We've all done things you might regret.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

might revamp this blog as multimuse sometime in the future, we’ll just have to see. Everything in my life will be determined by the end of february -_-

[murder-husbands-big-bang]

Title: The Human Machine

Author: Ivnwrites

Artist: Jainas

Rating: M

Warnings:

Tags:  Sci-fi AU, Cyberpunk AU (sort of), surgery, mild body horror, Will has nightmares, Hannibal lies about everything, PTSD, hurt/comfort, heavy angst

Posting date: November 8

Summary: In a future where most people are fitted with noninvasive brain implants tailored to their job, Hannibal quickly grew frustrated with the almost stagnated pace of development and decided to start his own experiments. Building on hardware already in an individual’s head was easy in theory, but in practice it was proving more complicated than he thought. Six years ago, Will became the latest victim of the Ripper, waking up in the hospital with his head cut open again and had to relearn how to control his own brain. He was allowed to join the investigation four years later on the condition that he meet with a psychiatrist. It had helped him deal with the psychological trauma from his abduction, but it wasn’t helping the glitches and malfunctions that were starting to become worryingly frequent.

Preview: Hannibal watched as the clock at the corner of his screen flickered past midnight and looked up at the dark sky, his fingertips hovering over the keys as he considered his words. He’d periodically contacted Will throughout the years, sending direct messages to him in the middle of the night, knowing they would be relayed no matter what state of consciousness he was in.  

[Six years, Will. Well done.]

Miles away, Will’s eyes snapped open, his - for once peaceful - sleep completely shattered as he lurched violently awake. The words didn’t show up in the text his implants usually displayed when he received outside messages, plain font that adapted to be readable no matter what was behind the words. It was less like reading text, and much more akin to having someone suddenly try to start a conversation after sneaking up behind him. Half the time he could feel the connection being made with the same sensation of his ears popping in an airplane, but the other half, he was either asleep or distracted, and the words came as an unwelcome surprise.

“As you can tell, I’m hardly as thrilled by the anniversary as you are.”

He rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh, padding over to the window to rest his forehead against the cool glass. He looked out over the field surrounding his home as he settled onto the wide window sill, knees held to his chest. “Where are you?” He asked out loud, knowing that he would be heard.

[I assume you already know I won’t answer that question.]

Will scoffed. “No, of course not.” If their previous conversations were anything to go on, his attacker was practically a contortionist when it came to twisting his way out of Will’s questions. The cryptic hints peppered throughout their frequent conversations had resulted in one of the investigators nicknaming Will’s attacker ‘The Ripper’ after the original’s habit of taunting Whitechapel police. So far, the only concrete facts Will had been able to pry loose over the years were that the Ripper was a man, he lived in the city, and he had some sort of connection into the FBI, regularly commenting on the cases Will was given. “You said yourself though, it’s been six years. That’s longer than any of your other victims. Surviving that long surely that entitles me to one honest, straightforward answer.”

[By whose standards?]

“Mine. It is my brain, after all.”

Ridiculous as it was, Hannibal couldn’t fault his reasoning. [Very well then.]

“How do you chose your victims? There’s no real pattern with regard to age or sex or occupation, and you and I have already discussed how all the previous theories were wrong, so I want to know why you chose us.”

[ivnwrites]

Keep an eye out, guys! I’ve been working on this fic for a while, and I must admit to being proud of it. @jainas-art‘s work absolutely blew me away when I first saw it, and I can’t want for you all to see it.

Also a big shoutout to @alexrousseau and @unstcbleempathy for beta-ing.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

inadxquacy

Smirking Laura finished the fruit salad and began to clean the small mess they made. She was starting to feel exhausted so she was ready to leave. “I was planning on going before lunch. I’ll probably pick you up around eleven am, okay?” Laura stroked his hair gently, slightly bowing lower to be on his level. “I promise there won’t any snakes around.” Unless he meant snakes as in the type of people, they were everywhere. “Try to get some sleep tonight. Just remember, your dreams are not real. Bye, Hannibal.” With a small pat on his shoulder and a smile Laura went to look for one of the nannies, telling them she’d like to take Hannibal with her for shopping. They didn’t mind, in fact they seemed rather positive towards the idea. With that Laura left for home, ready to rest herself.

