The Doctor Will See You Now

Peter Dieterle. Psychoanalyst. We'll get through this together.

[down-in-the-rabbit-hole]

[celestejacobs]

A Breath of Fresh Air || celeste & peter

[celestejacobs]

Was he deaf or just slow? Apparently this was a difficult concept for her doctor to understand. She’s try a few more times to get it through his head, but she didn’t much enjoy talking to planks of wood. 

"Yes." She dragged the word out, allowing his slow mind to stay caught up with her, "I was in the library, reading, Ethan came over, I got upset, he tried to leave. No book, no library, no fight. Simple."

She jumped back up to grab the bars, tightening her grip with each hand before swinging across a few bars again. Her voice was strained as she spoke, her muscles working intensely on the main task at hand.

"I love the monkey bars, bars and cars, trucks and ducks, ducks and… fucks." She dropped down again, laughing at her own words. "Boy could I use a good fuck right about now." Nothing in Celeste’s mind was telling her to stop talking, but the mania coursing through her kept her going, "I used to get laid all the time when I was out of here," she chuckled at her thought before speaking it aloud, "how do you think I got stuck with two kids?" that I never wanted, she added in her mind, but was distracted by the teeter-totter before she could say it.

[peter-dieterle]

Peter had always known Celeste was a difficult patient, but usually, he was able to control her. Now, however, it seemed she couldn't be reasoned with. The redhead was spewing whatever words came to mind, unabashed in what she was saying. She blamed Peter for her own lack of self-control and was unashamedly telling him how often she had sex. While Peter didn't mind promiscuous women, he didn't want to hear about it. It made him feel worse about his own current situation.

It'd been about two years since Peter had last had sex. It was with a fifty-seven-year-old woman who had seduced him at a bar. She said she was experienced--that she'd show him a good time. He went to her place and despite Peter's best efforts, he couldn't keep up with her. Mid-copulation, she rolled off of him and told him to stop crying--that he was embarrassing the both of them. She showed him the door and Peter returned home, cheeks flushed and his stomach sick.

"That's great, Celeste," he said with a sigh. "I still don't understand what happened between you two that made you so angry. Did he say anything in particular? Or were you just being--" unreasonable. He stopped himself from saying the last word, knowing he'd regret it if he did. It wouldn't do well to upset her; Peter didn't want to be her next victim.

[winter-devito-deactivated201405]

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret | Peter and Winter

Winter was getting better…Kind of. She hasn’t set fires to anything in a while and there was no alcohol she could get her hands on, though Winter would have been lying if she said that she hadn’t had a few vivid dreams about these things. There were also days where she craved the sharp taste of alcohol or the hot flames of fire burning down a tree or better, a car. It’d be gorgeous. The fires dancing on the lighter fluid in a line towards the vehicle, an explosion guaranteed to arrive soon…Those were the best kinds of fires. 

A lot had happened since her last visit to her doctor. For instance, she met Connell and developed a big liking for him, managed to somehow get a sociopath to give her a lighter which she gave up for her own good, and she also learned four of the seven notes on the piano. Four notes which did nothing big for her. But who knew, maybe she’d progress…Unlikely, she was spending too much time with the guard. 

Walking to her doctor’s room, Winter knocked twice before letting herself in and relaxing on the couch. “‘ey, Doc,” Winter said, smiling over at him. “No bad reports about me lately, huh? Yeah, I’ve been on a good streak. Cool, huh? Anyway, how’s your week been? Fun break with the kids? Maybe a little date with the Missus?”

[peter-dieterle]

Peter was dreading this session. He didn't mind Winter, but he loathed confrontation. The administration and head of security had alerted him to an incident that needed to be addressed. He had the option to let the administration deal with it or he could sort it out himself. Though he was much too tired to take on the task, he didn't see any other choice; Winter was his patient, after all. He'd much rather he addressed the issue rather than some higher-up flubbing it up completely.

He could feel sweat pooling under his collar and he hated himself for it. He shouldn't be so nervous. He wasn't the one in trouble, after all. As much as Peter tried to tell himself this, however, his heart wouldn't stop drumming loudly in his ears. This was going to be a nuisance in their session, but he supposed he'd just have to push through it.

"Hello, Winter," he said. Peter thought about addressing the fact that he had no kids and no "missus" to speak of, but it'd only end up putting him in a dark place that would be hard to pull himself out of. No, no. He wouldn't allow himself to think about that. Not here--not with her.

