lithuanian on accident and one time he meant too.

You Make Me Feel (Good) by sourweather [words: 7,190] — (Fluff)

Will Graham has sensory issues. The world gets too loud, he gets overstimulated easily, but most of all he hates being touched. He never expected someone to work so hard to make him comfortable, to be so patient with him.

Pick Me Up by sourweather [words: 6,053] — (Fluff)

Will doesn't go to bars much. He doesn't end up needing a ride home much. But when he does get drunk, he always wants to ask Hannibal to pick him up.

Hard to Get by JSinister32 [words: 5,561] — (Jealousy)

Will and Hannibal had been broken up for six months. When confessions are made during a work function, can they find it within themselves to forgive?

Polar Opposites by Lyla_Joy [words: 19,513] — (Kidnapping)

“Says the cannibalistic serial killer who knocked me out and is now holding me hostage,” sassed Will. The Ripper didn’t smile but his eyes crinkled in the corner. “Please call me Hannibal.”

Fate Is A Keen-Eyed Hound by LydiaFearing [words: 5,890] — (Mischa)

Hannibal may be a successful, charming psychiatrist but Mischa worries that her brother is lonely so she gifts him a puppy. Hannibal reluctantly falls for his little dog but wants to get involved with time-consuming FBI work and not just anyone can be allowed to look after his pet. Luckily, Alana can recommend a boarding kennel in Wolf Trap.

The Significant Other: The Will and Hannibal Edition by house_of_lantis [words: 18,431] — (Murder Husbands)

After their terrible and abrupt break up, Will and Hannibal attempt to maneuver through their social circles, side step ongoing gossip, and deal with the fact that Will knows the truth of Hannibal. Through impossible odds, Will and Hannibal do find their way to each other again.

Dancing with the Beast by proser [words: 86,347] — (Murder Husbands)

In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events. Hannibal is dramatic and jealous as ever, and Will is having a great time without the encephalitis. Of course, it's a love story.

Arriving at the Crossroads by HigherMagic [words: 7,558] — (Mpreg)

"You haven't been my psychiatrist for a long time," Will echoes. "But you've been my friend. You've helped me. With…" He gestures vaguely to his head. "When my brain was on fire. On consults. When it's dark and I need a guiding light." "It pleases me very greatly to be a source of comfort and reassurance for you, Will," Hannibal says. "I have wanted to be that for you, for a long time."

The Hanged Man by justhavesex [words: 13,076] — (Mpreg)

Will Graham had never wanted children before, but he had never considered it to be a consequence of his omegan brain not finding anyone worthy, but the moment he had met Hannibal Lecter he had been filled with want. In which a dinner party one-night stand results in a pregnancy that changes Will's entire life.

I Don't Even Like Lana Del Rey by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 4,328] — (PWP)

The tension and low thrum of arousal were making Will speak impulsively. He knew this, but he’d just finished his drink. There was nothing he could use to stop the question, blunt and presumptuous and rude. “So, what, you’re my daddy?”

A Bad Combination In The Dark by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 1,957] — (PWP)

When a nerve wracked Will Graham accidentally cuts his hand on Dr. Lecter's letter opener, things quickly get out of control.

The Best Bait by sourweather [words: 3,327] — (PWP)

Will is a good fisherman, he knows which bait to use for his catch. Will seduces Hannibal at a party by being sexy.

Whimsy by justheretoreadhannibalfics [words: 3,001] — (School)

Doctor Hannibal Lecter is standing in as a teacher while Professor Graham is out of town on a case. The students start to kind of like him, and become very invested in his love life.

Callipygian by ProxyOne [words: 2,260] — (Season 1)

Hannibal has a lot of sketches of Will, which he normally keeps safely away. One day though, Will shows up unexpectedly and Hannibal is caught unawares, and unprepared.

L'appel Du Vide by sourweather [words: 5,413] — (Season 1)

Will is hiding things from his coworkers. From himself. But Doctor Lecter knows.

Friends Don't Frame Friends: A Lesson for a Clueless Cannibal by LadyFelixTristis [words: 5,041] — (Season 1)

Ear? What ear? Will Graham doesn’t try to thwart Hannibal Lecter’s plans for him. He just does. By accident. And then on purpose.

For All My Pride, You Were the Fall of Me by nobetterlove [words: 13,212] — (Season 2)

After being released from the BSHCI, Will grabs the dogs he can't live without and leaves without a trace

Letters to God by CarnivalMirai [words: 4,698] — (Season 3+)

Will writes letters to Hannibal every day after his incarceration. But they never make it.

