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detectivehannibal · 3 years

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Pretty as a Picture

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of smut.

A/N: Why do I keep disappearing from this blog?? I’ve had this idea for FOREVER. Fun fact about me, I sometimes recycle my works from other blogs. So if you’re curious, this is from my Harry Potter blog @seriouslysnape and here’s the original work.

Word Count: 1,738

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.”

On the surface, surprises don’t really seem to come to mind when you think about Hannibal Lecter. The esteemed psychiatrist always came off to you as an open book. He was usually willing to share all aspects of his life with you, which naturally left you believing that there weren’t any secrets lurking further within himself.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Despite all the things that you didn’t know about Hannibal, you knew him well enough to know the sorts of things that he has a fancy for and the things he doesn’t. As high maintenance and temperamental as he is, he is shockingly easy to please. It’s a bit of an ironic statement, but still the truth nonetheless.

You could gift Hannibal with something as simple as a pair of socks or with something as extravagant as a brand new luxury suit, and he’d always have the same genuine, appreciative reaction. If something came from you, he would surely love it with his whole heart.

This gift, however, was on a whole new level.

The idea had honestly come to you at random when you were brainstorming birthday present possibilities. Even though he would never admit it, he was a bit bored of you buying him a new tie for every occasion. He had a tie for every color, pattern, and even he could ever dream of. You wanted to think outside of the box this time. You wanted to come up with something that he would never ever think of.

On the flip side, you also wanted to be sure that it was something that he could have for a long time and something that would have some real meaning to him. You could always go down the culinary appliance route, but he already had absolutely everything he’d ever possibly want or need. You were in a bit of a rut, but that’s when you got a wonderful thought.

Hannibal didn’t own many personal pictures. Most of the photos in his house were custom made art pieces that were worth more than the price of your left leg alone. Hannibal never struck you as the kind of man to have plethoras of pictures of loved ones, but you still found it odd. It’d be a win-win in your eyes. You’d supply Hannibal with some photos to hold on to, and it’d be a thoughtful gift.

Then your plan took a sultry turn.

You had picked out a large photo album that would match the aesthetic of his house, and an album that would have plenty of pages to fill up. You kept it stashed away in your closet until you were ready to put pictures inside of it when another idea came to mind.

What if you made a sexy photo album for him?

At first, you were a little sheepish at the idea. Boudoir style pictures showing off only the dirtiest of contents? It seemed like that might be too much and even a bit weird. The longer you thought about it, though, the more and more the idea sounded good. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t necessarily jump at the gift, but at least he’d have something to jerk off to when you weren’t around.

You assembled as many outfits as you could, some coming from your personal collection and some were purchased as a specialty to the production of the photos. You’d need some help actually having the photos taken, which is why you recruited one of your closest friends.

You could’ve had them professionally done, but you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with a photographer and group of modeling experts studying over your naked body for an entire day. Your friend was stoked for the project and dedicated a whole afternoon while Hannibal was at work to help you out.

You took probably about a hundred pictures, all with varying poses, outfits, and locations around the house. You even took a few more innocent photos of you just smiling or doing candid things. You figured that you needed some sweet to balance out the spicy.

You decorated the pages to add some pop and flare, ultimately thrilled with the final product. Hannibal’s birthday was only a few days away, and you were itching to show him what you had made for him.

“You’re fidgety tonight.” Hannibal spoke from where he was laid out underneath you on the living room sofa.

It was true, you had been extremely jittery for the last hour and a half, trying to compose yourself. Hannibal had told you that he had wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening in for his birthday, which you found as a blessing because he’d definitely want to stay around the house after seeing his gift.

“Sorry. Just excited.” You admitted, seeing this as the perfect opportunity.

He raised a brow, looking down at your frame that was practically trembling with explosive animation.

“I feel as if I don’t need to inform you that my birthday comes around every year,” He joked; “What’s gotten you so elated?”

You smiled up at him with a brightness that was almost blinding. You scrambled off of the sofa at your cue.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” You announced as you dashed up the stairs.

Hannibal chuckled to himself, already guessing as to what you were plotting. You returned shortly after with the picture book in hand, complete with a bow on top. You sat with your legs crossed in front of him, eagerly handing it to him.

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.” You explained.

Hannibal sat up from where he was settled into the cushions, eyeing over the cover carefully. It was a beautifully crafted book, the dark leather was absolutely gorgeous. He pushed the bow off of the sides, opening to the very first page to see a sweet note you had written him, signed with your signature and all. He turned to the first page to actually contain photos on it, and a smile of pure joy spread on his face.

You had put all of the non-sexual pictures in the first two pages to disguise the actual reason for the book. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different casual outfits and in different places.

“Darling, these are wonderful,” He complimented; “They’re stunning, they-”

His heartbeat quickened when he made it to the third page, and he noticed they had taken on a new theme. The scandalous photos were enough to knock him speechless. For the first time ever, you saw Hannibal’s cheeks break out into a deep blush. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing one of his white work shirts with all the buttons undone. The only thing you were wearing underneath was one of his ties settled between your breasts.

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, red colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and you went back to your original worry that this was a bad idea. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling, because Hannibal Lecter always had something to say.

Your voice was thick with uncertainty as you spoke to break the silence.

“Hannibal, do you...like them?” You wondered aloud.

His eyes never steered clear from the book in his hands and the photos presented in front of him. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on the massive kitchen counter and giving a look so seductive that it made his belly flutter. The sight of you naked in his culinary world where he spent so much time was a sight to behold.

“[Y/N], I love them. These photographs...they’re beautiful, well produced, and so, so sexy.” He breathed out.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of anticipation as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, his hot blush growing even deeper onto his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming dirtier than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

His lips parted slightly ajar as he loomed over them. Your waiting was patient as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. Your suspicions had been correct after all.

He was going to rock your world.

Hannibal usually didn’t try to make the first move. He always wanted you to initiate sex first. He believed that sex was a passionate, romantic connection that shouldn’t always be fueled by burning want and desire from outside resources. Based on the way he was looking at you though, you could tell that he wanted you BADLY.

He nonchalantly rolled his hips forward to create some kind of friction. The sneaky grin on your face was almost maddening. The way that your body leaned in and your lips brushed over his just ever so was intoxicating. Your lips traveled to his ear as you purposefully let out a wanton moan to tantalize him.

“Touch me, Hanni. I know you want to.” You coaxed.

That was all he needed.

Hannibal lunged forward, smothering your body with his and suffocating you with hot kisses. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you.

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those outfits under this sweater?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. When Hannibal didn’t want you to go anywhere, then you wouldn’t. You bit down on your lip in a seductive way, breathing out your response to send him into full on love making mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x female reader #hannibal lecter x reader imagine #detectivehannibal

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negasonicimagines · 3 years

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Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

#a/b/o #yukisonic #yukisonic x reader #yukio x reader #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #yukio imagine #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #yukio #negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men imagine #x-men fanfiction #sapphic x reader #sapphic imagine #wlw x reader #wlw imagine

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Sorbet

1x07

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, surgery, murder, organ harvesting

Author’s Note: Dudes this is so long and took me forever but I have so much fun with them I could literally care less. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar.

Official Episode Summary : A murder involving organ removal makes Jack think that the Chesapeake Ripper has resurfaced; Will has nightmares about being a killer; Hannibal tries to seduce Alana Bloom.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Hannibal walked over to where you were sitting at your desk in the waiting room. You were heavily invested in something on your computer which surprisingly was actually your job. You did a few clicks before you were able to look up at Hannibal who waited patiently for you to be finished.

“You have another appointment at 5:30,” you said pleasantly although he usually didn’t need to be reminded.

“Yes I know but I wanted to sneak in a conversation.” You raised an eyebrow and took out the earbud that you had in while you worked in solitude.

“I’m all ears,” you told him. He nodded.

“I’m going to attend an opera singer show tonight, along with dinner. I accidentally bought two tickets, courtesy of rushed times, and was curious to see if you might want to attend with me.” Your lip curled up into a smile and you nodded.

“Sure. I’ve never been to an opera anything,” you said truthfully. “What do I even wear?” He shrugged.

“Something nice. I’m sure you have something in the back of your closet.”

“I’m sure I do too. Should I meet you here or…”

“If it’s not any trouble I could simply pick you up at home.” You nodded.

“Will’s teaching a late class tonight so I doubt he’ll even know that I’m gone,” you said and as it left your lips your shuddered. You weren’t sure quite how you felt about this now. “I’m curious, why ask me? I’m not exactly cultured, I have a boyfriend,” you said. Hannibal shrugged his shoulders.

“I thought you might appreciate it more than anyone else I know personally.” You nodded. You would tell Will, it wasn’t like you were having an affair or anything. It was simply dinner and a show while Will worked. It just happened to be with Hannibal.

“What time should I expect you?”

“Around 7.” You smiled.

“Perfect.”

At exactly 6:59 the doorbell rang. You hadn’t had time to call Will so you left him a note, just in case you got home after he did. You opened the door and Hannibal looked you up and down, a small smile gracing his face.

“You were able to find something nice in the back of your closet after all,” he said. You gave him a small twirl and he did a little clap, chuckling. You were quite pleased with the look you were able to pull together, the dress you had worn to a wedding a few years back still fitting thankfully. It was perfect and ended up complimenting Hannibal’s suit rather well.

“You wash up nice too Doctor. Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen you dressed down.” He nodded.

“I try to stay on alert fashionably,” he said.

“That’s quite clear.”

The show was stunning. You were quite moved by the performance actually and noticed some tears had even pricked at Hannibal’s eyes as well. He was the first to stand and clap. You followed him after to the dinner portion where he seemed to know many more people than you did.

“It’s been too long since you’ve properly cooked for us, Hannibal,” one of the women he knew said. You hung at his side, nursing a glass of champagne. You were still amazed from the show and were happily eating food off of trays as they came by.

“Come over and I will cook for you,” he said simply.

“I said properly. Means dinner and the show. Have you seen him cook? It’s an entire performance. He used to throw such exquisite dinner parties. You heard me. Used to,” she said teasingly, looking between you and Hannibal.

“It’s true, when you cook it is like a whole event,” you said. He gave you a look, chastising you with his eyes and you backed off.

“I will again. Once inspiration strikes. I cannot force a feast. A feast must present itself,” he explained. Everyone around you seemed in awe. It was odd to see Hannibal in his element every place you went with him.

“I believe this young man is trying to get your attention,” she said and both you and Hannibal turned to an excitable man. You recognized him, he was one of Hannibal’s frequent patients. At least twice a week he came in. Hannibal swiftly gestured for you to take his arm and you did, curious to how this interaction would go.

“Hello,” Hannibal said simply.

“Hi! Nice to see you. This is my friend Tobias,” Franklyn, you were sure his name was, said.

“Good evening,” Hannibal said simply again.

“How do you two know each other?” one of the women asked.

“There should remain some mystery to my life outside the opera,” Hannibal said, dodging the question gracefully.

“I’m one of his patients,” Franklyn said dumbly. So bluntly you were taken aback. “Who’s this? I didn’t know you were in a relationship,” Franklyn said, pointing to you. You shook your head quickly.

“She’s only a friend,” Hannibal said very narrowly. You were once again amazed at how he handled every conversation. You were beginning to wonder if you had ever seen him frazzled.

“She’s holding your arm,” Franklyn pointed out. You pulled your arm back swiftly and Hannibal let you.

“Simply for support,” Hannibal explained. You nodded. You wanted to call Will. But on the same note you weren’t mad at the cultural ‘elite’ thinking of you as Hannibal’s. It seemed like a nice place to be. “She and her boyfriend are friends.” You nodded and brushed a piece of your hair out of your face awkwardly.

“Ah one of those progressive couples,” one of the ladies said, pointing between the two of you. You were stunned at the idea but weren’t about to ignore how appealing that sounded.

“Not quite yet,” Hannibal joked. You laughed alongside him and still wondered, yet again, what the hell he meant by that.

When you woke up that morning Will was beside you. He hadn’t been when you fell asleep last night. You had stumbled inside, taken a shower and passed out on top of the covers. He was tucked underneath as the phone rang. You let out a moan at the early hour and he picked up the phone. You were too tired to make out the words but eventually your hearing and vocal ability came back to you.

“Jack,” he muttered. “Ripper.” He got out of bed, letting you know in two simple words where he was going. You sat up a bit and watched him get clothes out of the dresser.

“Good luck,” you told him, voice cracking from not being used all night.

“Where did you go last night?” he asked, voice equally slurred and tired. You wondered briefly how he noticed you had gone anywhere then remembered you dated the FBI’s best evidence guy.

“I went to the opera.” He turned to you, a judging eyebrow raised.

“For kicks?”

“I went with Hannibal.” He let out a scoff and you slid out of bed, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Do you not like him?” you whispered into his shoulder.

“I do. I don’t understand him though.”

“That makes two of us.” You felt the bond between the three of you and now you wondered if Will had felt it as well. You couldn’t be sure but you didn’t want to ask him yet. Not until you were sure yourself.

“How was it?” he whispered.

“How was what?”

“The opera.”

“Oh. Good actually. He cried,” you said. Will chuckled and turned around.

“I’ll have to point that out next time I see him for a session. Did you know they aren’t even really sessions? I guess they’re just friends talking,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“I do know that because we aren’t paying,” you teased.

“Go back to bed. I gotta go.” He kissed your forehead and you nodded, all too happy to slip back into sleep.

“Be safe.”

“I’ll try.”

You came into work and Hannibal had just pulled in. He had a break at the end of the day and was now into afternoon sessions, Will’s being the last on his list. You and Will pulled up together and you walked inside to make sure he was all settled.

You walked into the office and Hannibal almost immediately ushered you out but he stopped, curious how the dynamic of the three of you in one room would play out.

“You’ve been drinking?” Will asked, gesturing to the glass on the table.

“I had a glass of wine with my last appointment,” Hannibal explained.

“You drank with a patient?” Will asked.

“You didn’t have a patient in the last two hours,” you said, out of instinct.

“She drank with a patient. I have an unconventional psychiatrist.”

“We have that in common,” Will said.

“Am I your psychiatrist or are we simply having conversations?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes I think is the answer to that question,” Will said.

“I should probably go,” you said, realizing you had stuck around longer than you usually would. Hannibal shrugged.

“If this isn’t a proper session, who's to say you have to go. We’re just having conversations and I just so happen to be a psychiatrist.” Hannibal said. “It’s completely up to Will.” You and Will locked eyes and he shrugged.

“Have a glass of wine with us,” Will said. You walked inside and sat on the desk, allowing the boys to have both chairs. Hannibal poured three glasses and handed you each one. “I hear you’ve taken my girlfriend to the opera,” Will said. Hannibal shrugged, sitting in his chair.

“It was an enlightening experience was it not?” Hannibal asked, gesturing to you with his wine glass.

“It was. We even ran into one of his patients who’s obsessed with him,” you said in a gossipy tone.