The rest of the day, the night, and morning, Laura kept thinking of Hannibal. His quietness and calm presence. In a way Laura felt like he wasn’t a child anymore, he’d seen or experienced something that has demanded him to grow up. He was melancholic or even depressed and Laura wanted to make at least one day of his childhood less miserable. Laura understood the adults of the orphanage growing frustrated with him but they could not blame him. When the time neared eleven Laura was already on her way to the orphanage and pulled in front of it five minutes early. She didn’t bother going inside further than the entrance to pick up Hannibal and in case the shopping list had changed a new list from the faculty.

It felt like she was kind of making fun of him with the snake comment, and Hannibal scrunched his nose up to fix her with a mock glare. Despite that, he still watched her leave with some reluctance, wanting to drag her back. It had been nice to have someone who was paying attention to him for once, even though everyone else was louder. The night hadn’t been completely peaceful. He’d still woken up a couple of times shaking and reaching out over the edge of the bed like someone was supposed to be there. But he’d been able to fall asleep a bit faster than normal. The promise of having a better day tomorrow was enough to cling onto as he waited for consciousness to slip away.

The next morning he waited for Laura in his usual spot sitting near the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister with a book balanced in his lap, though he was barely paying attention to the pages. Each time the door opened he’d look up in excitement to see who it was, so far being disappointed each time when it was someone else. He was actually quite excited to leave the oppressive building even just for a few hours without a gigantic crowd of other children. Though he had been purposefully not thinking about the fact that he would eventually have to return. When she finally walked through the door, Hannibal almost bounced up from his seat to rush down the stairs, stopping when he came close to her. A smile pushed at his lips as he looked up at her and mouthed the word ‘Hi.’

[blondiesandbrunes-blog]

pcthetics:

*wants to rp with everyone*

*stares at one draft for three hours*

[unethicalpsychiatry]

Amen

[zpellbnd-deactivated20210117]

Check Mate - @unethicalpsychiatry

It was the sound of her breath on her lips which caused her to realise their silence, silence that had lasted longer than it should have, though it’s nature was not special; they had been here before. There was also the continuous, intrusive thoughts, mostly questions that she would not bare witness to Hannibal, not for them to be scrutinised… because Bedelia understood the ‘nature’ of him too.

There had been sessions where she had told him of her discovery of his ‘human veil,’ enlightened him to the knowledge that she understood that even now, a moment in time where he could truly be himself if he wished, he was not, that he gave her a version of himself that he was comfortable with. It was that realisation that had led them to the uncomfortable silences; he would speak very little and she would sit across from him, allowing him the silence in which she was unsure he wanted.

Lips pursed into a line, her blue eyes hardened by the time that had passed between them, and with a shift of her hand, closed the dark leather journal, her hands enfolding together. “Our time is up Hannibal.” The tone of her voice was controlled by the very little display of emotion on her face, and to anyone besides Hannibal, would exchange pleasantries and be on their way without questioning, but there was annoyance there too.

They had been skimming between boundaries for quite a while, the past three afternoons, conversation outside of their session proved to be much more insightful and perhaps engaging than during. This intrigued her, for someone who was so set on refusing her retirement, had very little to say beyond his person suit. Bedelia couldn’t help but feel slight offence at this,perhaps it only being his plain discredit to her as a psychiatrist and such annoyance wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Though it was Hannibal who would be susceptible to it.

“Red or White?”

Bedelia stood then, placing the journal on the table in between them, her eyes landing on his, perhaps a challenge for him that he would not attempt to read the things she had written.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

Hannibal somewhat enjoyed ‘awkward silences,’ they allowed him to watch the other person when they were put into a difficult situation. With Bedelia, the fun came in frustrating her and waiting for it to finally boil over. She was always so calm and perfectly poised, never a hair out of place, and he just wanted to shatter the neutral expression that she wore so well. Sending Neil to her had had the opposite of its intended effect. It felt like he was able to understand even less now than he had before. He wanted to see what would happen when she actually lost her temper.

“Red. Unless you would prefer otherwise.”

As he listened to the receding click of her heels, Hannibal looked down at the journal with an expression close to contempt, leaving his hands folded in his lap. It was almost insulting. He was, of course, curious as to what she had written. Notes were intended to be private, never shown to the patient or anyone else, and even he’d occasionally jotted down an opinion that was too honest to be civil, or had been pretending to write when a patient bored him. He suspected her notes would likely be a scathing critique of his persona, as she was one of the few people who had started to see the seams at the edges of it. 