Blankets, Coffee Cups, and Christmas Morning by sourweather [words: 6,352] — (Season 3+)

Hannibal wants to enjoy the domesticity. The love, the closeness, the being Known. But something about his life with Will makes him want to lash out.

All These Fictionary Tales by ProxyOne [words: 18,492] — (Season 3+)

After the fall, Hannibal is presumed dead. Will has been declared dead. But Will isn't willing to believe that Hannibal would just abandon him like that 

Seduction by BloodunderMoonlight [words: 7,086] — (Season 3+)

“For fuck’s sake, Hannibal.” Will glared at him, brimming with wrath he had only seen behind Will’s gun. He had no doubt Will would draw out a knife from beneath the duvet or pillows, but clearly words were enough to make him gobsmacked—“Are you a fucking virgin or monk? If all these can’t get you to bed then I don’t know what can.” Hannibal stood gaping at Will.

Blood, Cedar and Dog Hair by sourweather [words: 3,351] — (Season 3+)

Something terrible happens while Hannibal is in prison. Something he never prepared for.

Hidden Potential by sourweather [words: 20,789] — (Soulmates)

The first time you make eye contact with your soul mate, you see a vision of their greatest accomplishment. They call it your Peak. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his soul mate's Peak is a vision of blood and horror. Fortunately for Hannibal Lecter, his soul mate's is too.

Karoliai by slashyrogue [words: 4,577] — (Sugar Daddy)

Will works at a jewelry store. He has worked there for three months and sold less than any other person there. His boss tells him to sell something by the end of the day or he may not have a job tomorrow. If there was one thing Will hated more than having to talk people into buying jewelry they didn’t need, it was trying to do it two days before Valentine’s Day.

[natsu-kage]

*Two for one*

The Joker, in his obsession, could clock Dan Masters as somehow related to Danny. The guard is as unflappable and unfazed. It’s almost like he doesn’t care. Joker knows that Scarecrow, one of the first to try and warn him of his folly, has a crush/obsession with the guard as well. It’s like nothing ruffles him, so much like Danny.

One would think he would at least be focus while he, The Joker, was in the same room as a sibling, but no. No noticeable reaction, no tensing of muscles no care of the danger he represented.

Truthfully, he should have listened to Dr Crane, the mad psychiatrist obsessed with fear. This family is wrong and not human. Dr. Nightingale is good at passing for human, but she doesn’t react to him “baring” his soul. Like she knows the truth but is waiting for him to speak it. He’s described his most heinous act, but there she sits with her same calm face and only asks him how he felt when he did them. It’s like she’s seen or heard worse, which isn’t possible.

He’d think she had done them, but she’s like that for everyone. Scarecrow, Dr. Crane, has been going over his research to see if he had truly misunderstood some part of it and has been pivoting better understand why people seek out fear after talking to her. Apparently some out of towners would seek out his gas attacks to experience his fear toxin. Strange, but whatever. Killer Croc, Waylon, has been given more humane quarter when he’s brought in, he has said that the room he meets her in smells like an open mausoleum, though. Every other worker and inmate speaks like the sun shone out her ass. And she acts like it too!

But today, oh today! The Masters had finally slipped up. He’d stepped outside, leaving him, The Joker, alone with his main target, Dr Jasmine Nightingale. Now was his chance...

But he couldn’t move. It felt like a great weight rested on his chest, his arms where tingling. No! A fucking heart attack!

*Click*

“It’s not a heart attack.” Dr. Nightingale’s voice flouted across the tauntingly short distance between them, finger poised over the stop button on her recorder. The Joker’s eyes fully caught her, where they always mixed with red?

“The administration was hesitant to allow me to be your therapist, as I’m sure you know. With how many promising young therapists you’ve pulled in to your sphere of influence. That’s why the Mr Masters has been shadowing our sessions. But, as you can see, I’ve never needed him.” He couldn’t tear his eyes from her as they shift in to a dark red, and yet at the corner his own he could see the shadows shifting to crowd around them.

His mind spiraled back to his meeting with Danny, her little brother. Oh! It runs in the family! His blood thrilled at the prospect of another to-

“I wanted to see if there was any way I could in fact help you. I’ve been able to help so many, even with obsessions far stronger then yours.” She flowed up from her seat with a true boneless grace. Her appearance was shifting, hair from red to a light teal color and her skin a deathly pallor.