"We need to talk." He knew how scary the words were, but he didn't know any other way to phrase it. Perhaps it was better to scare the girl anyway; he needed her to know the seriousness of the situation. "What is your relationship with Guard Browne?" he asked, his voice grave.

[peter-dieterle]

Walking on a Dream || Peter and Reive

[reive-hall-deactivated20170804]

In truth, Reive had no wishes for Stonebridge to feel like home. She did not want to have been there for so long that it felt like home; the word home being a word she related to a place where you belonged, and an asylum was not a place she wanted to belong in. Nevertheless, the brunette nodded. The guard’s presence always made her feel safer, glad that the security was so valued there to avoid any other unfortunate incident.

Her eyes stared out into space for a few seconds as her thoughts brushed against the vivid memories of her sister. “We were always together,” she concluded, absent-mindedly. “But then after high school it was time for college, and we had to go our separate ways.” There Reive had avoided the first question, because she was not fairing well at all without her. It was like a part of her was missing, and the closest equivalent she could find to the loss she was experience would be for a person to be away from their spouse, but she firmly believed her and River’s bond was stronger. They had been by each other’s side ever since their birth after all.

"Are we allowed phone calls?" she asked of Peter with hope and expectation gleaming in her eyes, now having lost focus of what they were meant to talk about – being herself – and moved on to the seemingly never-ending subject of her twin River. "If I could maybe call her, I would feel much better if I got to speak with her for a while."

[peter-dieterle]

Peter envied Reive's connection with her sister. He wished he had the same relationship with his brother, Thomas, but that ship sailed long ago. It was primarily Peter's fault; he had resented his younger brother for things beyond his control. Thomas was a sickly child whose deteriorating health racked up a multitude of medical bills. His mother slaved over two jobs, working nearly eighteen hours a day in order to keep a roof over their heads and pay for the medication Thomas needed.

Peter blamed his brother for his mother never being around. He blamed him for all those nights they were forced to sleep on their neighbor's floors when his mother couldn't afford to pay the rent. He blamed him for the hunger that perpetually tore away at their stomachs. Though he loved his brother and often huddled with him for warmth when they were children, that resentment put a wedge between them that could never be bridged. When Peter was away at college, the two drifted even farther apart. His brother never intended to seek higher education, but continued to rely on their mother for shelter, food, and protection.

His brother had become an addict--a pill-popping leech that stole from their mother and lived off of her wages. Peter sent a check to his mother once a month, but he was sure his brother intercepted it more than a few times. Now, the mere thought of Thomas made Peter sick with anger and grief.

"It must have been tough separating from her. How did you feel when it was time to go your own ways? Were you ready for this change?" he asked. "And yes, a phone call can most certainly be arranged." He knew this would raise this girl's spirits considerably; it might even help relieve her of some of the stress that contributed to her restlessness.

[melloncolliesinfinitemixtape]

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Duran Duran / Hungry like The Wolf

straddle the line in discord and rhyme, i’m on the hunt i’m after you

[klicious]

[peter-dieterle]

The Great Indoors || Peter and Lourdes

Exercise was supposed to improve Peter's deteriorating mood, so he'd made it a habit to get up at the crack of dawn to hit the gym at the manor. Stonebridge was equipped with some of the best machines on the market. Peter didn't know how to work most of them, sure, but he did know how to work the treadmill and that was all that mattered.

That morning, he ran a good half a mile before he was exhausted. The doctor was out of shape--too full of pepperoni pizza hot pockets to be considered healthy. He tried to work the other machines, but his body was too weak from spending all those nights lounging on the sofa watching movies like Bridget Jones' Diary and While You Were Sleeping. They were notable chick flicks, but Peter was a romantic and these made his heart soar. Perhaps these were also responsible for his unrealistic romantic expectations. One didn't simply fall in love with a comatose stranger's family like Sandra Bullock's character had in the movie. It was simply unheard of.

He went to the gym's facilities and began to wash up, standing in the shower for a good forty minutes as the warm water washed over his sore body. It was nice being at the manor when it was still quiet. He wished it was like this more often. 

Clothes slung over his shoulder, Peter exited the shower and made a quick break for the bathroom stall. He never used the urinals at the manor. The patients didn't value privacy quite as much as he did, and their watchful gaze made him too nervous to urinate. He wasn't shy about his size, but just knowing someone was watching him made his insides clench.