At the moment, though, they’d fallen into an uneasy standoff, neither of them gaining any ground. Hannibal refusing to talk about anything other than the facts of the previous week, and even then making no mention of his reactions to them. He only became marginally more communicative during their conversations after, when it seemed more possible to pry something out of her if he offered up tiny fragments of himself. Looking at the notes felt like the fastest way for him to lose. The answers weren’t nearly as important as the method by which he obtained them, so he remained frozen in his seat, gazing placidly out the window as he waited for her to return.

[unstableempathy-old-blog-deacti]

Closed Roleplay w/ @unethicalpsychiatry

[unstcbleempathy]

Murder could change an individual, transform them into something that they were not or weren’t meant to be. Graham knew this for a fact and he, himself, had been EVOLVING since his release from prison. Verger’s ending was simple and yet, he struggled with the morality of being the meatpacker’s ultimate foe. Perhaps, Will was still more human than he thought. The act of manslaughter took a heavy toll upon someone and most of the times, people couldn’t handle the act that they had just done. However, he seemed pretty accepting for the most part. Once he fought past the haze he found his mind in, he would be alright and UNBOTHERED by the deed he had committed. Hannibal had been the main cause of his metamorphosis and Will had become a possible omen of death. He could live himself…right? He could THRIVE knowing what he’s BECOME? Only time would truly tell, but at the moment, he was embracing it.

The interior of the house was familiar and it was comforting to see a sight that he could pull from the depths of his spanning memory. Hannibal wore a perfectly tailored person suit and no average person would be able to see past the disguise the man had created for himself. It was flawless. Listening to the cannibal’s words, Will gave a soft nod to indicate his understanding as his eyes absorbed the details of the settings that were presented to him. His weary form moved with stumbling steps as he headed towards the bathroom. “Thank you for letting me stay.” He stated, stopping for a moment before closing the door behind him.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

“You’re always welcome.” He replied with a small smile, knowing that whatever he said was likely barely registering for the exhausted agent. “I’ll leave some clothes for you just outside the door, and I’ll be upstairs when you’re finished.” The door closing sounded almost deafening in the near silence of the hall, and Hannibal let it echo in his ears for a moment before turning to walk up the stairs. He retrieved a spare set of clothes for Will and set them in a small pile beside the door before returning to his own room. He threw his shirt into the trash, knowing that it was completely ruined, the pants were dark enough to be saved. He had to fight against the irrational urge to simply sink onto the bad and pass out, forcing himself to walk toward the shower instead.

He used the time it took for the water to warm up to take stock of the various injuries he’d sustained over the course of the day. If Verger hadn’t died hours before, he certainly wouldn’t have lived past tomorrow. There was a persistent ache in both of Hannibal’s shoulders that he knew would grow over the night, and barring a miracle he probably wouldn’t be able to move them tomorrow without painkillers. He could feel various scrapes and bruises stinging as his brain ran out of distracting stimuli, but chose to leave them be if they weren’t actively bleeding. Hannibal let out a long sigh of relief as he abandoned his examinations and stepped into the spray. He stood there for a long time with his head bent, eyes closed as he let the water patter against his back. It was the first time he’d been able to stand still and just breathe since he’d woken up that morning. He could almost feel the sweat and dirt and blood being carved away in rivulets until he was left in just his skin.

[ivnwrites]

Caroline Dhavernas in Mary Kills People.

[inadxquacy]

unethicalpsychiatry:

He let out a loud breath halfway between a sigh and a scoff, slumping down in his chair. Hannibal really couldn’t imagine his life changing any time in the near future. At the moment he was just stuck repeating almost identical days over and over again, waiting until he was old enough to leave on his own like the lawyer had promised. There was a slight burn at the back of his throat that he recognized as the edge of tears as he considered the prospect of only having sporadic nights with uninterrupted sleep for the rest of his life. The strange schedule didn’t bother him much at the moment, except for the days when he was almost too tired to deal with everything, but he could imagine it becoming a major problem for the all the plans he’d laid out for his future.

He wiped his hands on a towel and reached out to retrieve his notebook, writing his answer in a rapid scrawl that tilted across the page below his earlier neat letters. ‘I’m not afraid of anything.’ The pen clicked against the counter top as scraping the peel off the tangerines with his nail suddenly became an incredibly difficult task that required his full attention. The juice stung the tiny cuts on the back of his hand that he’d gotten after brushing up against one of the unfinished walls the previous day. It tiny sparks of pain running along his fingers that he ignored in favour of watching Laura out of the corner of his eye apprehensively. 