“But, you don’t care about being better. You are actively seeking out your end. Death by Hero, behind a thin veneer of trying to prove that “One Bad Day” can make anyone like you. Yes, a bad day can make a person do horrible things. It’s what they do after that matters. Do they wallow in their pain and make it everyone else’s problem”-she cross the short distance and looms over him, coming nose to nose- “ or do they get back up and move forward to make up for what you’ve done? You have wallowed long enough Mr !%@^*#.”

At that name, his heart squeezed is fear. The echoing overlap of names that no human voice should be able to replicate.

“My brothers have a vow, no killing. I will respect that, but that does not mean it is a kindness.” The doctor leaned back and up-up-up. Her body twisting and elongating in to a mockery of a human form, her clothes stretched tight over a jagged bony form. Her right hand, hands?, stretched down to his head. Her palm completely engulfing face and her long, thin fingers wrapped all the way around his skull. Darkness enveloped him.

***

“CODE BLUE! I REPEAT CODE BLUE! THE JOKER IS SEIZING! MEDICAL REPORT TO SESSION ROOM N402!” Dan’s voice blared thought the walkies of Arkham. Behind him Dr. Nightingale was placing a soft pillow under the fools head.

He knew that she was not his sister, and he now saw her as a cousin much like little Ellie saw Danny. They had all agreed to give the Joker a chance. To see if there was anyway to reach him, help him get back up. Just like how Danny had Dan. The bastard had all but spat in their face the whole time. Jazz had finally had enough. More intense therapy would be needed.

Jazz hated taking that form, it reminded her how effected by her parent’s lax lab safety they had been as children. Proving that the young Fentons would have both become halfas with time, even without the lab accident that speed up Danny’s change.

She had adjusted well at least. Now she was here, taking charge of a neglected haunt, Arkham. The lesser spirits were flattered to have the Older Phantom sibling choosing their home to haunt. Even Lady Gotham supported Jazz’s decision.

Having another strong spirit powering Arkham took that burden off of the Lady of Gotham. The Lady had tested this system with her revived Robin, Red Hood, to great success. Now if that bastard would stop sniffing around Jazz.

“Support on the way Masters!” Cash’s voice crackled back to him.

“I read you!” Dan turned fully back to Jazz. “They be here soon. Thank you, I don’t think I could ha-”

“He wouldn’t have stopped. Like this he won’t be hurting anyone else. And if he wakes up, it will be as a new person. Nocturne taught me well.” Her eyes never once leaving the seized body on the ground. “He could surprise all of us and wake up. Statistically improbable, but there.”

Short DPXDC Prompts #195

Danny becomes the most inner connected person with villains, anti heroes, heroes, by being an independent YouTube creator and interviewing them and capturing their hearts. (Think Channel 5 with Andrew Callaghan) If you fuck with Danny you’re gonna have to deal with every super person under the sun coming after you.

[baladric]

(this is long and rambly so cut after the first paragraph)

re: analogies about getting ADHD diagnosed and medicated at the very end of one’s 20s, i’m struck with the memory of when i played the entirety of bastion with a file i had no idea was corrupted.

the game’s ground textures were entirely missing, and if you’ve played bastion, you know that falling off the edge of the world is a big component of the game, as the walkable paths rise up as you traverse each level and are notably very rickety because, you know, the world has ended in huge cataclysm. with the ground textures missing, i had no way of seeing where the edges were—so understandably, i died a lot. the game was fucking hard.

i didn’t find out this was a game error until about a month after i beat the it, when my brother and i were talking about it and i said, “it was really good but i don’t understand the design decision to make the ground invisible??” to which he said “what?”

i showed him my game file and he was fucking gobsmacked that i’d made it past the first level, let alone beat the whole-ass game, and sent an email to supergiant for me to tell them his younger sibling had just become the best gamer alive by beating a corrupted-ass download of their game (a funny statement to me that he meant in all seriousness because what the fuck), at which point i was sent a fresh download key and a lot of Very confused and adulatory emails asking for screenshots. i vaguely remember them adding a steam achievement for beating the game with that glitch.

i replayed the game, and i immediately felt like i’d been ripped off. it had taken me about a month to beat the game without ground textures; it took me four days to beat it with them. all that hard work and frustration and, honestly, full-on weeping, and it had been a machine error the entire time. it did not have to be as hard as it was. it was not intended to be as hard as it was.

