#hannibal has done some shit but he’s acting like this is a weird situation

[rorykillmore]

now that they're starting to settle in, how do you think alana is going to get along with her canonmates going forward? and how do you think any rogue elements, like hannibal showing up or a murder mystery plot would affect that?

alana @ impending castmate drama: Boy. 

okay well with will things are... obviously rocky, although like. alana can recognize that will is genuinely trying and has gone out of his way to do very kind things for her, like trying to give her a little bit of closure with abigail. she’s not like... actively holding a grudge against will out of spite or anything, it’s just hard for her to be able to trust him. she still cares about him, and she’s aware that he still cares about her, but she’s also aware that if shit started to get... Very real again, like if something with hannibal came up, that she probably?? couldn’t trust will? 

whether it’s “i don’t trust him not to get himself hurt” or “i don’t trust him not to get someone else hurt” or “i don’t trust him not to ultimately side with hannibal” even she doesn’t quite know, i think, but any way you slice it will’s behavior tends to get. Volatile when that’s a factor. so she’s in kind of a weird place of sympathizing with will and caring about him too much and feeling too guilty about not believing him to want to cut him out of her life permanently, but feeling too... nervous about him to fully want to commit to rebuilding their friendship.

so it’s hard to say how things might pan out for them down the road. alana might fall back into being (by her standards) a little too attached to him in spite of herself if they spend enough time together, but if hannibal does show up i think that would be a serious obstacle for them...

and then with margot... it’s so interesting because i feel like in canon it was maybe like, circumstantially more easy for them to trust each other because despite the precariousness of that situation it was pretty clear that neither of them were crazy about mason. on denny they don’t have anything that... immediate or dire uniting them, so they kinda have to feel things out on their own. for alana’s part, she genuinely likes margot, and one thing i think is fun about them is that a couple of the ships we’ve done in the past have had our characters be COMPLETELY oblivious to their feelings until late in the game. with margot and alana, not that they have like, ‘feelings’ this early on, but just playing with this kind of lightly veiled mutual attraction that neither of them are sure they want to act on is fun and different!

but i think alana also has like, these subtle nagging doubts that she isn’t sure how to interpret yet. realistically speaking margot comes from a situation where she’d probably have a lot to hide, and it’s not like they know each other that well yet so she has plenty of reason to withhold personal information, which is all stuff alana can rationalize. it’s just that she’s really fallen into over-analyzing people’s intentions and worrying about trusting them so it puts her just a little bit on edge anyway. which is why i think if she found out about will and margot’s stuff it might... freak her out a little bit (although if she had full context she’d be much more pissed at like, mason and hannibal naturally, so it’d just depend on how that happens)

so a lot of it depends on how things play out, obviously they have... a lot of baggage to work through, but overall alana is such a resiliently loyal person that the closer they get the less likely she is to spook too much. she’ll want mason dead properly by the end of this, as she should,

as for freddie.....  fucking freddie lounds. now that alana is properly involved in the mld and freddie is pretty set on continuing, well, her line of work, i think it’s pretty much a given that freddie is going to be a thorn in alana’s side. it’d be one thing if alana was doing something more like, private, and freddie wouldn’t have much to report about her or anything related to her work, but seeing as that’s not the case they’re probably bound to get into a few situations where freddie’s publishing stories that alana does NOT appreciate her publishing,

tony has described freddie and alana as like, a mean first grader who keeps pulling the pigtails of the girl she likes to get attention, which i think is a very apt if hilarious take. i think sometimes freddie isn’t even doing anything to be outright malicious but she’s so careless about boundaries that alana usually HATES it when freddie teases her regardless. which, then gives freddie the attention she wants of course, 

but anyway i think there’s some potential for some interesting ground with them, like the fact that they did both care about abigail or like... as much as alana and freddie’s respective fields means they might be at each other’s throats at times, there are also occasions where freddie might be useful to some kinds of investigative process, so there’s always room for a teamup or two. whatever happens i think they’ll always be kind of, rivals who sometimes tolerate each other at best, but there’s room for that to be very dynamic which is fun

as for any potential curveballs... obviously hannibal would shake pretty much everyone up! as i mentioned earlier it would probably instill a lot of rockiness between will and alana. she’d want to keep will from getting hurt if she could, but honestly in that kind of situation she’d be a lot more likely to rely on margot or even freddie. margot and alana, as we know from canon, are very good at being pragmatic together when they want to be, and freddie... is someone alana can at least trust to have a strong investment in self-preservation. so. of course this kind of situation would also run the risk of getting messy just because alana’s so... catching hannibal really feels like the only path to any kind of closure for her, like she feels very personally responsible to handle that, so. idk who knows how deeply she’d get entrenched in That

and murder mystery plot seems like a really fun thing for all of them, like, if we can find a way for all of them to be involved in that?? maybe add some personal stakes or something. maybe we should toss around some ideas sometime because i feel like maybe the easiest way to start shaping this plot For Real is to nail down some definite things we want it to involve and then start building around them...