Reading what he wrote Laura wanted to let out a soft laugh but instead smiled before sighing and shaking her head. Admitting one’s fears was step one, clearly the boy wasn’t taking that step just yet. But he was warming up to her no doubt, otherwise he’d be somewhere alone and not near her. “Well, I have at least 5 things I am afraid of. Everyone has at least one fear. Maybe you just don’t know clearly what you’re afraid of.” Laura continued cutting and peeling fruits into the bowl before she was finished and she wiped her hands. Hannibal made a good little helper, quite honestly Laura enjoyed having a quiet child helping her instead of a hyper, whiny or unfocused one. He reminded her of herself when she was a child, quiet and in a way serious. And sensitive. Laura had her nightmares, most of her childhood she was clutched onto her mother or great uncle, excited to learn new things and enjoying the company of adults. 

“I promised I’d go by a few stores tomorrow, pick up some things for this place. Would you like to come with?” Maybe some time outside the place would help Hannibal and Laura could further see his character when he wasn’t surrounded by people he had to live with. “I could use help and maybe it’d do good for you to get out for a while. And you could use a new notepad and pen probably.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

He looked down at the notebook thumbing over the edges of the pages. They’d become uneven and wrinkled over the past few months he’d had it, the cover bent in half from the one time he’d accidentally dropped it down the stairs. At least half of it was filled with crossed out sentences that he’d never shown to anyone and random drawings of things he’d seen out the window, represented in blocky shapes that he’d tried to refine with help from various how-to books he found at the library. He flipped to the last few pages, estimating how many lines he had left before they were all full and his eyes caught on his last sentence. He stared at it, a weird twisty feeling crawling through his stomach, before drawing a line through the words and writing beneath ‘I think I’m afraid of snakes. Their bites kill people.’ There were other underlying things that scared him more, but this was the one he was wiling to admit at the moment.

It had been a few weeks since he’d been outside the grounds for something other than school. There were occasional outings, but he’d done his best to avoid being dragged along on them, not wanting to play with the other kids because they were too loud. He looked up at her and nodded carefully. Laura didn’t seem like the kind of person who would force him into anything he didn’t want to deal with, and she had been actually nice rather than just pleasantly tolerant he also assumed she would be okay with him hiding behind her in crowds.

[velnias-x-deactivated20180926]

PSA

Since a lot of people have asked about my artwork and edits I’ve decided to make a commission page. I’m not sharing it out yet because I’m wanting to build up samples.

I’m willing to do a few freebies icons, banners, graphics for anyone interested in helping me out. Please just message me.

[illustratedwonders-a-blog]

Damn, he who was he kidding? He’d been chatting with a psychopath. The only human who he had believed to be such a person had been his father, but that was before his encounter with the cannibal. He wasn’t as afraid as he thought he would have been and luckily, he was still able to sleep at night with the information that had been shared with him. Perhaps, he was much stronger than he originally knew.

Aiden exhaled deeply before he allowed himself to be hooked up to the machines and placed under the trance, with his consciousness slipping from him once again. Upon opening his eyes again, he was standing in the familiar chapel with a high ceiling and beautiful artwork and stained glass that decored the walls. He pushed himself away from the bench that he had been leaning against. His first few steps were a clumsy stumble, but he was able to find his footing rather quickly before he could manage to make a fool of himself.

Clasping his hands behind his back and keeping his shoulders free of tension, the artist stepped forward, heading towards the area where the altar was placed. The sound of his footfalls echoed in his ears with each step and his nerves sung as if he were in some sort of danger. He came to a stop in front and raised his eyes to the sights that rested above him and his dark blue eyes remained widened as he took in the details that had been created to cover the vast ceiling above. It was a beautiful masterpiece and he couldn’t help but marvel at it. 

[unethicalpsychiatry]

@illustratedwonders

Hannibal watched from one of the darker corners at the back of the church as Aiden flickered into view, his breathing shallow and quiet so he wouldn’t immediately draw attention to himself until the boy had adjusted to his environment once more. “I regret that Iwas only able to visit the cappella palatina twice, once when I was young, the other nearly a year ago.” Hannibal strolled along the aisle at a sedate pace, allowing his footsteps to echo off the stone walls as he came to stand even with Aiden beneath one of the high arches. “Byzantine architecture displayed a stunning mix of eastern and western artistic and construction practices that arguably hasn’t been seen since.” The individual pieces of the mosaics swam and shifted as he gazed up at the ceiling, their edges fusing and separating into different random fractures that still outlined the same images. Hannibal could remember the general design clearly, but the individual tiles eluded him, being too far away for him to examine closely from the floor. “The sheer skill and detail involved means that even with my mind, I’m sure there are parts of it that I haven’t remembered correctly.” He admitted with a rueful smile, reaching out to trace his fingertips over the ridges carved into one the the marble columns.

