Thinking About How Dr. Lecter Was Just A Sad And Lonely Teenager Who Had PTSD Because He Was So Traumatized

Thinking about how Dr. Lecter was just a sad and lonely teenager who had PTSD because he was so traumatized by his sister’s death that he became numb to his feelings and completely detached from his emotions.

That is, until Clarice came along and saved him by helping him learn how to feel again and allowed him to be emotionally vulnerable around her and make him feel safe.

She literally saved him 🥺

More Posts from Darknessalwayscometous and Others

me, who just choose to sleep instead and wake up to eat instant noodle T_T

i dont trust bitches that can have a long day and then go home and make a full dinner bc yk who else could do that? hannibal lecter

I like the clannibal one, it's so sad in the film they don't get their happy ending together :'

NBC Hannibal was romantic because Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham saw each other and silently agreed that "You are sick, yet I will love you. You are sick but I will ingest you into my system and it will cause me a great deal of pain but I will not care. Loving you is never dirty work."


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"When your heart becomes heavy, let it pull you down into sujood."

Lmao this is so true

darknessalwayscometous - fara's
I Think That's Why It's Sick

I think that's why it's sick

--Are you sick?
--No, I'm in love with you.

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh) [transcript in ALT]


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Me starting to like this baby T_T he's so cute

I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day
I Would Lay My Life Down For This Green Baby To Have A Good Day

I would lay my life down for this Green Baby to have a good day

Ibn Umar reported:

The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said,

“The most beloved people to Allah are those who are most beneficial to people.

The most beloved deed to Allah is to make a Muslim happy, or remove one of his troubles, or forgive his debt, or feed his hunger. That I walk with a brother regarding a need is more beloved to me than that I seclude myself in this mosque in Medina for a month.

Whoever swallows his anger, then Allah will conceal his faults. Whoever suppresses his rage, even though he could fulfill his anger if he wished, then Allah will secure his heart on the Day of Resurrection. Whoever walks with his brother regarding a need until he secures it for him, then Allah Almighty will make his footing firm across the bridge on the day when the footings are shaken.”

Source: al-Mu’jam al-Awsaṭ lil-Ṭabarānī 6026

Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani

To the friends who read this message and know me, I hope you can forgive me for the troubles I have given you

Palestinians are not "animals."

They are not "children of darkness."

Little kids are rescuing cats and trying to comfort them when they themselves are terrified.

A doctor broke down when his father and brother came into the trauma unit.

And several of his colleagues hugged and gathered to comfort him.

Journalists are playing with babies.

Doctors are refusing to evacuate hospitals because their patients can't and refuse to leave them.

There's a little boy who gives tea to the journalists and thanks them for spreading their stories.

He's displaced at the hospital, his home is gone.

A kid was asked what he wants to be when he grows up and he said kids in Gaza don't grow up.

Kids are writing their names on their arms so they can be identified.

Momin Kireka is a Palestinian journalist who was disabled by an Israeli attack in 2008.

And despite the difficulty in moving around, he vows to continue to show the world the truth.

Awni, a young Palestinian boy has a gaming YouTube channel he loved so much.

He was killed in the bombing.

Mohammed Sami was an artist who's dream was to open an art gallery.

He was playing with the kids to raise their spirits. And the next day he was killed.

They are victims.

They are going through unimaginable horrors and still find it in their hearts to be kind.

They have hopes and dreams just like you and I.

They are people.

And they deserve to be recognised and known as such.

Buttercup (Invincible)

Buttercup (Invincible)

Author’s note: as someone who lost my mom, I had to write for full mask mark losing his mom. Different circumstances, but still has grief all the same

Warnings: Death, grief

(Technically a short story for the Invincible AVRP AU but can be read by itself)

Characters: Full Mask Mark Grayson, Debbie Grayson

💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama!” His high pitched child voice squeaks out, running to her with open arms as if he forgot she was there with him. She smiles wider as he kneels down to his level, opening her arms wide. He giggles and crashes full force into her, knowing that she will always be there to catch him, to break his fall. He laughs as she hums “woah!” At his enthusiasm to ses her. She lifts him up into her arms, wrapping them around his tiny body to make sure he’s secure. Nothing will hurt him.

“Look mama!” He hands her the flower, and she gasps and takes it from his delicate hands.

“Woah, thank you, sweetie.” He beams at the praise.

“Do you know what flower this is?” He shakes his head in return.

“This is a buttercup, if you hold it under your chin and your chin is yellow it means you like butter” he gasps in return and lets his mother hold it under his chin.

“Oh, looks like someone likes butter” she teases and lightly tickles his tummy. He giggles in response before chuckling out, “now you try mama!”

She hums and holds it under her chin with a smile, the buttercup glowing a yellow hue under her chin, “is my chin yellow”

He gasps and nods, like this is some sort of witchcraft he’s never seen before.

“Let’s go see if your dad likes butter” Mark cheers as she lets him down, holding the buttercup as his tiny legs run to his dad.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Do you remember that, mom? After that I have always picked you a buttercup or two on Mother’s Day until I was able to buy my own flowers. Always of a yellow variety though, it has to be in theme,” he chuckles weakly before talking again, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom”

Mark pressed a soft kiss to her temple, as tears dropped onto her pale skin. He pulls away, as he stares at her lifeless body. He can’t let go though, they haven’t had enough time together. They never got to go on a mother-son vacation, she will never see him have children, she will never get to even reach the age of 60. In his head, he hopes by some miracle she will gasp for air again, but he’s tried all he could. CPR didn’t even work but crushed her ribs.

He carried her over to the couch, hugging her close and he pulled a blanket over her. He doesn’t want her to get cold, she always hated the cold. Out during sunny days was what she loved. The yellow lilies, daffodils and buttercups were wilted on the floor, the water spilling, the vase shattered.

He runs a hand over her cheek, feeling her body slowly get cooler. He clenches his teeth, thinking of all the times she said I love you, and he wished he said them back. Or the times he would rush out of the house to play at a friend’s house and she looked disappointed that he didn’t stay to eat her cooking. Or when he would play with his dad more than her. What if she hates him for that? He’s sure hating himself right now for that.

He hums a tune to an old song they used to play in the car as he braids her hair. He knows she’s dead, even if he doesn’t want to accept it, but she deserves to look beautiful even after she lives.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama?”

Debbie turns, she hadn’t heard Mark use that name in a while. He looks in shock, on the verge of tears, and he wraps her in an almost crushing hug- literally.

“Mark?! What’s gotten into you? We had dinner together yesterday. Are you happy to see me?” She chuckles it off.

“Mom, oh god- I want you to know I love you, you mean the world to me. You raised me better than this” He rambles as his voice quivers, his eyes watering and ready to overflow.

“Mark? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I got you these”

He hands her a bouquet of lilies, daffodils and buttercups, with specks of dirt on them like he found them and pulled them from the dirt himself.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama…”

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