“Oh?” Will said.

“I’m not at liberty to give details,” Hannibal digressed. “I hope you don’t mind that we went.”

“Not at all. I was teaching, I couldn’t have kept her entertained otherwise.”

“Hey, I like to come watch you teach,” you said, swallowing a bit of your drink. Will gave you a look and you smiled at him sillily.

“What was the class about?” Hannibal questioned.

“The infamous Chesapeake Rippers old victims,” Will said. “How, who, when, where. Jack wants all minds on this.” Hannibal seemed intrigued.

“I would have liked to catch that one actually,” you said.

“Why's that?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t know. He’s alluring. Or she.”

“I’d bet on it being a he,” Will said bluntly.

“Well you are the expert,” you said.

“But this last murder, I hear it’s also the Ripper?” Hannibal questioned. You leaned forward, putting your elbow on your knee as you sat on the table.

“It’s not the same guy,” Will stated.

“The victims were all brutalized. What was the brutalization hiding?” Hannibal questioned.

“Careful, surgical removal and preservation of vital organs,” Will explained. This was more than you got during pillow talk. You were visibly intrigued.

“Valuable organs,” Hannibal pointed out.

“Organ harvesting?” Will asked, surprised.

“Jack Crawford’s looking for a serial killer he can’t seem to catch. It’s a brilliant diversion,” Hannibal pointed out. You shrugged.

“I’m not you guys but from what I know about the ripper he seems... I don’t know, more personal than that,” you said.

“If this is a different man however,” Hannibal pointed out.

“Organ harvesting under the cover of the ripper would be a good cover,” Will pointed out.

Hannibal looked between the two of you and smiled. He had planned to invite over Alana Bloom for dinner and a drink, cautiously talk about how years ago colleagues thought they were having an affair. Now he thought better of it. Perhaps all he needed was in this room.

“I’m clocking out Hannibal,” you said, knocking on the office and opening the door cautiously. You knew that no one was in there, you had no more scheduled sessions for the day.

“You’re boyfriend has missed his appointment,” Hannibal pointed out, standing from his desk.

“You must have made that schedule without me present.” He showed you where he had written in Will’s name and nodded. “He’s likely at school. I was going to get him if you would care to tag along and chastise him.” He nodded.

“I would like that, yes.”

You rode in your respective cars there and walked in together. You saw Will, eyes open but not really there. You hadn’t seen him like that before and you quickly walked over to him while Hannibal opted just for saying his name a few times.

“Will?” Will turned around and saw the two of you. He was strangely comforted whilst also being on edge about the dream he was just having about Abigail. “I have a 24-hour cancellation policy,” Hannibal said. You put your arm on his shoulder and he put his hand on yours as he stood up shakily.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Nearly 8,” you said.

“I’m sorry Hannibal,” Will muttered.

“No apology necessary.”

“I must’ve fallen asleep.” Will turned to you. “Was I sleepwalking?” he questioned as though you hadn’t just gotten there.

“Your eyes were open but you weren’t there. No sleepwalking through,” you explained.

“I felt like I was asleep. I need to stop sleeping altogether. Best way to avoid bad dreams,” Will muttered. Hannibal glanced over the crime scene photos that were sprawled across the desk to the side of the room.

“I can see why you have bad dreams,” he muttered. You and Will walked over.

“What do you see Doctor?” Will asked.

“Sum up the Ripper in so many words? Words are living things. They have personality, point of view, agenda.” He looked over the pictures further. “Displaying one’s enemy after death has its appeal in many cultures.”

“These aren’t the Ripper’s enemies. These are pests he’s swatted,” Will said bluntly

“The reward for their cruelty?” Hannibal questioned.

“He’s not bothered by cruelty. The reward is for undignified behavior. These dissections are to disgrace them. It’s a public shaming. “

“Takes their organs away because in his mind they don’t deserve them?”

“In some way.”

It was almost an honor to watch them work. You didn’t put in any input that their minds wouldn’t come up with themselves. You just stood between them and watched. Hannibal picked up a picture of an arm. You recognized it.

“Miriam Lass?” you asked. Will nodded.

“She’s not like the other victims. The Chesapeake Ripper had no reason to humiliate Miriam Lass,” Will muttered.

“Seems to me he was humiliating someone when he cut off her arm,” Hannibal said.

“He was humiliating Jack Crawford,” Will said.

“Have you considered your girlfriend as the Ripper?” Hannibal questioned and you scoffed.

“I prefer a more direct approach.”

“This isn’t direct enough for you?” Hannibal questioned.

“Well Will, do you think it worked?” you asked. Will shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded.

“I’d say it worked really well.”

Jack and Bev walked in then, holding a piece of paper.

“Doctor Lecter, Y/N, what a surprise.” He held up a paper and looked at Will. “We have a lead.”

“Maybe Y/N should stay,” Will said, going into overprotective boyfriend mode.

“No, she should come,” Hannibal said. “She wants to be a part of the FBI one day, consider this training.”

“Well how about it? Care to help us catch the ripper?” Jack asked. You shrugged.

“How could I refuse?” Hannibal asked.

You were driven to an ambulance garage. You waited in the car as they found out that the ambulance they were looking for was actually taken out and everyone was back rather quickly, driving quickly.

“This is very educational,” Hannibal pointed out as Jack started to speed to a new location. You got out this time around and stuck close to Will and Hannibal as they approached the ambulance.

Jack was in front and you heard a booming, “Show me your hands.” Followed closely by a loud, “Dr. Lecter!”

Hannibal started to run over and you and Will followed but as a distance. There was a man in the back, his hands in a body. Will covered you instinctively but you pushed forward, watching as Hannibal climbed in without hesitation.

“He was removing the kidney. Poorly. I can reattach it,” Hannibal said.

“Do it,” Jack said. Hannibal worked quietly for a few seconds as the whole of the FBI held their breaths.

“Do you have it?” Jack asked.

“I’ve got it,” Hannibal replied.

“Silvestri, show me your hands.” The man raised his bloody, gloved hands and stepped away. “Step out of the vehicle. On the ground. Hands behind your head,” Jack said.

Yours and Will’s eyes were no longer on the mock Chesapeake Ripper. Instead you watched Hannibal work and his eyes fleeted up to the two of you and then quickly back down to the inside of a human.

“I have a butcher who carries sow’s blood. Centrifugate, separate the matter from the water. Creates a transparent liquid. Serve with tomatoes in suspension. Everybody will love the sweet taste,” Hannibal said as he walked around his kitchen quickly. “Are you sure the two of you can’t stay?”

Will held a bottle of expensive wine in his hands beside you. You shook your head.

“We have to head home and attempt to get Will to sleep a full night,” you said. Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“How is Mr. Silvestri’s donor?” Hannibal asked.

“You saved his life,” Will said.

“Been a long time since I used a scalpel on anything but a pencil,” Hannibal said.

“Why did you stop being a surgeon?” you asked.

“I killed someone. More accurately, I couldn’t save someone. But it felt like killing them,” he explained.

“You were an emergency room surgeon. It has to happen from time to time,” Will said.

“It happened one time too many. I transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts. I fix minds instead of bodies and no one’s died as a result of my therapy,” Hannibal said. You both nodded.

“We should go. I’ve got a date with the Chesapeake Ripper before Y/N forces me into bed,” Will said. You hit his arm.

“Or is it rippers?” Hannibal asked.

“Devon Silvestri was harvesting organs but not with the Chesapeake Ripper. No connection between them,” Will explained, happy to be right once again.

“Jack must be devastated,” Hannibal said.

“We can only hope,” you muttered.

“Enjoy the wine,” Will said and you were both gone.

1x08

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal imagines

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 70

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"So they're letting you out?" Ruby asked.

"Well I've been in out-patient care and I got out of in-patient care." I shrugged. They were giving me my weapon back with a hefty fine and time-served. I guess they were desperate for reformed huntsmen on the right side of the law.

And my psychiatrist had eagerly pressed me through as truly reformed. I'd had to sit in front of a judge for my sentencing but my psychiatrist had explained who I was and the extenuating circumstances I had been through. A mind control semblance was the declassified word.

Horrifying.

"That's it then? You're free?" Ruby wondered.

"All horizons," I told her.

"Atlas law requires you to see a therapist for nine weeks minimum," Weiss cut in on my other side. "For the PTSD related issues."

"This fucking continent." I clenched a fist.

"It's for your own good. Better to not fight it and come out of it with something." Weiss said.

"I can't believe you're getting off so easily," Blake muttered.

"Hey did you get a deal like this once?" I asked. "And you weren't even mind controlled."

She looked away and said nothing. Truly reformed huntsmen were hard to come by and it was easier to snatch them up where they appeared. My psychiatrist, therapist, and neurologist all greenlit me.

"Speaking of, how are those meds they have you on treating you?" Weiss asked.

"They're sedating. But I'm managing. The ones they had me on before this batch gave me terrible nightmares."

"Is that how it works?" Weiss wondered.

"It's not an exact science. There's some guessing involved to find some that work for you."

"And these ones work for you?" Yang asked.

I waggled a hand. "I miss THC and CBD but this seems like a close second."

"The doctors said that those were both exacerbating your symptoms," Weiss wedged in.

"Those doctors have never had an alien goddess in their mind." I was met with a loud silence. They weren't sure what to say when I said something like that. No one was. Because no one knew what I was going through besides my sisters wherever they are. I paced forward. "So this is Atlas Academy?"

"We'll have to talk to the General about getting you a room," Ruby muttered.

"Oh I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Yang rolled her eyes. "I mean, no offense."

"Yeah well I have to serve my time somehow. Military service is probably it for somebody like me. With my particular set of skills."

"But will he trust you?" Weiss asked.

"Better question. Should I be trusted or will I sell you all out to Salem again?" I asked.

"You didn't sell us out. You brought us the relic," Ruby said.

"I… I killed Ren and Nora, Ruby." I couldn't believe her. She still believed in me.

"That wasn't you," she denied. Maybe she even believed it. I couldn't be sure with Ruby. Well I could. She was just hard to look at because of it.

"It wasn't not me. I have a lot to atone for, and I might do it again."

"You broke her control over you once," Weiss reminded me. She led the way through grey halls up to the headmaster's office.

"I keep telling everyone I have no idea how I did that though."

"You're not exactly selling me on this. On you," Blake informed me.

"Not really trying to. I'm trying to remind you how dangerous I really am. How much of a liability I could be. It's important."

"Cloud, how does this whole time served thing work?" Yang asked.

"That's a little up to Ironwood. He could send me anywhere but he sort of has to accept me somewhere. That's what the judge ruled. He's not a dictator. Not yet at any rate."

"It'll probably be better if you don't talk to him like that," Weiss said. "He won't appreciate it."

"You're probably right." I sighed. We took a grey elevator up to his office. It provided a scenic look out over the tundra and parts of Mantle.

Neo was out there somewhere. I contacted her and let her know I was watching for Cinder from this side and promised to let her know if anything was going down. I was sure she was managing just fine without me though. I was on the inside now. I could watch for Cinder better from here. I'd just have to trust that Neo would show up when it was opportune. I just hoped she wouldn't think I was abandoning her or the cause. Because I wasn't. I was still in camp ‘murder Cinder’ and she was a big girl, she could look after herself if only for as long as this charade lasted. It couldn't go on forever. Eventually I'd slip up and something Salem related would happen.

I also let her know I was getting some serious psychological help for the psychosis. She seemed neutral about that, though. Maybe she thought I was doing just fine. I hadn't been but I was glad she thought that.

Ironwood wasn't in when we arrived. That left us waiting outside for a bit. You couldn't really expect him to be in at all times.

Winter Schnee was there though. She gave me an icy glare and I just smiled back at her wolfishly.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

"Right back at you. How's the throat?"

"Just fine, thank you. You won't surprise me again."

"I don't need surprise to beat you," I told her. "You're fragile. Like glass. I was worried about breaking you. On accident. And don't think that becoming a maiden will bail you out. I almost killed Cinder and I was weaker then by a country mile."

"Weiss, you told him?" She looked shocked.

"He already knew. All about the bunker and what was in it." Weiss responded calmly.

"Neo and I did some digging in that department," I said.

"Ah yes, your criminal partner. Any idea where she is right now?" Winter asked.

"I have no idea." I told her honestly. "I have had no contact with her since my voluntary imprisonment," I then lied. I mixed the truth with lies.

"I see. Well should you remember anything Atlas would consider that necessary information."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I ought to teach you respect."

"Many have tried. Like my Mother. "

Her eyes gleamed, spotting weakness. "You meant Salem, I am sure."

"I did…" I trailed weakly.

"Winter, that's enough. Leave him be. Family is complicated and he didn't ask to be born to that monster. You and I should have some empathy for that," Weiss said.

Winter sighed down at Weiss. "Weiss…"

The general walked in and spotted us. He noticed Jaune armed with his weapon.

"They gave you your weapon back, so soon?" Ironwood asked.

"A week and half isn't that soon," I muttered. "I'm here for my assignment."

"I see. And team RWBY is…"

"Moral support," I granted.

"Have a seat Mr. Arc."

"It's Strife now."

"You changed your name, then."

"Arc was a fake name anyway. It was the name my parents gave me." I took a seat. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence I just said. Most people were given their names by their parents. Most people just didn't hate their parents like I did.

"I can respect that. Ozpin has recommended an assignment close by for you. I'm less convinced."

"He did? Why?" I asked.

"He wants to see if you are capable of his and Salem's kind of magic. He wants to train you if that is that case."

"Oh," I hadn't thought of that. "Well I did give his current body some training. Maybe he just wants to pay it forward."

"Perhaps. And he's done a great deal to protest your innocence. You should be grateful to him."

"Then I am."

"I have decided you will work out of this Academy. For the time being at least."

"You want me where you can keep an eye on me," I deduced.

"Things will go smoother if you have more trust in me than that. I am sure your therapists will have been trying to work through your paranoid thinking with you. Not everyone is trying to watch you, Mr. Strife." He steepled his fingers.

"But I'm pretty sure you are." Weiss elbowed me fairly hard in the side. "Regardless of your reasons for doing it I am grateful."

"I was hoping we could talk more about how you were made. You explored Merlot's laboratory and might have insights for me," he probed.

"I actually explored two different labs. I ran into someone in the second, near here in Solitas. Near a place called Nibelheim. He was a man with a mustache and a navy suit with yellow trimmings. He had green eyes and dark hair. I didn't see his weapon, though. He never used it. He said he was the one who made my sisters before he tried to use the laboratory…” I struggled for the word. “Defenses? To try and kill me."

"I see. But you found no more information on you or your sisters there?" He asked.

"No. Just more of my father's usual experiments on the Grimm. Something to do with turning them blue. I'm really not sure. The lab in Anima was like that too except he was turning them green and there were humanoid Grimm that he had designed. They were loose and in tanks in the facility. Tanks not dissimilar to the one he grew me in."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Weiss's comforting aura drew in beside mine. She tasted like whipped cream and clear crisp crushed ice.