It had come as a surprise when the guards arrived to escort him to the medical wing of the building. He’d been quietly pleased as well. The sessions relieved some of the tedium of waiting in his cell for the same few people to arrive an attempt to pick through his reactions. The ease with which he could provoke Chilton was entertaining at first, but it quickly became predictable and thus boring. Alana on the other hand had stopped reacting almost entirely. She’d started to almost ignore him, so their conversations quickly faded into uncomfortable silence. He took a step back and turned to look at Aiden with a polite smile. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me again.” He’d half expected the boy to refuse when the FBI would have asked him to return, like the others that had come before him. He still wanted to know the real reason. ‘The right thing’ worked rhetorically, but real life was hardly ever so simple.

[illustratedwonders-blog]

A familiar voice steadily drew his attention and slowly, Aiden glanced over his shoulder at the source. Instantly, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his nerves sang. Now on high alert, his blinked as he eyed Hannibal’s form with a careful gaze. He could agree that the sight of the presented architecture was absolutely INCREDIBLE. He has seen a countless number of beautiful views over the span of his lifetime, but this certain ranked among the list. The details that were projected seemed extremely accurate and he found it to be astounding with what one’s mind was able to remember. Memory was a powerful aspect in anyone’s life and Aiden was positive that this site would be forever engrained in his brain.

He had been tempted to turn down the offer to enter the thought process of the killer again, but what they promised to contribute to him was something he secretly longed for. This country was his motherland and in turn, he believed that he had every right to set foot on the soil of this nation that he had been forced out of. It’s almost humorous how one’s action of self-defense could be easily ratified as something else. However, Aiden still felt as if he was being baited. What’s not to say that he could suddenly be killed right now by an outside force? He was at his most vulnerable, but he was anchored here now without another option.

The genuine smile was only a small sight that was supposed to showcase someone’s good nature. Aiden, however, knew that he must think differently of Lecter. There was a danger that came from that man and he had no intention of dying just yet. “I don’t think I really had an option in the matter. I’m not the type of person just to walk away from something that offers me an opportunity in return.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

“And why not? You still haven’t said what this ‘opportunity’ is.” There were few things that annoyed Hannibal more than having the framework of a riddle laid out in front of him, but having the answer withheld. He could almost see the web of clues plotted across his vision, each pointing to each other till they converged at an eventual answer. But at this time, half of them were blank, implications to something that he couldn’t quite make out. It meant he had to wait for more to be revealed, and his current infamy made that difficult. Aiden seemed too cautious and guarded to let his secrets peek around the edges of his words. Was it because he was speaking to a convicted serial killer, or was this his default mode of communication regardless of who he spoke to? “Forgive me, but I doubt you agreed to this just to add it to your resume.” He cocked his head, arms folding over his chest. “You’ve already used the excuse of it being ‘the right thing’ so I expect you to think of something better this time.” Perhaps he could wear the boy down until he could no longer invent excuses, but that would take time. Time he likely didn’t have.

Over the course of the previous week, he’d managed to talk one of the nurses into telling him what they knew about Aiden and his life before before contracting for the FBI (in the process of doing so, he had managed to thoroughly annoy his jailers, and likely get said nurse fired, but in the end, he’d only asked the questions, he wasn’t responsible for the answers). They’d only really heard about the boy’s books, something with wolves and old world occultism that were published from out of the country. Hannibal glanced over his shoulder at the deep shadows that clung to the chapel’s walls beyond the long pews, and an idea sprang to mind. He tapped his fingertips lightly against the seam of his pants, closing his eyes for the moment it took. The sounds started quietly at first, soft scratches and clicks that slowly spread from one corner, growing in number till they surrounded the room, bits of fur flashing into view before disappearing back into the darkness. He kept his gaze trained squarely on Aiden as the dark shapes circled closer, the shadows closing in around the two of them.

