#also i think that my spike in psychotic symptoms was just due to stress from other issues i was going through (ocd and my break up)

[calpalsworld]

hearing pop music on the radio gave me anxiety because it made me feel like i was working at my previous job (meijer) and it occured to me that hmmm maybe the jobs i worked before my current job were not good jobs

[fantroll-purgatory]

World: Alternia

Name: Erenyx Erixck (Try saying that 3 times fast)

Age: 8 sweeps

Theme/Story: Since her hatching, Erenyx has been very intelligent. Unfortunately, she’s also batshit crazy. Erenyx gives off an aura of “not quite there”, often randomly staring off into the distance and generally acting weird. She’s very into hypnosis and mind control, trying to command lower blooded trolls with varying methods and success. 

Local Mod With Psychotic Symptoms Here: Please Stop Making Characters Whose Entire Gimmick Is “Not Being All There.” I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, but I want to teach you how to be a stronger writer. It’s not as scary or edgy as you think it is and it is 100% of the time more of a stressor for the person who has the condition than for anyone else. 

People who are most often stigmatized with the “““batshit crazy”““ label don’t want to harm others and experience significantly higher rates of violence directed towards than the general population because of stereotypes like these! Staring off into the distance and “acting weird” aren’t villainous traits. They’re just how people are sometimes. The “crazy genius” is a strung out trope that’s just shorthand so you can get away with not writing character motivation! We’re gonna dissect your girl like a frog specimen and take out her tender Character Traits to build her back better. Bionic frog. 

So to give you a stronger starting base here: If you want a troll to be a bad person, make them a bad person. It’s so much more interesting than them being randomly “crazy” and wacky. Make them malicious, and not because they’re ~not all there~. We’re gonna call New “Bionic Frog” Erenyx a bastard because she thinks she’s better than other people. She was born with strong psionics and she thinks that means she’s a cut above the rest, she thinks they should respect her and like her, and that’s why she wants to control others. 

(Cosigned as another mod with psychotic symptoms like… it’s not a great look. Also: Everyone on Alternia is terrible for the most part. It was DESIGNED that way in-universe. It’s a planet of hormonal teenagers who are encouraged to murder their friends and neighbors for kicks. You don’t need a “batshit crazy” smokescreen to just write a terrible fantroll. Vriska already exists, and she doesn’t have anything like that.)

Goals: Due to her, let’s say, interesting personality, Erenyx has no friends. So, she reasons, why not hypnotize lowbloods to become her friends? (I thiiiiink you misread my section on Goals: These are for you and us, not your fantroll’s ambitions (though nice information to have). I’m going to do this as a general review in lieu of anything specific.)

Strife Specibus: Yoyokind. It’s got a swirly pattern and spikes, naturally.

Fetch Modus: I never bother to think these up, it’s more trouble than it’s worth honestly. (Lowkey agree with you there- I’m horrendous with these. I do think something to help flesh out this spiral motif might be fun? Impressionism, maybe? Some late-Picasso looking art and she’s gotta find the items in it?)

She could also have to solve a maze or labyrinth to get out. Or you could go with something that plays on the Cobra angle and do a snake charmer joke with her playing a pungi. 

Blood Color: Gold

Symbol: Actually, I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know why, I just never get round to it.

You could probably rip a symmetric chunk for a pattern like this and have a pretty good gold symbol on your hands.

Handle: mesmerisingOptics [MO]

Quirk: Undecided

If she loves to seem purposefully confusing, you could mix up her words. Organize her sentences in a way that people usually don’t. The best example I can think of this is… I used to follow this RP blog a while back, amusedmuralist, and the way sentences are structured here is what I’m thinking. “Waste your lowly selves not the time allotted you.” 

A generally ‘better than thou’ attitude and insults/put downs can go a long way, too. 

Special Abilities: Various methods of hypnosis, most of which aren’t very good.

Lusus/Guardian: Cobra Lusus

I do like this a Lot but what about . Kaa. She could face the common troll problem of having a lusus that needs to eat other trolls, and she needs to trap them to feed her snakemom before her snakemom gets hungry and turns on her! 

Personality: As stated above, she’s not exactly the most sane troll on the block. Likes to dish out weird threats to innocent passerby and giggle to herself for no reason. Likes spirals. (This is barely even window dressing on a personality- you’ve made her theoretical, stereotypical mental illness her whole character. You’re overcommitting to a pretty bad gimmick, to be frank.) (To quote the EZ Gold Signs: “Gold Signs are interested in a wide variety of topics, so they tend to be Jacks-of-all-trade, and can have trouble dedicating themselves to just a single hobby or career. They have a tendency to be high-energy, and can stress people out, including themselves.” This may be a good place to start for a character like this.)