"And he grew you in one of these… 'tanks?'" Ironwood asked.

"An incubator of some sort, I'm sure. But to me they were just these sort of pods. Merlot's book has more notes on the one he used for me. It was a bit different than the others. He grew me from a fetus until I was nearly an adult in just a year," I said.

"That would make you young. Like Penny Polendina." His brow went up at me.

"Yeah. Something like that. I'm between three and four years old. I don't have an exact date for my birthday either. Don't remember if they ever gave me one or if it really matters considering I didn't have a birth," I informed him. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

“A great deal. About your origins. How you came to Beacon. Whether you have any insights into Salem’s weaknesses.”

“I don’t really know. And I’ll remind you that I am just a failure, after all." I wasn't really meant to last. I was just a prototype.

"Cloud..." Ruby whined behind me. The noise she made sounded like she was sad for a dog. It wasn't a good sound.

I ignored her. "I don’t really know how I came to attend Beacon. I don’t have any insights into Salem’s weaknesses. From my perspective she seems pretty unstoppable."

"It's impossible to say." Ironwood returned. "But if we should come up with a way to divorce you from her we will let you know."

"Thank you for telling me," I said.

"Of course. Now, let's see what you can do Mr. Strife."

"Finally, something I'm good at."

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I glid through the training chamber at one of the Ace Ops members. I hadn't learned their names but he had a boomerang rifle and he was a dog faunus.

I caught up to him and swung twice horizontally in two enormous strikes that buffeted him around when he tried to block.

He jumped back and tried to fire at me but my profile was low as I came at him in an unrelenting fashion. I palmed a dust crystal and hit him with a lightning bolt that knocked him to his knees.

I came at him with a diagonal cut when another Ace Operative grabbed me with extensions of his aura. He tried to stop me in place but I jumped and twirled and cut at his golden aura. I severed the extended hands and the removed parts dissolved into fading golden light.

I front-flipped, moving on to the new target. I landed up on some of the glowing cubes in the training room. He reformed his hands and tried to beat me but I just sliced through. I flew at him with both hands on my broadsword.

My sixth sense called out to me and I flicked my sword up to block the boomerang rifle. It rebounded back to its user and he opened fire on me as I went after the wacky inflatable arm guy.

I closed the gap on the pillar he stood on and slashed through his aura arms that got in my way. I kicked him off the pillar and brought my sword down on his head. I cleaved deep into his aura and still I chased him as I blew him to the ground level with a massive overhead attack.

He had a lot of aura. He might be the only person I'd ever met in my own percentile of aura. He might even have more than me.

I chased him as he fell from when I slammed him and I beat him to the ground. I Cross Slashed him before he hit the ground. The devastating combination caught him up. The five move slashing attack tore away at his golden aura.

My Limit Break activated.

The dog faunus came around a corner and opened fire on me. I switched opponents again as I flew at him. I held my weapon between us and blocked most of his bullets. The few that got through pinged off my aura. I slashed upwards at him and he rolled to the side with a yelp.

I just stepped up on him again and swung upwards once more. Once he was airborn I had him right where I wanted him. I juggled him once. Then twice. Then again. He couldn't escape from the aerials I swung up at him.

I jumped up to match his height and Octa Slashed him with my Limit Break. He flew towards the ground and slammed into a pile of the boxes.

His light blue aura flowed to place over him before it vanished. I flew down on him in a swooping fashion and tackled him and carried him all the way to a wall of the arena. I stabbed my sword into the ground and beat the aura out of him with my fists. I punched him in the jaw. Then the stomach. Then I picked him up and slammed him into the ground.

Golden arms wrapped around me and picked me up and threw me across the room. I slammed into a pile of boxes back first. My head rocked back against the boxes. I stood up and put my sword against my shoulder.

The wacky arm guy landed next to the dog faunus and helped him to his feet. They turned to stare at me. I stared right back.

A golden arm slithered towards me across the ground and snagged my leg. It picked me up and slammed me face first into the ground. Then it rotated me and slammed me into the ground the other way.

Then it held me in the air and I got rocked by a boomerang to the face.

I snarled and cut myself free.

I landed on a pocket of air and descended towards the ground. I flew at the two of them through machine gun fire. An arm slashed at my side and I grunted but I cut through the next one and kept flying.

I landed between them and just to flex I charged my semblance to full. Then I swept my sword through the dog faunus's aura. He went down in a light blue crackle. He was lucky I hadn't hurt him for real.

I came at the next guy with a front-flip. I brought my sword down on him and he blocked with his aura. Even still my sword bit deep. I kicked him in the middle of the chest and he stumbled back a step. Then I flew at him with a knee and caught him in the face.

A golden claw slashed me to the ground but I never hit. Instead I floated on a pocket of air and rotated in place. I swept my blade around me and forced him back a half step.

The dog faunus stood up. "Marrow, don't!"

'Marrow' opened fire right into my back.

I whipped around and glared at him. I snarled. I hit him in the head with the blunt side of my weapon and he crumpled like a sack of bricks with a large bruise forming on the side of his head.

"Do you want to call this here?" I asked the one still standing. "Or do I have to beat you into unconsciousness, too?"

"I'll surrender. You fought well." The remaining man said sibilantly.

I nodded and put my weapon in the harness on my back. I hope there was more to Ace Ops than this.

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-WG

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watchinghannibal · 3 years

Text

Season 1 Episode 3

I will go back and do eps 1 and 2, but this idea came to me now and I gotta write it.

I started this blog ‘cuz I’ve heard such good things about this show. I was excited it was coming to Netflix, but I sat in shock at the first two episodes. What in god’s name is happening on this tv show????? I’ll type my reaction as I actually watch the episode.

Background: I’m a psychology/psychiatry researcher, I am no expert but hope to be one day. I hope to go to grad school to get a PhD in social/clinical psychology.

Okay I just introduced myself as a psychologist but this rant HAS to start with the deer hunting. I grew up in Arkansas and I know a bit about deer hunting, and a lot about duck hunting. This might actually be a good place to start because I have a feeling that what angers me about this deer hunting scene is gonna anger me time and time again.

If you take 2 seconds out of your life to google-research deer hunting, you’ll immediately discover that these two big shots are giant idiots. They are not wearing hi-vis (that bright orange) and are barely wearing any camo. They also appear to be standing in the middle of an open field???? You need to HIDE from deer you doofus they don’t like humans. Because we shoot them.

I’m sure there’s miles of metaphors that this girl is shooting a female deer, but to me it just feels like a huge eye roll. We get it they hate women. She also aims for the head??? One of the smallest parts of the body? You gotta shoot the heart baby girl.

Okay they are talking about how deer are like humans. If deer were like humans why aren’t there deer cities. And then just in case you did not understand their cryptic speak, Jumbo Idiot literally says, “They’re a lot like us”. Why, sir, did you waste my time comparing deer to humans if at the end you were just gonna come out an say “They’re a lot like us”. Seems wasteful.

WeRe GoNnA hOnOr HeR

Papa do not make me do this, DAUGHTER you sweet little daisy child HER MEAT IS OUR HONOR lemme give you a kiss mwah.

I guess this blog is better consumed while you actually watch the episode.

Will the hot, doggo man is once again in panties. In case you didn’t notice, Will says he will go “cover himself”, you know, like real humans tend to say.

This woman creeps me out. She reminds me of the handful of women who go into ABA to work with autistic kids and then claim they are in love with their patient/client. They have this need to fix people, they think they are the light at the end of the tunnel, the prophet who will actually reach these kids when no one else has. The way she protects Will and hangs around him, stares at him.

Oh hell yes Crawford. This man is certifiable. I absolutely love the plain, stupid US map on his office wall. Quality art. This dude... thinks Will is a savant who is walking the edge of a psychopath. I gotta say, what edge is he talking about? There is no spectrum that goes from psychopath to normal to Asberger’s. It’s like they.... did not understand anything about personality psychology or psychopathology. I mean, I can’t say I didn’t expect that, not everyone is an expert. This is just like the deer hunting - a few minutes researching online woulda cleared this up.

I WILL NEVER LIE TO YOU - OH BITCH SHE GOT YOU! SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING A LIAR WOULD SAY!!!! This sexy reporter is the first person to say the murderer was sick. This girl is so smart though she would never talk to a reporter. Get outta the room!!!

You shot my dad so yes I do remember you, sorry. Why is she walking like she has been in a wheelchair her whole life. I love the little ascot scarf to cover her HORRIBLE scar, how nice. “I’m gonna be messed up, aren’t I” - what your character says when you don’t know how to show instead of tell.

Will grimaces as he TRIES SO HARD not to tell this girl that he enjoyed killing Jumbo Idiot.

I’m so sorry for my sexy reporting UwU. I can undo all the weird things I’ve done! Literally, why does the FBI care at all about this sexy reporter??????? She wrote one article about Will being sus as fuck and the FBI is like this sexy woman has to die. If I had been in that room with Dr. Lecter where he scolded me like a schoolgirl and took my purse, I’d be writing a 10,000 word essay on this creepo psychiatrist who wildly and without abandon “psychoanalyzes” everyone in his path and is enabling unstable people.

Oh no the graffiti, oh wait they did not clean the blood up yikes. Bye mom. Okay can we talk about how this girl is a better actor than anyone else. She seems the most real to me too. Everyone else is like wacko. Dr. Mom says we can go if you like and the smart, intelligent girl is like go where you bozo??? A homeless shelter? This is my house! Damn she is interrogating Will. Okay RIGHT after I said this girl was real she became typical Teenager with spite in her words.

Dr. Mom jumps in to protect her hubby-son Will who must be protected. LOL Dr. Mom straight up told the girl that she can share craziness. I guess she’s a mom only to Will. Everyone else can Suck It.

THE MAN ON THE PHONE????????????? OH BITCH SHE KNOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DR. LECTER SHE KNOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why do people think this girl did this? Uh this man ain’t okay fucking run girl. Yes, piss off but also run. Oh he didn’t even have a gun what a loser. Ooh this feisty girl says bad words to her mom, another Teenager with spite in her words.

Why do we deserve to watch Will dream about killing girls? Honestly there are so many murdered women why give us more? Oh no did he feed human to this poor girl. Dr. Mom finally steps in, geez she really is stone cold when it’s not Will. Oh did that strange man kill her friend?

Does Crawford REALLY FUCKING THINK THIS GIRL MURDERED HER FRIEND???????????? What the fuck man leave her alone. Uh Dr. Lecter would be HONORED to privately escort the girl that knows he called her dad before he went crazy. Oh damn she’s still alive.

Sexy reporter is just allowed anywhere I guess. I guess she’s just too sexy. Girl close the fucking blinds there is paparazzi. Oops. BIG OOPS.

Classic man move - I DIDN’T KILL HER I WON’T HURT YOU *slams her against a wall* oh SHIT LECTER? I guess this show is good in the sense that it is genuinely exciting at times.

This is good psychology. This manipulation right here.

She’s like I think I’d prefer to stay up here as far as possible from you with my little scarf. This Teenager is gonna figure out the premise to the whole show and then die isn’t she?? Ugh.

Well, thanks if you read this. I’m gonna do ep 4 and eventually (or maybe never) I’ll go back and do ep 1 and 2.

#hannibal #commentary #spoilers #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: animal harm

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lostjonscave · 5 years

Note

Oooh for the prompts thing....Jon, contentment, and a pen? The object is kind of random but I feel like we need some happy content for the archives crew lol. Or at least I do because it seems like we’re headed towards something Really Not Good and I’m mildly terrified!

well, i took this in a very AU direction, and then it got away from me a bit, but here you go! jon/martin, jon + contentment + pen, 2009 words.

-:-

“We’re going to need,” Gertrude says with all her usual bone-dry calm, “someone from artifacts storage to come down and assist with collecting this.”

Jon can’t tell if the effect of her tone is ruined or enhanced by the fact that she is currently bandaging up a nasty bite on the side of her hand. There is still a low, rumbling growl emanating from the bright pink handbag on her desk, a far deeper and more resonant pitch than Jon has ever heard from an animal that might reasonably fit inside a handbag. He eyes it cautiously. “I suppose that’s for the best… They have the industrial gloves up there, don’t they. One moment and I’ll call someone down.”

“Did someone already see Miss Petersen out?”

He glances over his shoulder, out into the Archives; they are empty. “I… think so yes, a few minutes ago.”

“Good. She ought to be getting along to her mother in the hospital. Judging by the injuries she described, I have a rather bleak idea of how much time the woman may have left.” Gertrude finishes bandaging her hand with a crisp application of medical tape. Jon would have offered to help, but he knows far better by now. “... Anything else?” He asks.

“No, thank you Jonathan, that will be all.” Waving a dismissive hand at him, Gertrude draws a long metal ruler from one of her desk drawers, peering at the handbag’s darkened opening with interest.

“Right.” He’s given up on reminding her that just ‘Jon’ is fine. Apparently her instinct towards propriety is simply too strong to override, which reminds him of his own grandmother at times, although Gertrude is several years younger. He shuts the door to the archivist’s office quietly behind himself and crosses the Archives for the assistants’ area. Sasha’s voice rings clear across the stuffy space. When he approaches, she holds up a finger in front of her lips, and he nods.

“Oh, is that so?” She says into the department phone, putting on her most sugary, wheedling voice. “Yes, that would be beyond helpful. Thanks ever so much... Hmm. Could you repeat that for me, please?” Sasha gestures quickly at Jon across the desk, and he quickly slides a pen and scrap paper over to her. After copying down what looks like an address and a few further details, Sasha says, “Well, you’ve been a wonderful help. I’m sure I’ll have no more trouble getting in touch with her. Oh, and the same to you, sir!” Then she hangs up the phone with a determined crack of the receiver. “God, what a bloody creep.”

Jon tilts his head towards Sasha sympathetically. “And who were you today?”

“Someone’s estranged niece,” she explains. “Trying to track down her aunt in order to make amends with her after the unexpected death of both parents, it’s all very television drama. Lots of people go for that, though!”

Jon perches on the empty chair next to Sasha. “Lots of people actually live for that, from what I gather, although I cannot begin to imagine.” He gestures to the department phone. “Are you finished with that, or…?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” She rolls her chair backwards so that he can move in to access it. “What’s the errand this time?”

“I’m just calling down Artifacts Storage to assist with some kind of carnivorous handbag.”

Sasha gives him a significant look. “Artifacts Storage, hum?” she asks with very feigned innocence.

Jon squints at her. “Yes, Artifacts Storage. Unless you think there’s a better place for-”

She flaps a hand. “No, no, go on.”

He does, pressing the button for short dial. It only rings twice before a buoyant, familiar voice chimes in from the other end of the line. “Hello, artifacts curation office?”