[inadxquacy]

unethicalpsychiatry:

She seemed to be looking at her memories with an odd mix of regret and longing, which wasn’t quite unusual for any given recollection. “Why don’t we say the same time next week for now, and you have my contact information should anything occur.” He answered, finding the day on the calendar he kept in his mind. “I won’t answer the office phone if I’m with a patient, but in the event of an emergency, you have my cell phone number.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze before letting go, gratified that she had taken it so easily in the first place. After the way they had met, he’d half expected her to remain cautious around him until the instant she could get a referral to another doctor. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that she hadn’t yet requested one.

He opened the door weeks later with a tight smile across his lips. The right side of his face still felt slightly numb, and each breath he took was tinted with the flour like scent of the makeup he’d used to cover most of the bruise marring his skin. He’d been able to excuse the dark shadow stretching across his cheekbone by explaining that he’d knocked a book lose by accident when reaching for another one and hadn’t moved out of the way fast enough. He’d had some experience with such an injury, only barely avoiding it when he’d first set the books on the shelves, and the random tome he’d placed on the corner of his desk leant credence to the tale. But a made up story didn’t quite work if the person standing in front of you had seen what had actually happened from less than a foot away.

“Laura. I’m sorry our last meeting ended the way it did.” It was an understated way to phrase the altercation he’d had with Mercer after their last appointment, especially given the evidence he’d hidden after the face. He was curious to see what her reaction would be without influence from his own, wanting to know how she had seen it. “Are you alright?”

Of course the moment things were looking brighter for her, even though her tension and doubt remained with Lecter, and after being able to make changes in her life Alec had to mess everything up. But at least being angry at him kept her from returning to his mother and putting some distance to him as a friend. Then again he was unhappy when Laura made it clear she’d live on her own again, visiting Mrs. Mercer just sometimes as a friend. It had been a time to stand up, at least she was receiving some professional help, suspicious doctor or not. 

“I’m the one who should apologise, I asked him to pick me up for some stupid reason.” Perhaps it was a gesture to mend their friendship after Alec had been upset, turns out he wasn’t upset with Laura or so it seemed. And after the conflict Laura was the one having to listen to him talk and get angry over the doctor. Laura feared Hannibal would involve the police but then again it’d be a risk on his part as well should Laura choose to defend Alec. Which she doubted she would do. 

“He can be an… asshole sometimes.” It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed physical anger in Alec but it was the first time he saw him using it on another person. And Laura was shaken, she never handled conflict or anything the like well. Violence was something she’d witnessed and experienced and it scared her. “Never mind me. How’s the bruise?” If it were someone else Laura would be close, examining it and trying to figure out a way to ease the pain, but she preferred keeping her distance with Hannibal even though she cared.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

The description garnered a raised eyebrow. From their few encounters, Mercer’s only modes of interaction had seemed to be either arguing constantly or hostile silence, both of which involved him glaring daggers at Hannibal while lurking behind someone else. He seemed overly suspicious given that there was no way he could know who was responsible for his father’s death. There was still the prospect that Laura had told him, but wouldn’t she have done so already? By this point he had to wonder if she wouldn’t become a target for Mercer’s anger if she revealed what she knew. Then again, Hannibal had a habit of bringing out the worst in some individuals, either by design or simple personality clashes that he didn’t care to resolve. “It’s healing quite well, Thank you. I should be perfectly fine by the end of the week.” He answered with a smile, stepping aside to hold the door open for her. “Given my hobbies, I’ve learnt how to take a punch.” The harder part had been learning how to conceal and make excuses for the marks left behind when they couldn’t be easily hidden under his clothes.

“This is in no way your fault. I know you avoid driving, and I don’t expect you to be responsible for anyone’s actions except your own.” He crossed the room to stand at his desk, leaning against the edge as he rested a hand over one of the notebooks he kept stacked on the corner. He’d made a habit of only writing down his observations of Laura after she’d left, though half of their conversations were recorded in euphemisms. “I can’t imagine this helped your relationship, though?” From what he’d seen, the distance between the two of them had grown in the time Laura had been speaking with Hannibal, only becoming more strained as they pulled further apart.

[unethicalpsychiatry]

I turn 21 tomorrow. I’m sorry I’ve been so slow on replies, I’m going to sit down tonight and just force myself to write stuff.