After he finished his business, he leaned over the toilet to flush and watched in horror as his clothes fell into the bowl.

No. 

Oh no. Peter nearly reached in and fished them out, but he thought better of it. He had a spare change of clothes back in his office, but that was a floor up. Should he wear his dirty, soaked clothes or should he wrap himself in a towel and chance it? 

Peter stood in the stall for a good fifteen minutes, staring at the clothes floating inside the toilet. He'd just showered and he wouldn't have another chance to shower until noon. He'd just have to chance it. 

Wrapping himself in a towel, he hurried past the machines and dashed towards the door. He was about to open it, but someone had pulled on it from the other side. It was then that he came face-to-face with Dr. Deleon.

Oh no. Not her.

[skarsgardaddict]

[rockbasically]

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The Beach Boys - Kokomo

Album: Cocktail (1988)

[shibbybradley]

Visit Original Link

Hall & Oates - “You Make My Dreams”

[skarsgardaddict]

[peter-dieterle]

Walking on a Dream || Peter and Reive

[reive-hall-deactivated20170804]

"Dieterle…" If that name was difficult for a person under normal circumstances to remember then the odds of Reive remembering it were incredibly slim. She would rather go with Peter than having to ask for his name each time she left a session as well as each time she came to sit down in his chair to initiate one. Injury or not, then even she would think she was more than a bit behind in the mental-department. “I’ll call you Peter, if you don’t mind.”

Her hands were busy as she sat there, fingers lacing together, unlacing, and generally moving about. It was hard to sit still when you were nervous, but the doctors had also given Reive some tips on how to help her focus, fidgeting being one of them. Since the accident the brunette found herself in ever so frustrating situations where her mind wandered off without her, easily breaking concentration as well as taking long to understand things. It had her feel incredibly dumb, so Reive was close to manic about heeding their advice in order to not come off as someone stupid or uninterested. Surely it said something in her files about it, but apart from those with access to the files, people didn’t know, and could easily discard it as lacking of interest or stupidity.

"I haven’t been sleeping very well," she admitted, and her gaze dropped to her hands that lay on her lap, her thumb brushing over the second knuckle of her index finger. In order to not make it seem like a problem – Reive didn’t see it as such – she decided to add an explanation, as well as ensuring the doctor that it would eventually get better, so there was no need to fuss over that. "It’s probably because it’s a new place, and all. I don’t know if there is anything to report, though. You’ll have to ask my room mate."

[peter-dieterle]

"That's normal," he said. "A lot of patients find it difficult to adjust to life at Stonebridge at first. It's a big change. I'm sure it doesn't feel like home now, but I hope it will soon." He wasn't entirely sure if that was true. Some of the patients had been here for years, but they still looked as uncomfortable and scared as if they'd just arrived yesterday. Most acclimated to the lifestyle here, though, and he could only hope Reive would, too.

"There are precautions taken for those who sleepwalk, so take comfort knowing that you'll be safe. We have guards patrolling the hallways at night and if they see you walking about, they'll stop you and send you back to your room." He was sure this was a comforting thought; it had to be. 

Peter scraped his mind for any other information he could remember about her. There was something particularly interesting about her, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. After a moment's pause, it hit him. Reive had a twin sister. Her papers had said she might have difficulty functioning without her. That must have been an added stress for the poor girl.

"How are you doing without your sister?" he asked. "Are you used to being away from her?"

[peter-dieterle]

The Bare Minimum || Peter and Beth

[patient-beth-deactivated2014090]

[Beth walked into the office after knocking, biting her lip as she dragged her suitcase into the room with her. The jingle-jangle of the collar on her stuffed toy seemed to be the only noise in the room as she entered, making her nervous as all get out. Her eyes met the office first, noting the cleanliness and orderly fashion of it. Yes…it was just like any other office. It had pictures of different people, decorations from other countries, and it had that smell.

The usual coffee and air freshener smell; it was like nothing had ever changed. The house itself, however, was beautiful. That was something she was not entirely expecting.

Finally, her eyes met the doctor, and she was taken aback. He looked so damn young. Too young to be here, anyway. Was he good with his practice? Or was this merely a substitute? No way, this couldn’t be. Substitutes were a death sentence in the psychological world. You can never trust one person like you trust another.]

"Good morning, sir." 

[Beth replied, sitting in the chair and wincing as it whined under her weight.]