“I- Oh. Hello, Martin,” Jon says, working very hard to sound professional while Sasha has turned eyes on him like a bird of prey. “We just need, er, some assistance with, well, there’s. Obviously there’s an artifact. Which, is, why I have rung your department.”

Somehow Martin’s smile is audible even over the phone. “I see. That’d be in the Archives, then?”

With some effort Jon refrains from cringing. “Yes, of course, I should have- It’s in the Archives, yes. You’ll want to send someone down with proper equipment to handle, ah, very sharp teeth. It’s aggressive.”

“Ooh, okay, righto.” There is a muffled clatter on the other end of the line. “Hang tight and I’ll be there in two seconds, let me… just... “

“Take your time,” Jon says, for lack of anything better, and then has to wait on the line while Martin bangs around in the background and Sasha sits there looking inappropriately smug. He considers taking off his glasses so that he doesn’t have to see her, but Martin is back before it really becomes necessary. “Right, so I’ll see you in a moment?”

Jon almost nods awkwardly before he remembers they’re on the phone. “...I’m not going anywhere?”

“Cheers.” With a click, Martin hangs up, presumably to trek down here with whatever containment equipment they reserve for the artifacts with more animalistic attributes. Jon puts the phone down as well, staunchly avoiding eye contact to try and stall whatever Sasha is about to gleefully ask him, but this is another one of those scenarios where his attempts are generally fruitless no matter what.

“So! Martin is headed down, did I hear that correctly?” Sasha rests her chin on her folded hands like a psychiatrist about to grill him.

“You did, in fact,” Jon says with deliberate nonchalance. He won’t let her get to him that easily. “Is that significant?”

“You tell me,” Sasha counters smoothly. “Didn’t you just see him?”

Jon raises an eyebrow at her. “To when are you referring?”

She huffs and shoves the arm of Jon’s desk chair so that it jostles him. “Oh, come off it. Basira told us at the canteen, all right? We know you two went on a date last night, so how did it go?”

“You’d never expect her to be the gossip, and yet,” Jon grumbles, folding his arms crossly and shrinking back into his chair. He may have been caught out, but he’s not about to go quietly along. “Must you insist on involving yourself in my private affairs? It’s downright obnoxious.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s not obnoxious, you clown, it’s called having friends. Occasionally, you talk about things that happen in your life. Anyway you were in a positively sunny mood this morning, at least for you. I could just guess how it went, but I’m being friendly.”

Jon glowers at her. “You’re being insufferable, actually.”

“Oh, so are we to expect to see you in wedded bliss within the year, or-”

“Fine, all right, it was- It was actually bloody awful, on a quality scale of dates I’ve been on, if you must know,” he snaps irritably, and there is a small, ugly satisfaction in the way her face falls.

“Oh. Are you serious? But- You seemed so pleased this morning.”

Jon glances over at her again and immediately feels guilty. “I- Well. The first hour really was terrible, and I might even have left if he wasn’t my ride. But he did manage to, shall we say, pull a comeback in the second half.”

Sasha raises an eyebrow. “Well, go on then.”

Sighing, Jon folds his hands in his lap and stares at them intently. “He took me to a… Poetry reading. Sort of? One of those loud, microphoned businesses. They all seemed to have it memorized.” “Oh! Slam poetry,” Sasha supplies helpfully. “That actually sounds interesting, I didn’t know Martin was a fan of that sort of thing!” Jon glances up at her, clears his throat. “Apparently he’s… Performed there before. Not- not last night, though, although- “ He makes a small, irritable gesture. “The problem was that we sat so far up, we were right next to one of the speakers and I could hardly breathe, it was so loud. Like someone shouting in your face for twenty minutes at a clip.” Sasha cringes sympathetically. “Okay, yeah, that’s not great. Can’t exactly have any good conversation that way.”

“If he said anything to me while we were in there I certainly didn’t notice.” Jon snorts. “And the food- Good lord, you wouldn’t believe. One of those co-op cafés, at some point a bit of stale bread showed up on the table with some disgusting sort of, pickled, salmon paste?” The memory makes him shudder, even over twelve hours later.

Sasha sits up straighter in her chair, hands on her knees, and exhales softly with a quiet whoof. “Right. Well, I see what you mean. But he pulled it back?”

“I- I think he must have noticed, at some point, I had pretty much, er, shut down.” Jon coughs again. “So we went outside, and he said I looked a little green- I wanted to walk a bit, so we did, and then, well, there was a- You know that secondhand bookshop up near Stockwell?” Sasha brightens. “Sure, I’ve canvassed it before. You went there?” “For, um, a couple of hours,” Jon admits quietly, fiddling with one of the pens on the desk to avoid looking at her. “A couple of hours!” Sasha spins her chair towards him, pointing triumphantly. “I knew there was- What did you do for a couple of hours? What did you do after that?”

Jon puffs up his chest a bit, opens his mouth to tell her… Something, either that it’s none of her business, or that they’d actually talked the whole time, that Jon had walked him up to his door, that he’d ridden the tube home at 2AM in some kind of infatuated stupor, but before he can start he is interrupted by the man of the hour himself parading into the Archives, decked out in some jerry-rigged version of riot gear. Jon startles so hard at seeing him he nearly falls out of his chair. Martin beams at the both of them and waves before jogging over.

“Hey guys! Er, I’m here for the thing with the teeth? You weren’t much more specific than that,” he explains bashfully, gesturing to his outfit, which looks like it could probably sustain an attack by several dogs at once. “So, I figured I had better be more safe than sorry.”

“That’s not- Not a bad call,” Jon says, wildly avoiding his eyes. It does not stop the blush intent on creeping up from under his collar. “Gertrude is, ah, examining it, in her office, but she might be finished by now.”

“It’s a handbag,” Sasha supplies, doing a decent but not exemplary job of hiding her amusement. “Pink and frilly. You’ll probably have to muzzle it somehow.” Martin blinks. “Oh, well, I’ve got the equipment for that upstairs. In the meantime I’ll see if I can’t get it to bite down real good on my arm pad and transport it that way. D’you know if it can move around?” “I haven’t recorded or observed any mobile capabilities, no,” Jon replies, straining to sound proper. “More of a, er, Venus Fly Trap sort of situation.”

Martin salutes cheerily. “Brilliant, that makes my job all the more simple. Suppose I ought to head in before Gertrude tries to feed it something, ey?”

Sasha grins. “You’d better.”

“Okay. Well, then I’ll see you at noon, Jon?”

“What? Oh- Yes, er, yeah, yes, of course,” Jon mutters, this time steadily avoiding Sasha’s extremely significant stare. “Don’t lose any fingers in there.”

Martin flashes him a warm smile. “And miss lunch with you? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He heads off towards Gertrude’s office, tightening the straps of the pad on his arm and whistling tunelessly.

“You’re having lunch with him?” Sasha mouths, incredulous, before Martin has even had time to knock on Gertrude’s door. “You went out last night and now you’re having lunch with him?!” Jon glances toward the office, checking the coast is clear. Then he chucks a pen at her.

-:-

send me more prompts if you like!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #gertrude robinson #tma fanfic #writing #prompt fill #spot my autistic jon headcanon #its there in every fic 👌

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Broken Trigger Warning - Depression

TITLE: Broken

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: breemaggs

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki helping you through a new medication regimen. At first you don’t even tell Loki that you’re taking medication, you’re embarrassed and afraid that he’ll think you’re weak. Soon you can’t hide the exhaustion, the mood swings and the insomnia that occurs while you and your doctor attempt to find the perfect dosage. (Click to read the full imagine!)

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger Warning for discussion of depression. Rated M for language.

I was a zombie. No, I was past the zombie phase. I was just straight up exhausted. And I was starting to get frustrated. And distraught. This was supposed to be helping me. Instead it was making me worse.

And logically, I knew that new medication tended to make you dip before it picked you back up, but it had already been several weeks and two dose increases and things still weren’t better. I wanted to throw in the towel. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t sure it would ever work.

Patience, my psychiatrist said. And I knew she was right. Depression didn’t work on a time table and medication wasn’t magic. It took time to get the medication and dosage right. And giving up after two increases wasn’t going to get me anywhere. If the next one didn’t help... We’ll, then she agreed that we would need to try something different. But we weren’t there yet.

I knew recovery was a long road; I’d been walking it for years. I’d been through med changes. I’d been through the ups and downs. And the truth was... I was just tired. I was tired of trying. Tired of failing. Tired of fighting. Tired of pretending. Tired of everything. This exhaustion was deeper than just the physical symptoms.

And then there was all the effort that I put into my great act. My mask. That was another level of exhaustion. Pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t... That was hard. And I had been doing it for so long. I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I wasn’t sure I was even capable of being strong anymore.

I swiped at my leaking eyes and readjusted myself on the floor for the third time since I’d sat down. I tried to focus on the fireplace in front of me. The flames used to relax me. Now I just wished they would consume me. I sighed and cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Three-thirty in the morning. Witching hour. Just another reminder that I should be sleeping.

My boyfriend, Loki of Asgard, was having no trouble sleeping. Which was how I preferred it; that way he couldn’t see me like this. But he wasn’t stupid so I knew I that I probably didn’t have a lot of time until he figured it out. Or at least figured out that something was amiss, since he had no idea that I even had a mental illness, let alone one that was overrunning my entire life. So far I’d managed to get away with the excuse of getting up early for beating him out of bed. And makeup went a long way towards hiding the bags under my eyes. And bright smiles hid the pain behind my eyes. And after years of pretending, I was excellent at acting like everything was sunshine and daisies when it was anything but.

But, like I said, I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I wouldn’t be able to keep the act up much longer. I wouldn’t be able to hide behind my mask. Because I was slipping. I was starting to get irritated at the smallest things and it had already earned me more than a few strange looks from him.

Fuck. My eyes watered again and I dropped my head into my hands. When had it gotten so out of control? When had it started running my life? I didn’t know. I knew that I was ashamed and embarrassed.

Why can’t you just snap out of it? Other people have it so much worse than you. You’re being irrational.

I knew all of that! People had routinely thrown those phrases at me in the past. As if I wasn’t aware. As if I was willingly going through this. As if I was just trying to get attention. I choked back a sob. How could I possibly expect Loki to still love me after he found out about this? I was so broken.

I bit my lip, trying my best to keep quiet as the emotions engulfed me. I had never met anyone who actually understood what I was going through aside from my psychiatrist and counselor. But a part of me felt like they didn’t count. Because they were trained to understand and deal with these things. I’d never met another person outside of my treatment that understood. Even my own mother, the only family I had left, had walked away from me after my diagnosis.

Selfish, she had called me.

While I knew that that wasn’t true, the word still stung. And it still hurt that she didn’t even try to understand what I was going through. It had set the precedent for everyone else I had ever told. Relationships? Forget those. They always left after I opened up to them. So I stopped telling them.

And I had held true to that, refusing to give a voice to my pain in Loki’s presence. But it was all about to come crashing down.

I took a shuddering breath and tried to calm down. Freaking out was not going to help and it would probably just spin me into a panic attack. So I did my breathing exercises and closed my eyes. I hugged my knees to my chest and laid my head down on the surface the position created.

Maybe... maybe I could catch a few minutes of sleep... I just had to calm down. I had to relax. I had to breath. I had to remember that, no matter how bleak things seemed, the sun would rise in the morning. Maybe things would look better in the morning light. I gave a soft, cynical laugh. Things tended to look worse when the sun was shining, in my opinion. It was as if the sun was mocking me and my darkness with it’s bright light.

I started humming softly to myself as I rocked back and forth. I concentrated on my made up song and just let go. I just... let... go...

xoxo xoxo

I woke up violently. I came up swinging, my heart racing, confusion consuming me. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what was going on.

“Shhh,” a voiced murmured. “It’s okay. Did you sleep here all night?”

Fuck. Understanding hit me like a truck. I must have passed out in front of the fireplace last night after my mini melt down. And I hadn’t gotten up before Loki. And now... I was propped up on the floor with my back against the couch. He was crouched in front of me. My bottom lip quivered at the implications. I had known my time was running out, but I thought I’d have a little more time than this.

I fought for normalcy. “No...?” Shit. That was the opposite of normal. “No. I got up early and I must have drifted off...” Better, but still not terribly believable.

I watched a frown twist on his lips. “What time did you get up? It’s only twenty after five.”

Double fuck. “Um, I’m not sure. I didn’t look at the clock. I got up to pee and then I just sat down...”

Ohhh, this was going downhill so fast. His frown deepened. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I felt my eyes well up. This was it. This was the end. I wasn’t going to be able to lie myself out of this one. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together long enough to try. I bit my lip hard, trying to bring myself back to the moment.

“I guess I was having trouble sleeping,” I finally admitted quietly, dropping my head so that my hair fell into my eyes.

He didn’t say anything for what seemed like a long time. I’m sure it was no longer than thirty seconds or so. But it felt like a lifetime.

“Again? You haven’t slept more than a few hours a night for months.”

My heart dropped to my stomach with his words. Stupid! I was so stupid. Did I really think I would be able to fool a Norse God into believing my white lies? Especially this God. I should have known better. My throat burned with the effort of keeping my tears at bay. I slowly drew in a breath.

I didn’t know what to say.

His hand came up and tilted my head so that our eyes met. I slid my eyes away from his and he made a frustrated noise.

“Look at me.” His words were gentle, but commanding.

I lifted my eyes. What he saw in them, I’ll never know, but his jaw clenched and my heart spasmed. I wanted to look away, but found myself held captive in his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling in their depths that I couldn’t pick them apart.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked softly.

“I...” My voice cracked. I tried again. “Not particularly...”

He sighed. “I have been very patient with you, love. But I cannot be patient when you are so distressed. Tell me how to help.”

I sobbed, but tried to swallow it. It came out garbled and I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

“You can’t,” I practically wailed. “It’s... Its just who I am.”

I began crying in earnest, my emotions taking me over completely. He sank down to the floor and pulled me into his lap. He whisked one hand through my hair soothingly while the other held me tight around my waist. He rocked me back and forth, singing to me quietly in another language. I fisted my hands in the material of his sleep shirt, sucking in desperate breaths as I tried to calm down for the second time this morning.

It took me much longer to come down this time around. Probably because there was more at stake. I licked my lips and tried not the think about it, lest I work myself up again. I felt Loki press a kiss to my forehead and almost lost it again.

“Please,” he entreated. “Let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I bit my lip. Did I dare? I shook my head slightly and he tightened his arms around me. Please. I just... I didn’t even know how to tell him. I didn’t even know what to tell him. There was so much...

“I can’t help if I don’t know. I want to, no, I need to help you,” he pleaded.

The raw emotion coloring his voice ended up making the decision for me. I opened my mouth and just started talking. It was word vomit that no one except my counselor had ever heard.

I apologized for lying to him. I told him that I didn’t want to lie to him, but I wanted to keep him. I told him about how I was worried he would be disgusted with me. I told him about my nightmares. I told him about the insomnia. I explained my mood swings. I told him about the new medication. I told him about my mother. I told him about counseling. I told him about everything.