And as I’ve said above, she believes she’s a cut above the rest. She could be a little on the cruel or at least inconsiderate side, a better-than-you type. She could look down on other blood colors and the like. Another gold fact from the EZ is that golds love The Hustle, they like making bank. You could play on a manipulation and control angle and instead of relying on a bad mental illness stereotype, make her an extortionist playing mental health professional? Come to her Hypnosis Clinic, she’ll definitely help you get a good night’s sleep/work through your trauma/cut that chalk eating habit! [Fails to brainwash you] 

Interests: Hypnosis, obviously, and other methods of controlling people. Spirals, swirls, other similar things. (You say Spirals and my first thought is early game Uzumaki. Maybe she has an interest in strange art? Really underground, indie shit that the Highbloods would NEVER see as equal to their epic sculptures and Clowns and stuff.)

Actually, I want to step a layer deeper here. What are spirals traditionally associated with in homestuck? C h e r u b s. And what is there evidence of on Alternia? Giant Snake (Cherub) Corpses. And given that the purples worship the merciful messiahs, I’d be unsurprised if spirals actually featured rather heavily in Clown Church Religion. Erenyx could have an interest in art history on top of an interest in modern perplexing imagery. She could be interested in finding the deeper meanings. She could think that she, in all her GENIUS WISDOM, understands this art and the meaning behind it better than anyone else and that she’s unlocked some hidden truth that means she deserves to be in charge. 

It could also be a sparking point for her interest in hypnosis- maybe her psionics don’t actually lend themselves well to mindcontrol, but she’s trying to jack into whatever force allows purplebloods to Chucklevoodoo.  

Lunar Sway: See symbol.

She’s a prospitan if I’ve ever seen one. 

Title: See lunar sway. (I think if hypnosis is her game, she’s probably a Heart/Mind inversion player. Actively messing with people’s brains, passively messing with their souls and identities.)

Yeah, cheesy as it is, I’d rule her as thief of mind. Or witch. One of those. 

And design corner time: 

Hair: I cannot believe you gave me a spiral character and didn’t give her SWIRLS. I had to just embiggen the hair a little more. Big hair on alternia is associated with the Condesce and thus power, so having a big spirally mess of it? Screams Better Than You. 

Face: I adjusted her mouth’s position mildly and changed the glasses to cherub colors as a reference to that cherub comment I made up there, but you could change them out for any appropriate themeatic colors- she didn’t have any Accents before! 

Outfit: I changed her outline and sweater color to go for something lighter, so the hair would stand out from it better. I added a conceptual symbol for her! Golds don’t wear patterns, so her socks are solid yellow now. I also fixed up her shoes by bringing in tavros’ sandals to edit. You don’t need to draw out individual toes on a sprite form wearing shoes, or else the area gets visually complicated! 

Other than that I love this design a lot. 

[ezmisery]

The White Dog of McClean Maternity Ward

It was impossible to work on the ward without hearing about The White Dog. The rumor traveled as if it were an animal itself, walking from person to person with a sullen limp. Rumblings would start from the patients, then move to the orderlies, and finally the medical staff. And once the patients were off the maternity ward they brought news of the dog to the general population. It was unruly. Embarrassing, really. But we had no control of it.

I had been working at McClean for over five years. It was a job I thoroughly enjoyed. As a psychiatrist, I knew I wanted to work with the patients most in need. And I couldn’t think of anywhere more in need than McClean Mental Hospital.

We housed a diverse group of the mentally ill. From the light-end of the spectrum, where patients only visited once a month, to the deranged and violent inmates we housed 24/7. I began my career in the eating disorder ward. At first I was slightly unnerved by the ribs protruding like tree branches. The patients were walking skeletons. One slipped on a wet floor and broke nearly all her bones as if she were an elderly woman. I spent two years there, working non-stop on food plans and boosting self-esteem.

It lost its appeal pretty quickly. I got bored of doing and saying the same things over and over. I stopped feeling like I was making a difference. Sure, my patients needed me. But their problems were so benign.

Eventually I moved to Ward 6. This was the ward for the ‘worst’ of society. These were the patients who were admitted without their consent, most likely due to a violent outburst or self-harm incident. I balanced a caseload of forty three people. During my time in this ward I was bit, punched, tackled, and vomited on. But I loved it. Being able to reach out to those who could barely function…it was thrilling. My heart beat faster every time we had an incident.