"Sorry if I am late…I had a bit of trouble finding your office."

[peter-dieterle]

[Peter is usually good at keeping track of his patients--even the new ones. Today, however, he feels off. Though the other doctors often complain that they do not get enough sleep, Peter finds that he has been getting too much. It's hard to want to get out of bed in the morning. His doctor told him to start hitting the gym early, but he's finding it difficult to peel himself from the comfort of his bed. It's safer in his room--easier. The world outside is too big, too dark, too dreary.

He knows as soon as he swings his legs over the bed and presses his feet to the floor, he has to begin his day. And when the day begins, he has to face the cruel reality of his life. He is alone, his life is aimless, and he has nothing good to look forward to. His sessions with his patients all bleed together and he knows his work is faltering.

He should remember Beth's file, but he can't--not really. Even though he'd reviewed it a good thirty minutes before their session, he can't recall a thing about her other than her general diagnosis. He'll push through this anyway. He'll make this work.]

That's fine. You're only a few minutes late and this is our first session together. Just don't make it a habit.

[He flips through his ledger to see if he's made any notes about her file, but he can't find any. He presses on.]

It's nice to meet you, Beth. I'm Dr. Dieterle, but you can call me Dr. D or Peter if you'd like. Just go with whatever makes you feel most comfortable. How are you enjoying life at the manor so far? You adjusting alright?

[celestejacobs]

A Breath of Fresh Air || celeste & peter

[celestejacobs]

Celeste decided she would ignore her doctor for a bit, trying to just enjoy her time on the swing. Normally her weight would be rocking the set a bit, Celeste being an adult and not a child, but due to her most recent manic episode - one which she was still waiting for it to end - she was down about thirty pounds, weighing just under 100 pounds, fairly underweight for her 5’3” frame. She didn’t mind, though, this mean she could swing higher on the swing without breaking it.

What Celeste really wanted was for everyone to just shut up about Ethan. She was so over it at this point, ready to move on. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she had assaulted anyone, just the first time she’d done it in the manor. So far. Shouldn’t they all understand that it just comes with the territory?

Enough time had passed, Celeste determined, and once she was beginning to feel tired of the swings, she dragged her feet on the ground, slowing her momentum until she was almost stopped beside her doctor.

“It’s your fault because you suggested that book.” Celeste stated the obvious, not understanding why Peter was having such a hard time comprehending. Perhaps it was because he believed he was never wrong and never at fault. Celeste hated people like that. She’d give him a second chance, though. “If you hadn’t suggested the book I would not have been in the library.” She waited to see if she saw a look of understanding cross his face but quickly got bored and stood, crossing to the monkey bars.

“I’ve never been able to do these before,” Celeste climbed up the short ladder and grabbed the bars with her hands. She stepped off the ladder and let herself hang and, determined to get across at least a few, reached for the next bar. She had gotten to the forth bar when her arms gave out. She jumped down, brushing her hands on her pants. At least she had a goal now, something to work toward. Just get across.

[peter-dieterle]

If Peter could discreetly roll his eyes into the back of his fucking skull, he would do so. His fault? The woman was delirious--so quick to push the blame on others than own up to her own actions. This was why her mother wanted to take her child from her: because Celeste was much too juvenile to handle responsibility. He could imagine various scenarios in which things could go awry for her poor child.

"It was your fault I left Sophie in the car. You told me to relax more, so I went to the mall and forgot about her."

"It was your fault I forgot to pick Sophie up from school. You told me to cook more, so I went to the grocery store instead."

It must have been frustrating to be Celeste's mother, but even more, it must have been hellish to be her children. While he sympathized with Celeste because of her harrowing past and her inability to manage her bipolar disorder, he could not help but be angry with her because of her attempt to pin the blame on him--for suggesting her to check out a book of all things.

Peter would undoubtedly need to put her into ISO for her wrongdoings and though he'd never admit it, it would bring him great pleasure to see her punished. He wouldn't tell her now, though--not without a guard nearby to detain her. He wouldn't want her kicking and beating him up as she had Ethan. Peter was far too frail to bear a beating.

Instead, he followed her to the monkeybars, mirroring the same silence she'd offered him earlier. After a considerable pause, he decided to speak up--see if he could reason with an unreasonable woman.

"So, I asked you to check out the self-help book and you're saying that that is what started the fight between you and Ethan?"