I talked until I was hoarse. And he didn’t interrupt. He just held me and listened. It was far more therapeutic than I thought possible. I took a couple of deep breaths when I was done and closed my eyes, reveling in the relief coursing through me. And I tried very hard not to think about what Loki’s reaction would be.

It was a long time before he said anything.

“I’m proud of you.” He said it simply, as if it was just another fact of life. “It takes great courage to face your inner demons.”

I swallowed thickly, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “But... I’m broken.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a work in progress,” he corrected, loosening his grip and turning me in his lap until I was facing him. “That does not mean you are broken.”

I felt the tears form again, but these weren’t tears of sadness. They were a product of relief, pure and simple. This... this wasn’t rejection. This was validation. This was acceptance. This was... new.

His hands cradled my face, his expression serious. “I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hide from me. I will help you through this. You will get through this.”

I gave him a small smile and nodded. It was amazing how empowering it was to have someone in your corner. I had never known anything like it. I knew that I didn’t want to walk this path alone anymore. And I didn’t have to. Loki had made that much clear.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I will always be there for you. You are stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

I gave a little giggle and met his eyes. They were no less intense, but they were shining brightly. He smiled at me before leaning in and planting a sweet kiss on my lips. It was soft and slow. It was the reassurance that I needed.

It was perfect.

Everything was going to be okay. Loki was right; I was going to get through this. And I was going to do it with him at my side.

It was more than I could have hoped for.

#God of Mischief #Lover #Submitted one shot #Angst #Loki #Imagine #submission #trigger warning #depression #broken #breemaggs

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fmddevin · 5 years

Text

woosh !! so i was trying to keep my ooc identity a surprise until now, but apparently i was stupid and y’all found out before i could get this up so...yay!! anyways, i’ll try to keep this short and simple! i’m jada, and this is my second baby, and the last for a while - mr. daein “devin” kim! he’s 23, the lead vocal & lead dancer of impulse, and an overall mess. he’s got a lot to work out, but i’m excited to see what i can do with him and how he grows & develop! he’s a little more on the chaotic side than micha is, but don’t let it scare you off! i swear i’ve got a plot page coming really soon, like tomorrow, but in the meantime - here’s his profile & bio! i’m more than happy to plot with you, though, so like this for me to hop in your ims!! trivia & some hawaii event ideas / general plot ideas under the cut.~

ok let’s get this started!! i promise to try to make this short & sweet as possible (but you know i’m jada so-). but before i wrote daein’s profile i made like a....3 page bullet summary of what i wanted him to be, so i’m going to be inputting some of those here!! so if it sounds a bit rambly...you know why!

if you’re just here for the event thread ideas, scroll down towards the end, where hawaii event ideas is in bold! <3

born on march 24th, 1996!

parents koreans from seoul, korea. met through a study abroad program @ their college, fell in love with each other and the us! had baby daein, who got plopped in the middle of tampa, florida!

his whooooole childhood felt like he was living in isolation. being one f the only asian-american kids on the block, he definitely felt like an outsider. when he’d bring kimbap, kimchi, or tteokbokki for lunch, they’d always look at him all confused like?? what is that

it made him sad bc he always had felt like his different was a good thing, and he’d been raised to be proud of his culture, but apparently not??

as a sidenote kid misheard his name in middle school and was like “devin?” and he was like “sure that’s it” and started going by that outside of home ever since bc it made him feel more american

just throughout his whole childhood he was ridiculed for being different, which was really the start of his obsession with other’s satisfaction and being like everyone else!

so he took matters into his own hands, but in the worst way possible. during this time, he went against everything his parents had taught him and essentially rejected his korean culture. he stopped bothering to learn the tidbits of korean they were trying to teach him, never brought up his culture, and kind of distanced himself from his parents. he always was trying to bring up some excuse for why they couldn’t come to events because he was always embarrassed about their english and how different they all looked compared to everybody else. just...not a good time and his parents were very upset w/him

anyways onto happy times!! middle school was when he discovered his passion for dance, hip hop in particular. he would always be so amazed by the dancers at the boardwalk performing and decided that’s what he wanted to do!!

sOooOo he originally started off as being self-taught through videos on youtube, but eventually his parents agreed to let him dance if he a.) promised it wouldn’t mess up his grades and b.) he paid for them his own

and he did!! it was Hard but he made sure his grades were in check & picked up a part-time job at the ice cream parlor near his house to get money. it was minimum wage and he had to wear a cheesy apron with this ice cream cone hat but anyways

he could only afford one lesson a week at the community dance center, but it taught him a lot!!! where he discovered his true passion for dance, and tbh spent more time there than anywhere else

eventually!! he joined a florida dance crew and that’s when his skills really blossomed and people started taking him seriously, basically was there until the beginning of high school

tw: drug and alcohol addiction!

and then high school is when it...all came crashing down. being such a people pleaser, he fell victim to peer pressure. he was scared of being looked down again, because by now he’d formed a name for himself and was pretty popular. so, to continue blending in, started getting heavily into drinking and drugs and just...not good, because he grew really dependent on it and started losing his enthusiasm for everything else. it’s something he continues to struggle with a lot, although it’s mostly drinking nowadays and the only drug he’s involved with on a regular basis is weed?? but he has relapsed and that’s a major reason he needs people around him to keep him stable!!

also the dance team wouldn’t let him back in bc he failed the drug test and his drug spiral just got worse because he had nothing else to focus his energy on.

it was the only thing that really made him feel something other than dance, and now that he was spending all of his money on it he couldn’t even do that.

tw: drug and alcohol addiction - end!

he partially discovered his love for singing after the months he had to go w/o dancing. he really started to enjoy it but only in private because he was Embarrased of what others would think so

his parents were tired of his bs because he was a junior now and they were basically like we’re tired of the people we hang around and you need to be around family, so for spring break they sent him to seoul!!

boy was hEated alr. like i said, wasn’t a fan of his culture, he had to leave his friends who were all going on fun trips, & he knew NOTHING - not the language, the people, anything.

but when he got there??? kind of actually enjoyed it. he got to meet family he’d never met before, picked up a little of the language, all of that. but hongdae??? - that’s what made him really excited.

he never thought of korea to be a very exciting place, until he went there. there were so many other talented dancers and he felt so at home, but unlike in florida, they looked like him!

so this is where it gets a little funny lmao. his family refused to fund his habits but he wanted to go to a club while he was there to have fun and impress girl??? so basically, he went to hongdae, and tried busking for some extra cash. and he LOVED IT!! for a reference he freestyled to turn up the music by chris brown lol

and it was real fun!! he genuinely had a really good time - but right before he left some random ass man left him a little slip, and he was like ??? and then he asked him his name, and daein barely understood what he said and in english was like “hey i’m devin??” and when the man realized he was like yes!! and daein was like no??? but took the slip anyways and turns out it was an invitation to a gold star audition!!

the second daein read it said kpop he essentially was like “lmao no” and just threw it in his bag. so he went home, and kind of forgot about it all, until a few months after he got home. things weren’t really looking up for him and he really wanted to continue his dance career, he just didn’t know how. he didn’t get accepted to the college he wanted to because of that time his grades had plummeted, and it was hard to land a stable dance job. & his parents were like look if you don’t make this dance thing happen we’re going to throw you into a business job with a suit and tie u need money

and daein!! hates!! corporate!! so he was like hell no and decided to give this idol thing one last chance

so - he submitted a video audition to gold star, and low and behold!! he made it!!

even though this was his saving grace, he really didn’t know what to do about it. because i mean he loved tampa, and he didn’t want to leave?? but when his parents heard the opportunity they were ELATED because they knew dance was the only thing that really put his focus on good things & they wanted him to be in korea with his family and all that. so!! they were like DO IT. and he really had no other choice so he was like uhhhh i guess

flash forward to the end of may!! right after the end of his junior year of school in tampa, he moved to korea to start training. since he had a pretty good experience during spring break of the year before, he expected his life to be better than he’d expected!! but...it was really hard. since he had to live there, and he was only 16, he felt really lost w/o his parents, and his only real family there were his grandparents and cousins he barely every said hi to so that sucked

tw: depression and light substance abuse!

around this time was when he developed signs of depression, just as he started training. because it was when he really discovered that he couldn’t please everybody, something that he’d strived to do his whole life.

he lacked a support system & didn’t have anyone really close to him to make the transition better, since his parents were back in florida and he could barely hold a conversation with his family in korea. this is a big reason he remained dependent on drinking especially, because it got him out of his funk and to temporarily forget about all that was going on.

because of it, daein started getting less sleep, eating less, and all that. gold star noticed it really soon and got him in touch with a psychiatrist, which, eventually diagnosed him with depression. but it’s not something he goes around telling everyone, he has some evident signs but he probably wouldn’t openly tell more than a couple really close & trusted friends. but gold star has been monitoring his mental health to make sure he’s okay mentally. he takes medication but?? it doesn’t do him much good but they’re always hounding him about it so

like i said though, he’s a very independent person so he doesn’t like to feel like he’s a burden, which is why he doesn’t want others to know because he feels like they’re gonna pity him!!

tw: depression and light substance abuse! - end

bc of his more tan skin (back in the day from florida, not really anymore) and broken korean, he felt like a foreigner, but also people would mistake him for having korean nationality whenever they would talk to him. so he felt like he couldn’t really fit either mold, because he was out of place in korea and florida. but!! i digress

he felt like he was kind of thrust into who’s next: origin story because by the time it started he had only been a trainee for...4 months?? like it’s crazy & he clearly wasn’t ready, a major reason for him being on the losing end, but he had the loveable foreigner thing going on so he did get a good fanbase!! even though he was criticized for his short training period

i doubt he was a favorite among the trainees because he’s REEEEEALLY introverted,,, especially in social situations where he’s not the most comfortable with people in so i don’t think he was super talkative.

a big reason he has trouble on variety shows now!! it’s not that he doesn’t like but they’ve kind of turned it into a “mysterious” thing, which is fine to him if it mean he doesn’t have to talk as much

also he hated it because he constantly had to dodge staff & other trainees whenever he wanted to drink or smoke so he was probably always trying to find a way to sneak out when they had any kind of free time

he got a lotlotlot better at singing during training though, though they’re kind of forcing an unnatural tone for his voice which is making him strain and can’t be good for him in the long run but marketing!! so. anyways he loves singing a lot more than he did before, he’d always expected to be just a dancer but they unleashed his potential so!! that’s one thing he really enjoyed about training

basically he’s been marketed as the “sexy foreigner” and he kinda hates it ngl. because while he never was attached to his korean identity, the more he’s been here the more he’s just wanted to be the same as everybody else?? so that’s not helping with anything. he’s always kind of laughed at for being clueless when a joke flies over his head, made to say things in english ALL THE TIME, just all that. it really gets on his nerves bc nowadays he just wants to blend in and they’re not making it any better!!!

it may sound confusing but basically: as a teen he rejected his korean identity to blend in with everyone in florida, now he’s in korea and wants to be known as less of an american to blend it. it all comes down to him wanting to be like everyone else is nearly every aspect!!

since he feels like he cheated & got to debut way too easy than some others, he’s been trying to develop his creative and performance skills so he can get more credit and make a name for himself due to his actual abilities rather than just,, him being american lmao!! also trying super super hard to get as good as he can at korean

tw: drug and alcohol addiction!

he still has some trouble getting around & he still feels lost, but he’s trying his best. struggling through his alcohol addiction, which bc is mildly aware about but really trying to keep quiet and he’s been on the verge of leaving more than a few times. but as quiet as he is about it, he really relies on his members a lot to keep himself afloat!! so he appreciates them putting through his shit a lot of the time more than he'll admit.

tw: drug and alcohol addiction! - end

but rn he’s getting better, slightly, focusing more of his energy into music than anything. he really wants to get into the songwriting industry to get a name for himself on his own instead of just being known for impulse!!

just as a fyi since it’s a bit confusing his birth name is daein, he went by devin when he lived in america, but he goes by daein again now that he’s in korea, but his stage name is still devin and that’s what his friends from america call him. he prefers to be called daein nowadays, though, so that’s probably the safest best!

also this has not been short at all but anyways

hawaii plots!

he likes to drink & get high way too much and what better place than to do that then on vacation?? he’s been trying to stop, but look, it’s vacation and he’s unwinding and if your muse is down they can both have fun!!

such. an. introvert. even more than micha, because 80% of his interactions by choice come from his group?? but i would love to get him some new friends (especially since he literally has none right now lol)

he’s a bit of a hoe ngl so!! hookups are accepted, that’s the one time he’s not afraid of striking up conversation!!

he’s in the red team so like micha, if you’re members in the red team he could use some buddies to be with!!

someone to explore the island with during the night!

general plots!

he lives in an apartment my himself atm, but a roommate would be lovely!! he needs someone to put him out of his funk, anyways.

drinking buddies ofc

trainee friends? someone who wasn’t put off by him being super quiet and befriended it and he’s super grateful nowadays?

give me all the angst & romance because he’s a handful, seriously, phew

besties!! someone that makes him soft and happy bc there are few people who make him super happy & excited, so someone fill in the gap!

#omg i queuef this for 6 aM whY #i was like...i guess nobody sees it??#ugh i'm real stupid #( & ooc. )#drugs tw #alocohol tw #depression tw #< - both are labeled within the post if you wanna skip past their mentions!#pls don't let him flop #i'll rb this tomorrow since this is a really weird time to post!#this is so embarrassing omg

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mentalhealthsessionswithmarc · 6 years

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Success Mentality....It’s all in your head!!

Here I am, navigating the late night posts of Tumblr. Today’s subject is a little offbeat to the previous two that were in-depth tours of a couple functions of therapeutic practice. Today’s subject is based off of something I said today. I had somewhat of an epiphany and there are some essential truths in the advice I am about to tell you.

Earlier today, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. Haven’t seen him in two months and sitting in my session was an intern, probably a Liberty University student. Everything went very well. In fact, I won’t have to see him again for three months. And if everything goes well, the plan to reduce my medications will begin. He noticed a big change in me and he asked what I was doing in my personal life to get there. During the narrative I provided I had somewhat a realization. Everything from breaking down to making your own recovery is all in your head. It is all in how you think.

For some this may be a bit confusing, so I am about to shed some light into this. When most people give advice what is it they tell you most? They tell what NOT to do. Oftentimes when people go through therapy, in order to remember what they learn, they think about what they CAN’T do. They run to the dead ends first to gain bearing on where they are supposed to go. Think about if all someone tells you is to not do this or you can’t do that. Or vice versa, when you’re trying to recover, you think “I CAN’T do this anymore. I CAN’T think like that now”, what do you think is going to happen? If you guessed nothing, you would be correct. Now why is that?