[unstableempathy-old-blog-deacti]

Closed Roleplay w/ @unethicalpsychiatry

[unstcbleempathy]

He was like a WOUNDED stray to many, who rested their eyes upon him. He seemed too injured to want assistance from anyone and therefore, snapped his jaws at whoever came near. His cautiousness made him seem timid. He was not the adventurous type and he preferred to stay in his own little bubble, separated from the outside world that was full of those who wanted to tear down his barriers with one single push. However, maybe (just maybe) he was more dangerous than he knew. 

He was willingly allowing himself to be pulled along with Hannibal’s proceedings as if he was just a horse to a wagon. He knew the winters could be unkind to those who weren’t prepared. He no longer felt congested and uneasy for he had been slipped into a world that he knew by heart. The scent of the hospital’s surroundings soon disappeared from his mind and it wasn’t long until he utterly forgot that he had even been present in such a building. He did not belong in the wings of medical rooms. Death has brushed over his soul and yet, he was still present. It was as if the force was trying to tease him. Will did not long to depart from this world, for he had found his place within the bustling atmosphere. 

Hannibal’s voice dragged his attention back and Will blinked slightly as he glanced at the other with exhausted eyes. “I,” he exhaled as he collected his thoughts. “I know what I did. I am aware of what I had committed.” He was AWARE. He was no longer attempting to struggle through the darkness without a sense of where he was headed. He had found his stability and grasped onto it tightly as if it was his lifeline. Verger had threatened their lives…and the horrendous actions of the man had to be avenged. “I don’t think there was an alternate solution.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

He’d considered the myriad consequences of letting Verger live before he’d given the choice to Will, not knowing how strong the empath’s stomach for murder was. He couldn’t be sure if Verger was aware of Hannibal’s own hobbies, but they likely would have been trapped in an uneasy standoff till one of them slipped and inevitable brought the whole ramshackle house of cards tumbling down. “There are always other solutions.” He mused. “Beyond simply the one’s we don’t choose, there are others we can’t see or ignore because they would only hinder us. Theoretically, the possibilities for every situation are infinite, and we gradually eliminate each one till the final outcome is reached.” He glanced over at Will’s tired expression and lapsed into silence, letting him drift through the haze he seemed to be trapped in. In truth, Hannibal wasn’t sure if he truly believed his own words, as it seemed to change from day to day. There had been enough times when he’d been unable to find options in his own life, even in hindsight.

His own house stood dark and cold, empty in comparison to the ones nearby filled with their sleeping inhabitants. Despite that, stepping into into it’s long shadow was still somewhat comforting, finally being able to return to something familiar after spending the past few hours being dragged halfway across the state. He opened the passenger side door and held out an arm to help Will out of the car. The sadistic lean of his personality felt a spark of enjoyment at the sight of Will completely exhausted and vulnerable, guard finally down again after his release from prison. The street was almost silent save for the fluorescent buzzing of the lights along the sidewalk and the snow crunching quietly underfoot. It made the sound of his keys clinking out of his pocket was almost deafening as he ushered Will inside the house, flicking on lights ahead of them. “There’s a bathroom down here as well as upstairs if you’d like to shower. I can lend you clothes until you have a chance to return home.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

[rebelsdroid-blog]

@invalensname // starter call !

    “I’ll have you know that Captain Andor forbade me from coming in here, and I did it anyway.” The droid stands stiffly outside the other’s cell, giving the man a blank, steady stare. “They say it is against protocol for droids to be around other prisoners, however, I do not care what protocol requires most times as I fail to care now.”

    He pulls up a chair – K2 doesn’t really have a desire to sit down ( ever ), but he’s seen others do this with prisoners of the Alliance. By this point, it processes as learned behavior on the droid’s behalf.

    “You should tell me where you come from, Axton, so that I do not have to stick a sharp object into your rib-cage.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

“Is it protocol for you to have this much attitude?”  It was difficult for him to suppress a snigger when the droid settled into the chair. He knew it was technically possible for them to sit, but he’d never actually seen it happen before. They’d always been standing in the background, menacing but eminently polite. “I thought all the KX factories were controlled by the empire, so how the hell did you get out this far?”

“Well are we talking whole life story, street where I was born and all that jazz?” He’d spent approximately the last hour lounging in the corner of the cell, fiddling with one of the many pockets sewn onto his fatigues. It’s contents had been taken along with everything else he’d had on him when he’d been delivered to the base, but that hadn’t stopped him from snapping the clasp back and forth out of sheer boredom.  “Or like ship assignments, commanding officers, all the stuff you could see in my records?”