[peter-dieterle]

Walking on a Dream || Peter and Reive

[reive-hall-deactivated20170804]

Catching some sleep had proven to be difficult for Reive. It was expected, especially since this was a new place, a complete change of scenery where she, in truth, did not feel that safe. Hopefully it would pass, but right now it meant the brunette had a tendency to wake up fairly early, and so she had been up and about for a while when meaning to go see her therapist. This would be the first time the two talked, and she didn’t know what to expect of it. The word therapy usually rang with a darker tone, but it was to aid her recovery, which could not progress on its own. Besides, therapists were not the ones she should be worrying about.

After getting help with the directions, she found her way to the man’s office, peeking inside to make sure it was the right room. That he addressed her proved it to be correct, and the girl gave a nervous tug of the corners of her mouth. “I’m feeling fine, thank you,” Reive replied before doing as requested, closing the door behind to then amble over with small steps towards the chair. She sat down, instantly leaning forward a bit, her posture sloped instead of straightened up mostly because of Reive being a bit tired.

"It’s nice to meet you. Properly, I mean." Hazel orbs wandered around in the office, taking in the sight before her to process the images in her mind. A place such as one’s office was meant to say something about the person, since you got the opportunity to personalise it with your own style, as well as decorations. She wondered what Peter’s office said about him.

[peter-dieterle]

"It's wonderful to meet you as well, Reive," Peter said, scribbling her name at the top of his ledger. His handwriting was getting progressively worse as the days went by. He supposed it could be attributed to his deteriorating mood, but he wasn't sure. Maybe he was just getting old and he was getting more feeble. Maybe he couldn't hold the pen correctly anymore--as a young man did. No, no. he shouldn't think of these things right now. He was with a patient.

He might as well get the usual introductions out of the way. It felt almost scripted now, but why fix what wasn't broken? "I'm Dr. Dieterle, but if you're more comfortable with calling me 'Peter,' by all means, please do so. Some people have trouble remembering my last name, so Dr. D will suffice as well." He actually hated when people called him Dr. D. It sounded like a ridiculous disc jockey name and he couldn't help but cringe when people shouted it across the room at him.

Peter had reviewed her file half an hour before their session was set to begin, but he couldn't, for the life of him, remember anything about her. It might have to do with the fact that his attention was elsewhere as he read over the notes on her. He had to flip through them quickly as he sat before her to refresh his memory, his eyes nearly immediately drawn to the mention of sleepwalking.

"How have you been sleeping here at the manor? Anything to report?"

[letsnikolposts]

[celestejacobs]

A Breath of Fresh Air || celeste & peter

[celestejacobs]

She could almost see the events happening all over again in her mind; suddenly Ethan was standing in front of her, all she had wanted to do was read the stupid book that Peter had given her. That’s the whole reason she was in the library.

"Really, this is all your fault, you know." Assuming that he could hear her words inside her head, she continued on to answer his question, "The little fucker had the audacity to walk away while I was talking to him. The nerve of some people!”

Peter gestured toward the playground and Celeste’s eyes immediately fell upon the swings. When she was a little girl, she had a swing set in the small background of their New York Apartment building and she had spent hours of every day swinging back and forth, back and forth. Higher and higher until the real world was so far below her she could barely hear her troubles anymore. For some reason, she’d never even noticed the playground before. Excitement filled her and she was at the swings almost instantly.

"I like to go high enough that I almost feel like I’m going to fall backwards, right back into the earth." She exclaimed, pumping her feet the way she had learned to when she was young.

[peter-dieterle]

His fault? What had he done to cause a rift between two of his patients? He'd never mentioned one to the other in a session. Peter hadn't even known that they were acquainted. The doctor tried to scour his brain for any potential scenarios in which he could cause a fight, but he came up with nothing. His fault? How?

Peter followed her to the playground and watched her hop onto the swings, her legs kicking to gather momentum. It was strange how Celeste had managed to retain so many childlike qualities despite her motherhood. He wondered what she was like around her child. Different at all? More maternal? From what he'd gathered from his sessions with her, he didn't think so, but he really hoped that she was.

"I'm sorry that you think this is my fault. May I ask what I did to inspire this fight between the two of you?" he asked. Peter tried his best to be tactful around Celeste; he knew she was a firecracker and he didn't want to say anything that would set her off. There wasn't a guard around from what he could see, and though he had a height advantage, he believed Celeste could damage him considerably if she was mad enough.