It’s a simple answer. You are running to negative solutions to find your answers. Why is that a problem, you ask? Some may dare to argue if you know what avenues are closed off and what not to do, you have only one direction to go. It’s a simple route to success. There may be some merit to that. But from what I know, there is no simple route to success. It wouldn’t be rewarding if you didn’t have to work for it. And dead end thinking is also another practice in negative thinking. You can’t get anywhere if you keep running into the wall of restrictions. Restrictive thinking leads to restrictive behaviors and you will get nowhere fast.

The key to recovery is all in success mentality. That’s my term for it. How does one acquire said thought process, you may wonder. First off, you have to know where you are. And you have to be tired of being where you are. You have to stop hitting dead ends and realize you have to make a change. Once you dawn upon that realization, you have to go for it. If you’re ready, the change process will be something of a motivational factor for you. Your focus becomes on what you CAN do. You have to leave behind the victim mindset. I get it, you’re suffering. I was too. I got tired of suffering. I got tired of being defined by my illness. Didn’t want the stigma anymore. Once you act upon your mindset and start accomplishing the starting goals, it will open up to you that you are bigger than what condition you have. The goals will be small at first but in a short span of time you will make what will appear to others as large strides. It is all based on KNOWING the change you need to make, actually making the change, and following through. You set an expectation and stick to it. In the course of 90 days, I stopped having the majority of the symptoms I was severely suffering from for a long time. There was no change in my medications. There hasn’t been since the last time I was hospitalized. It was all me. And now, over half a year later, I am a completely changed human being. And people can tell it. They can see it. They tell me about it often.

There is another key factor that helped me gain this mindset. Therapy. It’s not about WHAT they talk to you about. It’s HOW they talk to you. Outside eyes are oftentimes the best source of finding clarity. My therapist was fantastic. Can’t say enough good things about her. She helped open my mind in ways I never thought possible. The thing about therapists is they DON’T tell you what to do. They DON’T make decisions for you. They listen to you and then ask you how YOU feel. Then they ask you what is YOUR plan. They leave the road open and let you take the wheel. It occurred to me that she was not enabling me to make decisions, I was making my own. I was able to gain clarity and the right kind of judgment because she asked me the right kinds of questions and from there I was able to see solutions. I found what I could change. I developed the ability to deal with the things I couldn’t control and accelerate the things I could. I was able to see outside my situation and from there started developing better living habits and finding balance in my life. I made these changes. Not her. All she did was ask the questions a clouded mind can’t ask. Once you are able to make sense of what you have been through, what you are going through, and where you want to be, the knowledge you gain is the key to changing your life. Knowledge is power. The power to change. The power to fully realize how much control you do have over your own life and your own mind. No one’s mind can truly hold them victim longer than they allow it to be. Once that realization is in your head, the victim mentality no longer exists.

This isn’t an overnight change. And you can’t expect the world to change over a few days of doing this. What you should know is you do have the power to control your mind and make the changes you want to see. Sometimes it takes someone else to help focus your mind to break the negative pattern. The success mentality is based on change. It’s based on thought and action. It’s a cycle of behavior, just like what was discussed in my CBT blogs. And to give you even greater scope, think of the word “mental illness.” Disassociate any negative connotation and stigma or negative feelings or any feelings about the phrase whatsoever. It’s an illness of the mind. Whose mind? YOUR mind. And who has control over that? Whose body does it belong to? It’s yours. The brain is but one part of you, but it can make you feel so small. But once you realize that it’s YOURS and you are in charge of how it thinks, everything comes into scope. Change begins with you. And we all know what change starts with. A thought. Let that thought be of the change you need to gain control over your life. You’re not as small as your mind would allow you to believe. Once you take that first step and refuse to look back, your new cycle will begin. Welcome to success psychology. Take that process we did with the words mental illness and apply it to yourself and your situation. That’s how it works. There will be bumps and maybe even a relapse or two. But the key in this process is resilience. If you truly believe in the cycle, you WILL get up. You will continue to. And you will get better. I most certainly did. And I also experienced relapse. I may be prone to more. All I know is I will rise and regain control because I know I can make the changes I need to be healthy and maintain success. Hopefully you will too.

Thanks for reading,

Marc

#food for thought #change #positive change #therapy #mentality #success mentality #break the cycle #self motivation #self help #mental health #mental health month #self awareness #goals for improvement #true story #my story #overcome #achieve #believe #support

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desvuse · 3 years

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The Art of Losing

Trigger Warning: mention of death and depression.

. . .

How does one convey the meaning of losing?

That day, Chiara Ziascha was almost losing her sanity.

Massachusetts was rather bright, slightly cloudy, and she was there sitting on a well-known hospital waiting chair with tears almost falling down rolling to her cheeks. Her fingers were fidgeting with her favorite black pants around the knee and unconsciously scratching its nails against the fabric. Those dark orbs of hers were staring blankly at the tip of her shoes whilst her head was filled with nothing but the memories of the past few days. From the morning when she woke up until late at night, when she wished to be asleep instead of writing worst case scenarios inside her head. It had been almost three months since she moved to Cambridge and it had also been that long she tried to accept the fact that he was no longer there with her.

“Waiting for your turn?”

Chiara wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her and thus, the voice surprised her that she immediately got back to her senses. It was an old lady, aged around sixty, who was sitting on the accent chair exactly across where her chair was placed. She shifted her focus to the source of the question and for a second, she did not know what to say.

“Is it you after the one who’s inside?”

“I see number three on your paper.”

Her eyes moved along with the words that slipped past the old lady’s lips, and to the small paper it was stealing a glance at the big sized font of a number on it. Chiara quickly emitted an awkward and forceful smile while she looked back at the lady.

“Yes,”

“Yes, I suppose.”

She thought the question would have just ended there but the lady seemed to be bored and she looked like she needed someone to talk to.

“Is this your first time?”

“It is, it is my first time coming here.”

“Why did you choose Thursday out of the rest?”

Chiara did not know if the question was important or it was just the lady who simply wanted a conversation. She did not mean to be rude or disrespectful but frankly, she did not plan to speak to anyone today. Although the psychiatrist was an exception. Yet, out of respect, Chiara managed to say something.

“Because I have no other option. I did not actually get to choose, other days are said to be fully booked. And Thursday is all I have left.”

Losing was, too, not an option. She didn’t get to choose whether or not she wanted to lose him. Her answer would be a definite no, everyone in her position would have answered the same. That, if the deity had the game of choosing and everyone was invited to play along just every single time a decision was about to be made. No one gets to choose when they are losing, everyone hates to lose. And for her, the game of goodbye was never something that she would have ever wanted to play.

Just like the moment when she had to move to Cambridge and leave Hopkinton for the sake of herself, for the sake of moving on with life. She did not get to choose, she had no other option but to move, just anywhere. Somewhere that was completely different from Hopkinton. As much as her heart wanted to stay and no matter how suffocating it was to just travel 23 miles away from the place where she should have built her small, loving family. She had to move, she needed to move. Cambridge was her best deal, it was not very much far from Hopkinton. In fact, she only needed to spend half an hour to go to Hopkinton just in case she ever missed something from the small town.

Because a part of her still wanted to stay.

“You are not from here, are you?”

“I’m not. I’ve just moved not long ago. From Hopkinton.”

The old lady seemed surprised that she straightened her sitting position just as soon as she heard the name of the town.

“Oh, really? Hopkinton?”

“My son lives there.”

They used to live there, too. It was a magical two years for her but a part of her died in Hopkinton and if she could, she would have asked to not move to Hopkinton. She would have stayed in Melbourne and perhaps, by that, she did not have to lose him. All those ‘it might have been’ scenarios inside her head were so much more than what she was capable of handling. Thus, it led her to exactly where she was sitting across that old lady who kept on asking her questions.

“Oh, really?” muttered Chiara as she shifted her focus back to the tip of her shoes. Every little memory that she had there was suddenly replaying inside the headspace of hers.

“Yes.”

“Why did you move here?”

Because I had to. One could never describe the struggle of moving on. Some don’t even believe in that particular term. Some said it is too complicated. Some simply just don’t know. Chiara, too, did not know what it meant to move on. One would have no word to say about the excruciating pain of losing. To begin moving on from the past, they said one needs to accept the reality and let go. But a part of her still couldn’t accept the fact and she frankly thought that she would never want to. A part of her lived in Hopkinton along with the past two years of the life she spent together with him. A part of her stayed in Hopkinton and she never wished to get out of the place. And a part of her desperately wanted to change everything.

Humans with all of its emotions. Complex and unfathomable at times. Losing was never something that she liked. If anything, it had always been something that she deeply loathed. He was hers for years, she invested almost, nearly everything, just all of her life for him. To say that he was beautiful would sound so much like a simple term she always chose to describe him. He was so much, so much more than beautiful. He was the love that Chiara would never dare to question. It was pure, so pure that her heart could burst just thinking of him. He was the love that Chiara could never lose. But she did.

She lost him.

“Work.”

It was a lie that Chiara chose to tell instead of explaining and recalling all the painful truth. She thought that would be best to keep it short and simple. She brushed her fingers through her hair, trying so hard to act normal, to act like it was nothing, to not cry or shed a tear in front of the old lady. Truth be told, even if she wanted to tell everyone about what she went through, the words halted in the middle of her throat just before she could utter even a single word, tongue-tied. A part of her thought it was completely her fault that he left and she deserved to feel the pain, as if the deity asked her to keep it all inside because she had to taste every painful sorrow because of what she did.

“The place is nice. I guess that is the reason why he barely visits me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he hates me.”

Perhaps, he hated her, too. Perhaps, that was the reason why sometimes she thought that it was better that he left. It was the fair punishment that she deserved. But a part of her said that if she were to be walking in the old lady’s shoes, Chiara would prefer to be hated rather than to be left. Because if that was the case, deep down she knew that it meant he existed, he lived. She did not have to bear the pain of watching him dying during his last breath, she did not have to live her life avoiding cars and vehicles all her life. She did not have to face his death. And even if he did not want to see her, she could at least have the chance to see him. She did not have to bear the pain of watching him dying during his last breath, she did not have to live her life avoiding cars and vehicles all her life. She did not have to face his death. She would still have the hope of getting him back into her embrace. She could still hope that he would return.

But he never did.

“Are you married? Or do you have a child?”

There was a long, painful silence upon hearing the question that slipped out of the old lady’s lips. Her mouth felt so dry, as if it could bleed just whenever she began to speak. The world stopped moving, everything stopped moving. The question crossed her heart, so deep that it went straight past herself. She lost it. It was hard for her to breath and everything felt so suffocating. The clock ticked so loud in every second, her heart beat slower that it nearly died, her sight was getting blurry. She could feel the pain pervaded throughout her whole body. In a split of seconds, Chiara forced herself to get up and yet she fell. She fell onto the floor and she couldn’t help it. Everything just hurt.

“Miss! Miss!”

“Are you okay?!”

“Miss!”

Some women were shouting out her name, she heard it echoed inside her head, vaguely so. Her eyes blinked slowly with the faint sight of the old lady and a few more people trying to help her. She lost it. She lost him. She lost everything. Yet she pushed herself to answer the old lady’s question in between her tattered breathing, just right before everything went black.

“I have.. He..”

“My son.. He was alive..”

There is a term for someone who’s lost their parents, wife, husband; but not a single term exists for someone who’s lost their child.

How does one convey the meaning of losing?

The Art of Losing: End Part.

#the-others

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diaryofanormalkid · 3 years

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I’m sad.

Pretty sure it’s a combo of me being on my period, getting seasonal affective depression and my preexisting depression as a side effect of ADHD burnout, guilt, shame etc.

But yeaaah I’ve truly been hella in my feelings this week. Today it hits hard bc weekends are usually really hard for me anyways. I always have a hard time taking care of myself.

Idk what it is about weekends that make me so helpless and careless. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to go anywhere, I have no desire to do anything but rest and recover.

That includes not caring about hygiene either, unfortunately. I haven’t showered since Thursday night since I skipped last night. Haven’t brushed my teeth since 6am.

And that was only because I woke up out of my sleep from being so hot and forgetting I didn’t brush my teeth before I fell asleep last night. So I did that and went straight to sleep.

Idk today been pretty much a bust bc I haven’t done anything productive. Only ate one ~real~ meal today so I’m starving, but dinner is ready so I think I’ll go eat soon.

I’m just very moody and would rather not be around anyone rn but my mom keeps bothering me by coming into my room and asking if “I’m feeling it” it meaning depressed.

Can’t you tell miss? It’s like no, I guess she’s never been able to tell. That’s the problem. Bc I don’t communicate but she also can’t just read my emotions if I don’t tell her anything.

I’m not sure why I expect people to be able to help me when I don’t express that I’m feeling like crap when I’m feeling like crap. I would think from my actions it’s pretty obvious.

But I guess after 23 of acting like I have mood swings, they’ve never been able to tell. So why do I assume just bc I had my breakdown way back in May and explained it, they can now?

My mood is very genuinely: disappointed but not surprised. It’s like I always knew even if I opened up, they’d never support me or be able to help me in the ways I need.

But I also am not doing anything to help myself when I don’t open up to them. I guess it’s my fault. But also I feel like they never learned anything from what I told them.

This is why I explained to my mom that there’s only a little sense of relief because they still don’t understand me or try to understand me. I still am being neglected like before.

So it’s almost like nothing changed except me just deciding to be happier and have a positive attitude about things. And that can only take me so far if no one else is helping.

It just still feels like I’m alone and no one is there to fully understand or support me bc they don’t get it. They don’t know what’s in my head, which is the loneliest feeling.

They’ll never understand my struggle of feeling like you will never get past the point of not being able to function by myself. I just feel like I’m so behind. I won’t get anywhere.

Do you know how much it hurts to not be able to do basic tasks everyday because of the way your brain is wired? It’s literally the most tiring, draining, upsetting and frustrating thing ever.

And then feeling like if you explained it to your family, they would just try to give you tips to counteract it or tell you, it’s something you can get past with only God.

My mom when I told her I for sure have ADHD almost dismissed it. It’s like she acknowledged it for 0.2 seconds bc she saw I broke down and it made me upset, then moved past it.

She moved right on because she thinks God can just take it away like it hasn’t been a part of my life for 23 years. And I tried to explain to her yes I believe He can, but is He meant to?

Like bc He made me this way. I don’t believe He made a mistake. But she’s making it seem like it’s a problem that needs to be fixed by Him. And I’m trying to explain what if that wasn’t His intention?

She’s so stuck on the fact that she wants me to get past it and be done with it. And I don’t think that’s something that can just be fixed and done.

I know God heals and God restores. But that’s not the kind of support I need rn. I need you to acknowledge this is something that I’ve struggled with MY WHOLE LIFE.

Has set me back so many times for so many different things without me even knowing I had it. I’m sorry if I’m having a hard time getting over it, but it’s affected me in so many ways.

I can’t just get over it that easily! I’m offended that she thinks I can. Bc everyday I realize more and more how it has and does affect me and how very real it has always been.