#thanks spear!! #im super here for castmate drama tbh #cuts dennys lvad wire #larkspear

[cyanpeacock]

Realtalk(tm): Pain.png

ok so hello again my good and loyal scrubs.

im in pain again today? and like, as is frequent, not understanding its source very well or what to do about it very well

and i think maybe, all i can do is accept it? if the pain isn’t going away despite, like, changing activities, and drinking water, and eating, then is it just, like, i can’t avoid it? can’t get away from it?

a lot is like, the pain of that little kid who got pulled around physically and verbally and emotionally. a lot of like, this pain can’t be real, i’m just, you know, acting, or faking, or something.

but like... this doesn’t benefit me at all. i’ve tried acting happy! i do not feel happy, i feel very sad, and the smile comes out all sad. i can’t, like, beam on command. so, i suppose i am just sad and in pain. and i can’t change that, only manage it.

my head hurts like I might get a full-on migraine but idk yet.

some of the pain is also the pain of a young man who didn’t, like, even realise yet that what he was going through was abuse, so he was transferring it onto others he did “love” but couldn’t love healthily, and really doing his best to apologise when it was made known to him he was hurting people, but didn’t understand there are some things an apology can never heal. 

there is also the pain of an older younger man who bonded through trauma with someone, and while that person was a wonderful amazing woman so often, she really hurt him, like, so much, by denying some of his real actual experience of pain, instead of validating it. and i don’t know for sure, because this is a conversation that may never happen, but i’m pretty sure i did the same to her? 

and then like, my mother’s voice is there, saying, “you’re making this up,” “stop exaggerating,” “i think you’re overreacting.”

but like, on Counselling Day this week, i told my counsellor i hated my mother? and saying that now brings me a sense of... weird relief. no more guilt. because i felt it so often. i felt, i fucking hate this woman, i hate what she’s doing to me, i hate that i can’t escape-- and then it was time to like, go downstairs, and she’d be all... how she was. “I love you really.” “You’ll understand later.” “You’re being silly.”

like... i never said that before? not even to my counsellor, who i’ve been seeing for literally like, four years, on and off? is that how deep she made me bury those extreme fucking feelings, for her comfort?

i’m still really like... disconnected from my body. eating and sleeping and like, shit like how much weight i can carry without literally crying and stuffing it back down again, is evading me. but, like, it’s kind of making sense as to why it’s so difficult now.

and i keep thinking! like, why can’t i just “pack it up!”, you know?! why can’t i just shove this all away and hide it like i used to!

well, uh, i did that for so long, again, that the cardboard box exploded, and i went completely fucking manic and psychotic in the street.

and i thought my grandad would help me, you know? give me a room to stay in? at least help me get a supervised stay in a hospital? and he didn’t.

the psychiatrist i saw before the incident took off also didn’t help me. and recently, i learned a lot of other people have had Major Problems with the guy. like, major confidentiality breaches, disclosure of serious personal trauma to entire rooms full of very uncomfortable people who knew they shouldn’t be hearing this. but because he is the consultant psych for my area, the top dog, i don’t know what anyone can do about that?! we’re all sick! we barely have the energy to live, let alone complain enough to kick him out of health services!!!

it fucking shakes me, right. it was his eyes? like, i’m a masochist, i’ll share that pretty freely on here. and i’ve known self-proclaimed sadists and sadistic people, very well, actually. they have this weird, like... it’s like, it’s not even the look a predatory animal has. it’s literally just a human being who takes joy in observing other human beings in horrific pain. like, they laugh at videos of men being thrown in wood chippers, or hit by cars. actual things i have seen. it’s a total absence of empathy.

this “doctor” had that fucking look. he looked just like NBC’s hannibal lecter. “Mmm, fascinating.” a really good front of “professional curiosity,” but like, dude, i saw how his legs were crossed, and how his face tightened to hide a smile. i’ve seen these things on other, dangerous, prejudiced people.

i have been dangerous and prejudiced. i’m still capable of being these things. but i do everything i can to catch myself in those moments, and counter the dangerousness and the prejudice. this guy just, you know, said there was nothing he could do to help me, when i was literally going full insanity, you know?

i’m realising i’ve been drawn to people with that look behind their eyes, thinking i can trust them, when actually i can just recognise them. i had suspicions about my grandfather? he’s always been very... uhm, you know, attracted to “exotic” places, objectifying cultures and people, displaying sacred totems and caricatures of sacred totems that bothered me in a way i couldn’t articulate, but was aware of. i found them beautiful too! they were beautiful items. it was just... the way he talked about “the locals” and not “the people.” disconnected. physically he lived well? 