[scoundrcls]

unethicalpsychiatry:

The cell didn’t offer much of a view beyond the linoleum floor and Matthew’s cell across from his. But this close to the bars Hannibal could hear the quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights in the hall, nostrils burning with the acrid scent of industrial disinfectant. It would take a few days for him to learn the doctors and staff, but eventually those queues would be enough for him to discern who was approaching him.

It was difficult to resist the urge to roll his eyes at Matthew’s commentary. “’Pets?’“ He parroted back with a sardonic half smile and a quirked eyebrow.  “You didn’t strike me as someone who would be content as a lapdog.” 

His expression became carefully relaxed, neutral to the point of being unnatural, the corners of his lips dipping in agitation. Matthew had managed to touch on one of the few exposed nerves he had left even with the years he’d spent  ignoring them. Losing sight of the outside world completely was one of the very few aspects of being locked away that had daunted him, still causing a cold weight to sink into the pit of his stomach. It was the reason why he’d used his spare moments to bury himself in history and literature, stockpiling memories and images so he would have them until there wasn’t enough left of his mind to mourn their absence. 

“I was born in Europe, yes.” He answered with a false indulgent smile, not seeing a reason to offer any more information. “Though you yourself had a role in drawing attention away.” The constable’s death and the attempt on his own life had only led to a time consuming and ultimately fruitless investigation as to whether Mathew was the ripper, giving Hannibal more time to plan for the day he would eventually be discovered. “You’re aware, aren’t you, that when you killed the constable you were actually copying me?”

⸻  “Zoo animals can be considered pets, too, Hannibal,” Matthew mused bad in return, with a soft tilt of his head and fingers tapping gently against the iron bars. He also shrugs his shoulders, looking down the long hallway, “besides… I don’t mind being a lapdog if I’m on the right lap. I’m sure you don’t mind having your mutt in yours when he isn’t out sniffing out other more… interesting killers.” 

It was a great feeling, getting these subtle reactions from the man across the hallway. It’s not something most people would catch, the way the light in those gray eyes seems to shift, the smile curling in a certain way that is meant for mockery or hatred. Matthew started pacing again, playing a melody on the bars with the tips of his fingers as he moved along, eyes searching towards the ground as he shrugs his shoulders once more.

“Sure,” was the easy answer. “You know - for an old man, you’re pretty strong. Getting a dead person up on a stag’s head like that? Phew,” he whistles, shaking his head with a grin on his face. “Honestly… in the end, it doesn’t matter much to me. I did it for Mr. Graham. And if you’re able to do something like that… He’s just as capable. It’s Mr. Graham, after all, you know? He knows more about you and me than we do ourselves.” 

[unethicalpsychiatry]

The bed sank silently under his weight as he sat - no springs that one could pry loose to use as a weapon, giving himself the space of a slow blink to turn Matthew’s words over in his head. He’d managed to turn them both him and Chilton into patsies in the space of a few months, and it certainly wasn’t beyond imagining that the two would have formed some sort of alliance after Hannibal’s capture gave them both a chance for some sort of retribution.

Matthew was still as irritating and vainglorious as he’d remembered, dodging around questions in a manner that was almost impressive. Under different circumstances, their hostile tete-a-tete could have actually been somewhat enjoyable. He’d wanted to pick through Matthew’s brain more than once after the attack, wanting to know why he’d come the closest to actually taking Hannibal's life. Present circumstances, however, made it difficult, as he still felt somewhat off balance in the cell despite remembering the asylum clearly from his previous visits. “Tasteless, Mr. Brown.” He narrowed his eyes but otherwise gazed across the hall calmly. “Though I can see your obsession hasn’t waned in the least.

[broken-empath-deactivated202006]

Private Starter;; @unethicalpsychiatry

Will stood in the doorway of Hannibal’s office, neutral expression on his face and watching Hannibal from behind his glasses. “Jack sent me to get you. He refused to call- wanted me to come around with a car instead.” He rested his back against the wooden frame, hands in his trouser pockets. “Another murder got called in, and he wants you there too.”

[unethicalpsychiatry]

“That’s the fourth one in two months, and I assume it’s the same as the others or you wouldn’t be asked.” He remarked, shifting the paperwork on his desk into a neat stack to complete tomorrow. The timing was inconvenient to say the least, but the FBI didn’t exactly have control over when they would be called. “Do you feel able to investigate,” He rose from his seat, cocking his head to look at Will. “or would you like me to pull you from the case?”