And she likes to just think it’s going to ~go away~ suddenly. She isn’t supportive of me taking meds either so it’s like... what is the solution bc it doesn’t get cured just treated.

She skipped a step by trying to ask how can we ~fix~ this as if it’s something that has a cure. First of all if you’ve done any research, you’ll realize it’s not something that can be cured.

So then she’s asking ME what I want to do about it to help myself and I’m like IDK if I did, I don’t think we’d be in this mess, now would we? Like you already declined the meds suggestion.

Like it’s the emotional unavailability for me. You tell me to open up but when you do, it’s always you suggesting solutions or saying you struggled with this too or dismissing me.

Sometimes I just need you to listen, be there and hear what I’m SAYING. This is what I’m STRUGGLING with. There doesn’t always have to be a solution. Just be my mom.

Not my therapist, counsellor or psychiatrist. Yes, IK you’re trying to be practical. But practical isn’t getting us anywhere. And I’m just tired. I’m so fricking tired of it all.

I’m just so tired.

Life is so hard. And it’s even harder knowing that many of my problems are just mental and since people can’t see that, they’d probably think I’m over exaggerating my struggles.

Like nobody takes your struggles seriously when they’re mental bc you can’t measure them and there’s no way of knowing what the person is really going through.

EVERYDAY doing minimal tasks is the most brutal, dreadful thing. Just to WAKE UP and do tasks and homework is so hard for me. And no one will get that...

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thebibliomancer · 6 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #161: Beware the Ant-Man!

July, 1977

There’s just so much here.

I almost don’t want to talk about it. It glistens like a soap bubble and I’m afraid it will pop if I try to grasp it.

What I will say is this: the title and the poses of angry agony (angrony?) remind me very much of those Man’s Life magazine covers. The ones where shirtless men have knife fights with nature?

Also, I don’t know what Scarlet Witch is up to. It almost seems like she’s trying to pose sensuously but also is being bitten by countless ants. But is trying to make it work.

Anyway, take a moment to enjoy or be baffled by this cover while I get things started over here.

We start bewaring the Ant-Man with a nice splash panel seen from inside a panel as Ant-Man peeps in on some weirdos intruding in Tony Stark’s mansion.

Wait. I recognize these weirdos. I’d recognize Wanda’s inexplicable hair and Iron Tony’s incredible bossy way of pointing anywhere.

But they are weirdos.

For example, they’re all standing around admiring Wonder Man’s latest travesty of fashion. He had to get new threads after his jerkass brother shredded his old costume.

The Beast designed it for him.

And its easy to mock. I do it twice a week. But keep in mind that Beast only wears shorts. And before that I think Professor X dressed him. So. Yeah. He’s. Not great at designing new costumes.

And Wonder Man has been dead and dressed like an idiot for years so we can forgive him for not knowing any better.

But I’m very slightly surprised at you, Wanda. Don’t enable this.

Wonder Man’s turn on the figurative catwalk is cut short as a tiny voice demands Iron Man’s attention. If he really is Iron Man.

Of course its Ant-Man and he’s here for the first official meeting of the Avengers (haha whaaaaat?) but he doesn’t recognize all these strangers. Except Captain America but everybody knows Captain America is dead. And also, where are Hulk and Thor? And whats the deal with changing out of your golden armor?

So either this is a bad imposter or Hank Pym was rebooted all the way back to the time of Avengers #1. And I can’t go back to that overly controlling Hank, I just can’t.

When the ‘strangers’ don’t immediately fall over themselves to explain everything to him, Ant-Man immediately leaps to attack with the greatest power of all: a ludicrous number of ants.

So he has a swarm fly right into Iron Man’s mask through the eye slits and god that is just a nightmare. Biting his eyes and whatnot.

And then he launches himself right at Cap’s chin to play him some chin music. By punching him. That’s what you get for identity theft, friend!

Wanda is distracted by oh god ants ants everywhere crawling all over ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so she can’t bring her vague powers to bear. And there’s so many tiny things flying around that Wonder Man can’t keep track of Ant-Man. At least he, Wonder Man, is personally safe from any and all things that Ant-Man could do.

Womp womp.

Meanwhile, in the records room, Beast was brushing up on all Avengers history. Because you gotta do your homework. Especially if it prevents him from being uninformed when some asshole from the Avengers’ past like Grim Reaper pops up again.

But Black Panther hears something so he and Beast go to investigate.

And immediately get KO’d by Ant-Man doing a growing double shoryuken.

Because apparently growth physics works thusly: you can add your momentum from a grow or shrink to add oomph to an attack. I think its sometimes called Shrink Fu.

I know people mock shrinking heroes and in-universe Hank Pym has a lot of insecurity about his role on the Avengers (Wasp never seems to have problems. She just loves Wasping, all the Wasp time).

And Ant-Man, Yellowjacket, Wasp, whathaveyou are often played up as ineffectual.

But looking here at this fight, its clear that ants is a great power and that shrinking can be used effectively.

By writer fiat. But usually its not, also by writer fiat.

The writers go through all these permutations and changes for Hank Pym to try to make him interesting when they could just write him better.

And for that matter, Wasp. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be able to pull off just this kind of effectiveness but with also bio-electricity blasts and flying.

Just write your damn characters better, Avengers writers. If you put a person on the team, let them be effective.

Anyway.

Vision is a little better off. He went partially intangible so he can’t be hurt and the ants that intersect his body get shocked. So he’s untouchable but he can’t help anyone. Because he’s untouchable.

He especially can’t help Wanda who is experiencing the agony of the ant pile. There’s just so many ants. Just so, so many.

Why don’t the Avengers have a chemical safety shower or anything? Why aren’t they trying to do anything??

But suddenly Wasp flies in to save the day. As Ant-Man Hank has no counter to her Wasp’s sting, like Yellowjacket’s disruptor gun. So she just blats him off Anthony.

Ant-Hank plummets toward the ground but thankfully, Wonder Man catches him.

Which. I mean. At such a tiny mass, the fall should have been nothing. But if it was something, then hitting Wonder Man’s supertough skin slightly higher than the floor is hardly better.

But the comic treats it as saving him from a potentially dangerous fall so lets just roll with it.

Tiny Wasp activates some gas canisters to grow Hank back to full size because I guess in addition to a pill and serum, Pym particles also come in aerosol sprays.

And with Hank full sized unconscious in Wonder Man’s arms, Wasp unshrinks and-

Oh god.

Is that her new costume? That is terrible.

I know Wanda calls Jan the Avengers’ fashion expert but she has a lot more misses than hits. And also more outfits than possibly any other superhero? Or near the top of the list at least.

I guess today is just a day for bad new outfits.

So Wasp unshrinks and commands Ant-Man’s ant swarms to leave the mansion. She didn’t do it earlier because her ant control collar isn’t as strong as Ant-Man’s helmet. It is bigger. And shinier.

And now its time for Wasp to Explain It All.

So here’s a bit of old news: Hank Pym is not the most emotionally stable individual out there.

And his constant parade of identities maybe was a warning sign?

And at home, more and more of his projects were ending in failure, causing Hank to lash out in rage and frustration and smash his shit. Maybe this is also somewhat of a red flag.

And Hank is the type that feels emasculated that he’s living off his wife’s inheritance. And would be salty as hell if Jan offered to pay for him to see a psychiatrist.

So she just went to go see a psychiatrist on his behalf without telling him.

I’m not sure the kind of helpfulness you can expect from second-hand psychiatry advice but telling her to reinforce his positive behavior and convince him to rejoin the Avengers seemed to work.

He was acting like the Hank she remember, especially at home. Wink.

... She politely implies their healthy sex life right at the Avengers.

Anyway, when Hank and Jan flew off to improve his their powers at the beginning of last issue, something strange happened.

Hank just clammed up and flew away from her.

Figuring that he had moodily relapsed, Jan went home and designed a new outfit to ‘keep his interest’ and-

Oh god that’s not a superhero outfit, that’s a bedroom activity outfit!

I’m not.... entirely sure why a sexy outfit needs an ant-controlling collar but I already know far more about Wasp and Hank’s sex life than I want to.

I guess it says something that lingerie and a superhero outfit could be easily confused for each other but its not anything that hasn’t been said before.

So.

Moving on.

When Jan went to go get Hank, she found his lab destroyed and him missing. Because Hank Pym.

It was finally too much to face alone so she flew to get help and just so happened to help them instead.

And Jan wonders whether its too late to help Hank.

NONSENSE, expresses the Avengers.

Iron Man decides what they need to do is strap him into the pain-o-tron, er, I mean the subliminal recall-inducer. Y’know, that device that makes people recall things by hurting them a lot?

They’ll restore Hank’s memories that way, since he seems to have blanked everything since the very first day of the Avengers, for some reason.

Meanwhile, Beast will drive Wasp home to pick up some things to help jog Hank’s memory.

Beast, the Other Hank, agrees in his usual flippant clownery way, but Cap and Iron Man both yell at him for his inane antics at a time like this.

He sheepishly apologizes to Jan. Later, as Beast drives Jan to her house, she tries to say that his joking around didn’t matter. But Beast interrupts her.

Beast: “Mrs. Pym, it’s... hard to be a Beast... sometimes.”

An admission that a lot of Beast’s foolery is sad clowning. Goofing to hide and distract from his own insecurities and troubles.

Maybe Cap and Iron Man should be more understanding, really. Anyway, Beast is now in a mood.

He stays in the car when Jan goes inside because he doesn’t want to “upset” the neighbors with his appearance. And he thinks to himself how lucky Other Other Hank (Pym) is that he has a wife like Jan, “a lot luckier than a Beast could ever be!”

Meanwhile, Jan is thinking some sad thoughts herself.

Apparently Hank called the new house Jan’s “palace” because Hank Pym. But Jan wanted it to be their palace. And she resolves that if she gets her Hank back, she’ll never let something as stupid as money get between them again.

I’m not sure how she’ll manage that. Is she going to stop paying for the house and all his lab equipment and basically completely financing him?

Oh. And then Jan sees someone off-panel and yells “No! Not... you!”

Is it more ants? Don’t touch that nonexistent dial!

Back at the mansion, they’ve turned the pain-o-tron up to intolerable levels to no effect.

I guess subjecting a man to an alarming amount of pain just won’t cure amnesia.

...

HAS THE SUBLIMINAL RECALL-INDUCER EVER WORKED?!

Did... did Tony just build a torture chair and then play it off as something else when Cap asked him what it was?

Anyway, since pain didn’t work, the Avengers decide maybe surrounding Hank Pym with his oldest and closest friends will.

WHY DIDN’T THEY TRY THAT FIRST??

What kind of perspective does someone bring into a situation where unbearable levels of pain is the first resort to help a friend?

Alas, however, Thor is out of reach. Quicksilver is dealing with his own shit what with Attilan having blown up. And Hawkeye?

We get a full page detailing what he’s up to, for some reason.

He and Two-Gun Kid are working at the Cheery-O’s Dude Ranch. Hawkeye is helping Two-Gun deal with culture clash through a shared interest in flirting with cowgirls.

I don’t know why this.

I just know that Hawkeye is real proud of himself, thinking “boy if the Avengers could only see us now!” because yeah, they’d be sooo impressed, Hawkeye.

So the Avengers stand around a dazed and confused Hank Pym waiting for any callbacks when suddenly Beast limps into the room muttering:

Beast: “guys... he got... Jan! he’s coming... oh-h-h!”

And then the ceiling explodes.

BECAUSE ULTRON.

He never uses the front door.

And he mocks the Avengers for being startled that he’s not dead. After all, haven’t Captain America, Wonder Man, and Vision come back from seeming death?

But he also explains how he’s back. Because I guess he wants the Avengers to applaud his forethought.

See, Ultron had Charm’d Person several pawns to recreate him on the off chance that he was destroyed by an actual toddler.

That’s just the kind of guy Ultron is. Always planning those contingencies.

Vision charges forward to stop him again and again and keep stopping him until stopping him stops failing.

But Ultron prepared a series of win buttons before launching his attack.

For example: he knows every detail of Vision’s construction so he created a weapon in his silly head antenna just for Vision.

And although Vision tries to diamond hard tank it, it is for naught. And he collapses.

And then Iron Man, Black Panther, and a hesitant Wonder Man charge forward on Cap’s AVENGERS -- ATTACK! command.

So Ultron uses EXPLODE and its super effective.

Iron Man is the first to recover his feet, protected by his armor. And he charges Ultron to... try to strangle him? I’m not really sure what Tony was planning here.

And it was dumb. Because Ultron built power siphons into his suit to drain Iron Man’s armor. And the powerless armored Avenger collapses into a heap at Ultron’s feet.

Oh and then he headshots Beast and Wonder Man with the encephalo-ray, knocking them out.

Ultron marvels that it took almost two entire seconds for Wonder Man to fall before the win button encephalo-ray. Truly unfortunate that the Grim Reaper failed to keep up his bargain because Ultron would so have loved an interesting study subject such as Wonder Man.

Okay but while Ultron was talking to himself, Scarlet Witch has been aligning her chakras or waving her fingers or whatever it is that she has to do to psyche herself up. Shaking off the oh god so many ant bites maybe.

And not without cause, she declares herself the most dangerous threat Ultron will ever face.

Red witch versuuuus robot. RED WITCH HATE TECHNOLOGY ROBOT HATE THE RED WITCH THEY WILL FIGHT ETERNALLY

Also, magic is super effective against Ultron.

And sure, Wanda’s powers have been vague lately. Her power up from training with Agatha Harkness seems mostly forgotten and she’s back to probability alteration. But she makes it work here.

Because that pink wavely energy just made all of Ultron’s circuits short out at the same time. What are the odds??

And then a wall falls on him.

And then the ceiling falls on him.

Ultron deduces that Scarlet Witch’s powers affect probabilities to create random, unnatural occurrences but its very nature as a random factor means that Ultron cannot anticipate or cope with it.

Eventually, Wanda’s power will destroy Ultron.

And then Cap ruins everything.

He prematurely decides Ultron is defeated and gets between Scarlet Witch and Ultron. Bam. The encephalo-ray strikes down Cap. And then Ultron uses Cap’s body as a shield. Bam. Scarlet Wanda is encephalo’d.

Dammit, Cap.

Now the Avengers are all down.

ktang.

Except the Ant-Man. He doesn’t know who this robot is but he feels just so compelled to fight him. Like... he’s got a real punchable face or something.

And as he bounces all around tiny size throwing tiny rocks at Ultron, Ultron uses his vacuum finger to suck him up.

Because of course Ultron has a vacuum finger. Imagine thinking that Ultron didn’t have a vacuum finger.

And... apparently Hank Pym is what Ultron was here for.

Very conscientious of saving the planet but more a dramatic little shit, Ultron turns the lights off as he leaves, also metaphorically symbolizing that darkness has fallen on the era of the Avengers.