so yh i looked at that, i thought, this seems healthy enough? but inside, i don’t think he’s doing so hot with humanity. apparently counsellors should never offer to counsel a family member, and he did that for me. i turned it down, knowing that would be way too weird, and i couldn’t tell him shit, because he’d probably tell claire.

of course, the recent thing where he lost it with me, and indirectly sent me home in the dogbox of a cop car means i won’t be contacting him again, as far as i can control it. he had this like, furious, “no-sympathy-for-you-you-lying-breaking-in-thief” look on his face. like he thought i must be on crack and lying about it, or something, when really i was on no drugs at all, psychotic, and having a horrible flashback to hiding beside the washing machine as a kid waiting for somebody to grab me and hit me. 

i get why people go to that place. it’s cheap and easy power to laugh at others’ misfortune. but like, i can’t laugh at that. i can go “OH my god AHAHA WOW FUCK. he got, he got ATE.” if i’m beside one of those people, to hide and stay safe, but i can’t ignore the like... wow, fuck, my body feels that, fuck, there went his leg, shit, i recognise that, that’s brain-- thing i get, which i suppose is empathy? feeling what another feels?

the sadist i knew best preyed on empathic people, and boasted he was an empath himself to confuse the hell out of his targets. i literally never saw him display empathy, he always responded with a different emotion, instead of feeling the same? but like, i’d had that before, from my masochistic mother who was dealing with abuse by being the cruel one with power, so yeah.  

i did that too. i fucked a life up, maybe two, i don’t know. i was still really young when it happened, and couldn’t know better, because i’d never seen better.

i had to understand that about my mother before i could understand it about myself, because of “imagine how I feel!”

so yeah, i spotted the cycle of abuse, i’m fucking, trying to cope with how quickly it’s turning in my mind, because i suppose love is appropriately balancing behaviours in order to foster... well, nurturing? i’m trying to nurture what i’ve got back to health.

and like, uh, my mind is on fire. i can learn like hell, always have done, always will do. my emotions? also on fire now, instead of, like, almost completely extinguished. because... well, like, i can’t let them go out. that’s how i hurt somebody again, that’s how i destroy another life. that might be why some or all of the sadists i know, and in the world, are Like That. they hurt so much they put their feelings out so they can feel power again. because, yeah, control over emotions borne from extreme, life-or-death situations? there isn’t any. it was life-or-death, man. your body just Acts. 

it’s really frustrating, because... i can write about these things really well. i can sing about some of it, but only to myself, with the door open, hoping somebody will hear, but too scared to sing in front of another body, even though i know somebody will need to hear those songs, and cry, or smile, or feel nothing. i can speak about it, but SO goddamn slowly, it takes ages to get through the questions. thinking about it? jesus christ, only if i think like a machine, literally like the pistons of an engine keeping the same beat the whole time.

acting about it? holy fuck. what the hell. uh, so, my body is-- it’s telling me a thing. i can sing about it. i can write about it. i can learn about it. but i’m hungry, man! how do i... okay, slowly talking to myself. i need... what do i have? things that need cooking. but the pan is heavy! it hurts my wrists! but i need food. but my shoulder hurts too, so... do i make it hurt more? do i not eat? but i need food. but if i make food, my shoulder and wrist hurt more. and then i slip into confused loops of thinking until something gets intense enough to force the body to just, Do An Action.

part of me is thinking, well, if i can write about this shit here, do i really need a counsellor any more? 

but like, looking at him, i see he’s still really worried about me. because yeah... no social support network, can’t eat or sleep on a schedule, retreating hella deep into fantasy and creative pursuits and learning about very complicated things every day... i mean, it has its benefits, but i’m basically a hermit. and i really, REALLY want to be able to WORK in a LABORATORY. which means, teamwork.

the last time i did a group project was, uh, well. i haven’t done one since because of what happened? i had a whiteout as it was my turn to present and just, bolted. disappeared for the rest of the presentation, showed up at the end to apologise to the module convener. i was shaking like hell for... shit, the whole way home, i probably smoked pot until i blacked out, told my personal tutor i couldn’t do THAT again. bc i forced myself, thinking, I Have To Do This No Choice. 

turns out, they would have let me not do it if i’d explained. but i was really thinking Oh Fuck I Have To Try.

i’ve got another group research project coming up, but that will be not this academic year, but the next. hopefully by then i will have been to group therapy and... uh, articulated this stuff to other people who are going through it, in person? in a healthy way? there’s gonna be a supervisor there, apparently, and i’m so scared, but i know i gotta go. i can’t avoid this forever. i can’t get better alone. i wanna be able to connect with others who have lived like this in person, not just on here?