i’ve been on a non-stimulant ADHD medication for almost 7 months, and once again, i feel so fucking cheated. for 29 years, the simplest tasks defeated me. my GPA never once peaked above a 2.9 because i just couldn’t do the work from the first moment i started elementary school until i eventually got kicked out of graduate school. i hated myself every single day for being unable to muster the wherewithal to do any of the things that other people did daily with seeming ease—and i hated all the mental health professionals who told me i just lacked work ethic, that things were hard for everyone, that i just had to take it one step at a time and power through. i saw so many fucking therapists and psychiatrists and art therapists and fucking ayurvedic practitioners, and nothing helped.

i had never finished a significant project in my life without the threat of extrenal repercussions, but three months after starting the new meds, i wrote and finished two stories, one clocking in just shy of 20,000 words, the other 40,000.

seven months in, and i have blossomed as an artist on a level i couldn’t even dream of before this, because i now have the seemingly simple ability to sit down and work. i’ve made so much art i love that i’ve had to open a new drive account to store it all. i’ve written at least another 40,000 words since finishing Sweet Hope, including the 20,000+ words of pirate au. i’m learning how to record audiobooks, i’m getting into proper singing shape for the first time since i graduated in 2015, i’m forming invaluable new, collaborative friendships and deepening my long-term relationships to untold levels.

i wake up at 9 every day of my own accord, and going to sleep past 1 am feels horrible. my thoughts are clear more often than not, and in this vivid, present space, i’ve come to understand myself on such an intrinsic and intimate level that all the clawing and fighting and internal screaming i’d been doing about my gender identity for years has gone quiet like the flip of a switch. i’ve found ways to not care if people don’t like me, to speak my mind, to permit people to see me how they are going to see me, regardless of the actual truth of their perceptions.

literally every part of me has not just changed, but condensed down into a solidity i never, ever thought i would achieve. people think i’m funny now, i keep getting invited to parties and being sought after as a friend, music opporunities are cropping up, unsought, like fucking dandelions, and i've had multiple job offers from incredible theatrical creators. something huge has shifted in me, something that’s visible from the outside, something that’s good. i’m not exaggerating when i say that i love who i am now, when before i was honestly lucky to live through some days, so deep and ingrained was my self-hatred.

i jokingly attribute this frankly fucking astonishing and sudden leveling out of my entire existence to the mystical magic of turning 30, but honestly? it’s the meds. it’s the fucking meds, and the knowledge that this is all it would have taken the entire time makes me so unspeakably sad for my past self—because it literally did not have to be as hard as it was. not once.

[safarigirlsp]

How do you think Jacque Le Gris would react to the present? Let’s say Dr. Adam Carlsen is his direct descendant ( as a result of the events of TLD) and some ish from Smallville happens and he possesses Dr. Carlsen’s body. How do you think that would go down?

Plus Tom Benton is the reincarnation of Jean De Carrouge and is after Dr. Carlsen’s wife for revenge for extra drama. Feel free to ignore this ask if you’ve never read The Love Hypothesis nor know wth I’m rambling about. 😂

Hi!

This isn’t super helpful of me, but I haven’t read The Love Hypothesis, and Reylo stuff is really not something that interests me personally. The Love Hypo story and premise are also very unappealing to me. If that’s your thing, that’s totally cool! But personally the only times Rey or her equivalent is mentioned in my stories are when I debase her or kill her off in fun ways, which I do enjoy 🤣 I’ve also never seen Smallville, so I’m off on both counts!

I’m sure this isn’t what you’re thinking of or looking for, but it’s possible that there is some Halloween content with doctor-ish AUs with Jacques and Kylo coming from myself and others. I’ve been talking with one of my best friends here about some kind of Hannibal Lector sort of Jacques AU and I think that she may have something in the works. She also has a modern Jacques story coming that has a witchy reincarnation element. And I was talking about doing a big fic collaboration with another bestie on a Dr Jekyll / Mr Hyde Kylo Au, which may happen at some point.

My friend @mrs-gucci has some Dr Charlie stuff that’s really fun and @maybe-your-left has a kick ass series with Dr Ren! You should check out their writing!

Here are some modern Jacques stories I have. Technically, three of these AUs are doctors. One is a psychiatrist and two are PhDs.

Witchcraft on Your Lips - Modern Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Sinners Welcome - Exorcist Jacques Le Gris x Lawyer Reader

A Lecture on Love - Adventurer Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Encore - Adventurer Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Extraction - Major Jacques Le Gris x Lawyer Reader

I also have two vampire Jacques stories in a modern setting. 

I plan on adding some more this October for my favorite spooky season!

Thank you! 💗

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003