And then he smashes a NEW hole through the ceiling and flies off into the night.

Later...

Jarvis comes back with groceries to find the lab is a mess, there’s holes in the floor and ceiling and dead Avengers everywhere. He’s a butler for godsake, not a maid.

Okay but seriously, he’s horrified.

But facetiously, this is like the fourth supervillain home invasion in a week. He has to be a little bit jaded to it by this point.

Anyway, next time: Bride of Ultron BECAUSE WHY NOT??

My real question is when do we get Son of the Return of Ultron’s Revenge?

#Avengers #Ant Man #Ultron #Scarlet Witch #the Vision #Captain America #Iron Man #the Wasp #Beast #Black Panther #Wonder Man #Essential Avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #Marvel two in one ie two stomps in one issue #here's a thing though #Wasp and Wanda got to be the MVPs this time #that almost never happens at the same time #ants is one of the great powers

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

Dear Ethan

by @princesspain10

Two years ago I had a stalker. The first time we met was December twenty-fifth. I went to a club, with some other lonely friends, because my girlfriend (now wife) was away for med school in Florida. None of us wanted to be alone I guess. I found these letters in the crawlspace last night. They’re all addressed to me and dated from way before Christmas. I’m taking these to the police, obviously. But first, I’m putting them up fucking everywhere. I am afraid to be alone with the contents of these letters. This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a story. People need to see this. I caught my stalker, and they were arrested on January sixteenth. When I look back on what was written on that date, I realize just how lucky I was. These letters made me grateful for the most traumatic moments of my life. I thought I was scared back then, just because some random person was watching me. I didn’t even know what I should have been afraid of. The contents of these letters are at times graphic.

Dear Ethan, 9/4/2015 I know handwritten letters are kind of silly and antiquated. I guess I was too nervous to get your phone number (embarrassing I know). I definitely remembered your name though. Ethan’s a Hebrew name I think, it means strong. Based on the smile you had while handing my card back over the counter, I knew that name was a really good fit for you. I guess I always sort of had a type. Blonde boys, with dark eyes and strong smiles… The kind of smile that I’d like to see first thing when I wake up someday. Not yours specifically, we just met and I’m not that psycho. It’s just where the type comes from I guess. I get side tracked easily. Ignore that. I think what I’m trying to say is you’re very attractive. And I hope I’m brave enough next time to talk to you more. Maybe eventually I’ll even have an address for this letter. I felt a connection with you. I’ve never found a man scanning my whole grain bread and bouncing his head to shitty grocery store disco quite so… Perfect. I’d really like to talk more.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan, 10/8/2015 My mom always told me I was overeager. She told me it was going to scare people away. I followed you home from work. It was like I wasn’t controlling my body. It was like an atheist finding God. It felt like purpose… The kind of purpose most people don’t feel after childhood. Following you home, I felt like I knew what I was doing with my life again. I can be distracted, but then I’ll see someone with your hair, or eyes, and suddenly you’re everywhere. You fill mind until I literally can’t even anything or anyone else. I’ve been with guys before, and I have never felt like this. It’s like I’ve got a new need that only feels satiated when I’m around you. It wasn’t as crazy as it sounds though, I swear. I didn’t look in any windows, I didn’t read your mail or anything weird… I knew that I was invading your privacy and I knew that wasn’t cool. I also know that I’ve never loved anyone before you. I’m hesitant to even use that word, but… I feel it. When we make eye contact, it’s like a shock is restarting my heart. How could this be anything but love? It took a lot of work to override the part of me that forced me here. So much work, that I felt physically sore afterwords. I ran a warm bath, and I imagined what our future together could be. I’d make you dinner, and coffee in the mornings. I’d stay home and raise the kids. I’ve always wanted two, but I’m okay with whatever you want. I’m okay with anything.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan 10/28/2015 Based on when your bedroom light turned on this morning, you slept through your alarm. You were so rushed getting to work that you left your door ajar. I just went to close it. I swear, I didn’t plan on coming inside. But when I was at your door, I noticed that you left your kitchen light on too. I had to turn it off. It was more of a compulsion than a choice. I couldn’t stop myself. Your house is like I’d imagined it would be. It’s a nice relaxing space, I always wanted my dorm room to feel like this. I’m writing from your desk, I had to make room for paper amidst all the soda cans. According to the schedule taped to the fridge, you’re getting off work in twenty minutes. It’s like.. I’m happy about what I’ve done. I know it’s super weird but just being here is so intimate. This feeling confirms it; this connection is bigger than me or you. It feels like something omnipotent. I was a psychology major, before I dropped out. I understand infatuation. I know how the surge of oxytocin can be powerfully addictive, and how the abrupt shifts in dopamine and serotonin levels could potentially trigger pre existing mental conditions. But this isn’t infatuation, I would be able to feel the difference. I’m a psychology major because I have a perfect mind. My mom was a psychiatrist, and based on what I saw with my brothers depression and sisters mild anxiety, she wouldn’t hesitate to diagnose and drug anyone. My childhood became a competition, who in my family will go the longest without a diagnosis. I fucking won Ethan. Sorry, I have to go back out to the car, it’s five so you’re probably gonna get home soon. I’ll finish this letter out here. I really like being on your street. Watching your house from my car is a little different, now that I’ve been physically inside. But it still eases the emptiness. Being outside of your house is better than being alone. You just pulled into your driveway. Watching you walk from your car to the front door was easily the highlight of my day. I think I’m going to stay out here for a while longer. Just until I see the lights in your bedroom go out. I really like to make sure you get to sleep well.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan, 11/12/2015 I’m writing this by the light of your TV. It might not be the longest letter that I write to you. I didn’t really intend to stay the night here. I was in your bedroom, looking through some of your old sketchbooks, and you showed up. I guess I should know better than to stay until just before you get off work, but I honestly didn’t expect you to get off this early. I was watching you, from your bedroom. The path to the only exit would cross your immediate line of sight at any point while you’re anywhere but your room. I was trapped, but I was happy. It was like fate trapped me in your bedroom. You sang along to your cute indie music while you cooked yourself dinner. I couldn’t tell whether the music itself or you singing along that fit your personality more perfectly. I couldn’t help but think that I could’ve made you dinner. One day I’ll get to. Maybe one day we’ll even be so deeply in love you’ll spend all day looking forward to eating a meal with me. As I write this, you’re asleep above me. Your slow steady breathing is so relaxing. It feels like it’s my heartbeat, but in your chest. But you were tossing and turning a lot. I wished I could crawl out and comfort you… Even though I couldn’t, I felt so close to you. It was almost erotic. I’m not sleeping tonight. I don’t need to. Listening to your breath is all I’ll ever need.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan, 11/28/2015 I’ve been staying here lately. I read in your bed while you work, I’ve been wearing your clothes too. They smell like you. It’s the only way I can feel close to you while you’re working all day. Did you know there’s an access to your crawlspace from your bedroom closet? It’s not bad down there. A little closed in, but it’s warm and nice and out of the wind. I think I’m going to stay down there, instead of under your bed. As much as I want to stay close to you, it’s too risky. And I’ll do whatever it takes to stay close to you. I can hear where you are in the house from down there. You’re about to leave for work as I write this. I’m about to go watch you finish getting ready. You’re so cute when you make faces at yourself in the bathroom mirror because you think nobody’s watching.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan, 12/14/2015 I’ve been spending a lot of time in your crawlspace, not getting out to see you as much as I used to. As much as I enjoy watching you, it fills me with this… anxiety. What if you notice me? What if you don’t understand what I’m doing here and call the cops? I’m not ready for that. And for now, the sound of your footsteps is enough for me. I would do anything to stay close to you Ethan, even if that means giving you space. It’s sort of hard to get food. I normally try to do it while you’re sleeping, so I could get just a couple of seconds of seeing you. Most of the time I can’t tell if I’m empty because of the hunger or because of the loneliness. I do like to leave some mornings though. You’re a morning person I think. You’ll spend the whole morning getting ready to the rhythm of your music. You literally start your day by dancing. I’m definitely okay with this. Living below you isn’t bad at all actually. I can live through the smell of piss and shit in the crawlspace, and the claustrophobia and the hunger. I can stomach anything for you. I never want to leave. I never want to leave. I never want to leave. I heard you talking to your friends on the phone about going to a club for Christmas. I thought it was a little sad that you don’t have anyone you’d like to be with on Christmas. Maybe one day I’ll be able to spend Christmas with you. No reason to go to a club to distract from the loneliness.

Your secret admirer

Dear Ethan, 12/26/2015 I spoke to you. During the whole exchange I was feeling emotions that I’m not going to disclose for sensitivities sake. Your eyes on mine… You smiling at words I said. You even touched my shoulder at one point. It was so intimate. I have never felt such a deep connection with a person in my life. You’d had a few drinks, but that just made it better. You were so happy. “Excuse me,” I said. Or at least, I think I said. My heart was pounding too hard to hear my own voice. “I love your shirt.” It was just some random reference from a TV show he likes, I only know because I wore that specific shirt for a week. “Thanks! People never recognize it.” The words left your mouth and I felt the click. The connection that I’d been waiting months for. It was worth every second of anticipation. It had been a long time since I’d seen you last. I left your house to shower, to get ready to meet you in person. I remember thinking at the time that leaving before we did this would make it more special. Like the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding. “Just so you know I’m like… I’m not looking for a hookup or anything.” You said hesitantly. I remember that the club wasn’t very full, who the fuck wants to go dancing on Christmas? “Me either, I just liked your shirt dude. You seem cool.” I said. Plus, technically I wasn’t lying; I’m not looking for a hookup. I want much much more than that from you. “Yeah umm… You seem cool too.” You said, before adding those magical words. “Wanna dance?” We were together for a full song. You were getting more and more drunk… Eventually you left, your friends got there, but you said it was nice to meet me. You told me I was cool. And when you left, you touched my shoulder. You’re asleep in your bed now, and I’m sitting on the floor of your slightly ajar closet. I’m getting good at writing in moderate darkness, between the crawlspace and the closet. When I touch that spot on my shoulder, I feel the memory of tonight in my whole body. You touching me. Talking to me. Smiling at me. I am never going to forget tonight. I’m just going to watch you sleep tonight I think. You drank a lot, I could probably crawl into your bed without you noticing. One day I’ll spend every night by your side. I look forward to that.

Your secret admirer

Ethan, 1/1/2015 I should’ve known you were too good to be true. I should have fucking known. You’re a whore. That’s what you are. More heathenous than the whore of Babylon. You should be stoned. Crucified. Hurt. ‘Not looking for a hookup’, you told me. You’re a liar too I guess. Maybe you just weren’t looking for affection, or love, or connection. You were just looking for a bitch with a ready ass, weren’t you? How could you feel like that? How could you do the things you did with her when I was here already? I have been ready to be yours, mind body and soul, for months. How the fuck could you choose someone like her over me? I watched the whole time. The whole 'wild night’. You fucking that disgusting whore of a woman. The noises you made… The noises you made her make. Even now the memory makes me gag. Even now, with you at work, I can still hear the animalistic grunting. It’s echoing through my memories and filling the whole fucking house. I’ve thrown up twice. I have been waiting so long to be with you. To hold you. To make you feel the things that you looked for in an ugly superfluous slut. I have been in your house day and night and not once have I seen that woman. Not looking for a hookup… Funny. I bet you found her on a street corner. It terrified me. The anger that I felt while watching you two fuck. It took all of my willpower to not leave that closet. To not shatter the vase on your dresser and imbed every shard of glass into your lovers body while you watch. It’s still in front of me. Your naked bodies. The pain I could have inflicted. Revenge I could have gotten. The relief. At least this thought is… Cathartic. While I was waiting for my hands to stop shaking for long enough to write this, I just closed my eyes and imagined. I have our bedroom memorized. I could’ve splattered her brains all over both of your naked bodies with the baseball bat you keep under your bed. I could have shattered the bulb of your bedside lamp on her exposed chest.

While I write this letter, the gashes I could have left are more prominent than the words on this paper. But now she’s gone and I can’t hurt her at all. She’s probably onto her next unprotected hookup. I hope she gave you syphilis. This morning, I would have done anything for you Ethan. But I’m honestly not sure if I can just… be okay with this. My entire body is still trembling. Could I really keep living like this? Psychology says that in the brain, love and hate are very closely connected. I loved you Ethan. I don’t anymore.

Ethan, 1/6/2015 I tried to get over it, but it feels different now. I don’t feel anything but stabbing anger. When I’m watching you sleep I feel like I’m suffocating. You sleeping alone used to be relaxing, because maybe one day I could sleep beside you. But now, the space beside you… it’s not a neutral space anymore, it’s a negative one. Watching you get ready I feel like I’m getting stabbed in the belly over and over and over… Your little quirks, singing in the shower, making faces at yourself in the bathroom, it feels like you’re mocking me. Watching you drink your coffee, and look out your favorite window to watch the sunrise used to be my favorite part of the day. But this time, there was a sickly little satisfied smirk on your face. The smirk, she left there when she visited again a second time. Seeing that smirk felt like screws being twisted into my fingertips. I want you to feel this pain. I want you to suffocate, and be stabbed, and feel each nail pop off one by one when the screw burrows in a little too far. I want you to know what it feels like to bleed.

Ethan, 1/16/2015 I keep having dreams about it. First, I break your ankles, so you can’t run. Once I even drove nails through your kneecaps. You try to scream of course, and this is a very suburban area, so in these dreams it’s only logical that I sew your mouth closed too. I’m good at sewing, you would’ve known if you’d ever bothered to get to know me. Next I’ll pull off your fingernails, one by one, then when you’re clearly in excruciating pain I’ll start taking whole fingers. But I always stop once you pass out, I wouldn’t want you to miss anything. The longer it is since I saw you with her, the longer I drag it out. Right now it takes about a week. I make sure you drink a healthy amount of water, but I don’t feed you. Watching you wither away is relaxing. Of course, in my fantasy I don’t let you starve entirely. That death is too inky, and numb. You deserve something with a little bit more passion. I always wait until you stop struggling entirely, then I slide one of your kitchen knives through two off your ribs, piercing your lungs. You drown in your own blood. I actually left your house today, for the first time since Christmas. I was only out to get some supplies. A few people tried to give me money in the street, like I’m some filthy begger. My old dealer was worried. “We haven’t seen you in months, are you okay? You look sick.” I ignored him and asked if he had any rohypnol, which made him even more worried. Of course because I had money, he just sold me what I asked for and let me leave. No one ever really cares, do they? I’m waiting for you to get home now. I opened one of the capsules and emptied the powder into the half empty Mountain Dew can you left in the fridge. Tonight is the night. Once you’re asleep I’m going to take you to the crawlspace, so you’ll have to live how I’ve lived for months. Then? Once you’re awake? I am going to live the fucking dream Ethan. I’m finally going to be close to you.

#author: princesspain10 #creepy #horror story #submission #thanks for submitting!

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