i keep “choosing” to be alone, but it’s not much of a choice, really, because i know how much... well, shit. put it this way. i’m feeling So Goddamn Much all i can do is cry in the street and sometimes sing a few lines while nobody is around to really hear the song. bc part of emotional regulation is emotional expression, and i know full well i’ve felt these feelings out in the street before, but haven’t been able to express them at all. like, i just, felt without feeling. disconnected entirely.

i can’t live that way forever. if i do that, i know i’ll lash out at people in numbness, because i won’t be able to register my own intensity.

i tried getting rid of the intensity? you know, an antipsychotic, allegedly mood stabilising, but seriously. for me... i felt so flat and slow and stupid after the dose passed like, 50mg? i’m thinking, man, actually, maybe i need this intensity, otherwise i’m never gonna properly process and express my traumas, which i’m aware i need to do to... well, get to a point where i can Work Happily In A Lab.

i know it’s not happily ever after! i know if i get there, i’m still gonna be striving for more, because everybody wants to grow, and everybody wants to go up. but really, it would be... like, it would be so much. it’s why i’m clinging on. it’s why i’m still alive after almost 22 years of... well, predominantly pain. 

but i gotta get out of pain to get there. slowly, because it doesn’t all change at once.

i’m still not sure how acceptance works? how do i accept this pain. it’s still fucking rocking my damn boat every day. if i capsize, that’s suicide, you know? and i’m well aware that one more trauma could be the one that kills me. but i don’t want it to be. it might just... you know. seem like the only way out, again.

because i am one of the lucky ones. i did run away, then i ran away again, then i got a room in a hostel instead of being on the street for years, and happened to come across an amazing counsellor who will see me for free when things get bad enough i run out of money, and i got an unconditional offer from the university that are saving my god damn Hopes and Dreams and life.

but i’m also one of the unlucky ones. i had to run away, twice. i was homeless. i had to find a private counsellor, because the NHS wouldn’t or couldn’t get me help before the next time i tried to kill myself. i ended up in massive prescription debt, and emergency loan debt to the university, which they’re going to try and pay off, but like-- it’s debt, man, like, thousands. maybe ten. i couldn’t even read all the letters, i had to get a welfare officer to do it for me. 

and PIP... are checking boxes. instead of looking at my life. i’m able, to keep coming here, to the university i’m sitting in right now, and learning, because I Find Ways. but the Ways i’m Finding are... so difficult. they could be SO much less difficult. all i need is money, man. so i can afford food that’s easy to prepare and eat. so i can afford transport. so i can buy things to replace what i fuck up when i’m really, really ill. so i can afford, you know, just a few things that make me smile? like, to have a holiday? so i can keep seeing my fucking counsellor and pay him for the work he does for me?! i can and will find a way to do this, somehow, but money would speed it up so much, and get me quicker to a point where i’m balanced enough to HOPEFULLY start Working for Pay. paying my tax, putting money in so other people like me can get a leg up. 

the fact that i could only start singing my own songs, the ones i always wanted to sing, after cutting contact with my entire family... it’s kind of an indicator to me i’d lost them already.

i mean, i’ve been estranged for... three years? four? i don’t actually know, exactly. i went back occasionally... always had to use drugs of some kind to get to sleep at night.

i don’t use that way any more. i don’t wanna go numb to that tiny little child who hated “her” mum. like... she’s not even me, just, you know, that was my body? i wasn’t even allowed to be a he back then. “there were no signs.” as IF, you just didn’t ever fucking listen. i HAVE to listen to that kid. i have to acknowledge that this is pain this body felt. and nobody, ESPECIALLY not her, can take it away. because i have ownership of my body, and my memories, and i know how publicly, explosively, dangerously unwell i used to be. 

i’m a lot, lot better, now. i have crazy skills i never had before, but it’s literally, like, dude, the fire is still burning, i have to stand here with a bucket of water constantly to put it out when it gets too big, and i keep fucking getting burned! i need help! there’s SO MUCH, you know? 

i can’t even put the sim card i had to reorder in my phone yet, it’s such a relief to not have That Fucking Thing to deal with. i’m already dealing with, like, seeing my mother’s Disappointed Face(tm) staring right back at me when i pause for just a fucking moment to think. 

i want a break, man, and i know it’s not coming, bc i can’t block this out with drugs any more, and the pain lives inside me, so i just gotta... i just gotta keep processing. it wraps itself up when it’s a point where i can, you know, kind of do something else, for a little while. 

#fliptext #trauma #abuse #neglect #and so on so forth #medical neglect