But even with these dangerous patients I lost interest. It became monotonous to try and help them only to see no progress. These people were beyond help. I felt like I was wasting my time with them.

I’m not sure exactly why I transferred to the maternity ward in particular. Well, if I’m being honest, it was because I thought it might be more exciting. The patients I worked with were messed up, sure, but adding a baby to all that crazy would make things even more stimulating. I’ve always had a bad habit of wanting as much drama in my life as possible. Plus the extra pay didn’t deter me either.

But this isn’t the point. I am trying to write about the White Dog. My first run-in with the legend came from a woman in Ward 6. Marlene. I met with her weekly for treatment just like the other patients. She was completely unresponsive to any form of questioning. The hour would be spent asking questions that received silent answers. I figured she was too medicated so I lowered her dose of anti-psychotics. The next session she remained quiet, but more afraid than before.

“How is the new dose feeling?” I asked her.

She didn’t respond. I resisted sighing in frustration.

“I thought today we could go over some things in your file. You’ve been with us almost three years. And I see before Ward 6 you were on the maternity ward-”

“Don’t put me back there,” Marlene cried out suddenly. “He’ll come for me. He’ll come back. He follows. He takes.”

My curiosity spiked, I lay down my notebook. “It is good to hear your voice.”

“Please, no. He is so cold. Cold.” She drew her knees up to her chest and began to rock back and forth.

“Who are you speaking of, Marlene?” I leaned a little closer.

Tears sprouted from her squinted eyes. The color left her skin. “The White Dog,” she whispered. Suddenly she slapped herself in the face and then pulled her earlobe so hard it split. I was used to violent outbursts so I called an orderly and we dealt with the situation quickly.

I wrote the incident off as a symptom of her psychosis. Making up stories can help patients cope with stress or trauma. Marlene had lost the child she was carrying when she was in the maternity ward, so it made sense for her to imagine some sort of monster to explain the loss. I mentioned it briefly to another psychiatrist, Doug, during a meeting and he laughed. The reaction was so strange I pressed him on it.

“You’ve never heard of the ‘White Dog of McClean’?” He grinned. “It’s our own personal urban legend.” Doug split his time between maternity and Ward 6, so I listened closely.

“I figured it was just something she made up.”

“No, the patients have created an entire monster story for this thing.” He chuckled. Doug was an easy going guy; perhaps too much so. He didn’t take his job very seriously. “Supposedly there is a white dog that haunts the maternity ward. It prowls from room to room, ripping babies out of the patients and then swallowing them. And if he isn’t satisfied with the infants, he’ll go after the women too. They say he’s almost as tall as a man with fur so white it looks cold to touch.” He locked eyes with me for a moment before breaking away in laughter. “It’s all bullshit. Just a story the patients tell themselves. Don’t worry about it.”

But I did worry about it. I didn’t think it was real, obviously. But the effects of a common psychosis were fascinating. If what Doug said was true, multiple women had the same delusion. It was passed back and forth like a virus. Now that I’m writing this down and thinking on it, maybe the Dog was the reason I transferred wards after all.

Whatever brought me there, even on my first day I could see the effects of the legend. Patients begged to be moved to a different ward. They never wanted to be alone. At night the women would scream with fear at any noise. Most had to be restrained to avoid serious injury to themselves. My first few days on the job were shrouded in chaos. Orderlies ran after women with giant stomachs. The nurses were jaded, handing out medicine with barely a look. Doug was the only other psychiatrist on the ward so we did most of the heavy lifting.

I had seventeen women on my caseload. It nothing compared to my previous work. I saw the patients for some light therapy and med changes. A lot of them had to be taken off the heavy stuff due to the baby. Weirdly enough, all of the women came from Ward 6, where I had worked previously. One patients stood out to me – Lou.

Lou was barely eighteen. She was thin as a rail but could do a lot of damage to herself. She had lived at McClean for almost her entire life. In recent years, she had made immense progress. Her habit of cutting was almost completely cured. She spoke positivity about getting a job and living on her own. We were all quite proud of her.

I sat down with her and saw a completely different person. Not only had she resorted back to self-harm (as evidenced by her fresh scars) but she was also making no sense.

“Lou,” I said softly, “You need to slow down and tell me what’s going on.”

“He wants the baby so bad he’s going to take it before it’s ready chew the head like a lollipop pop pop pop chew spit pop.” She stared deep into my eyes as she spouted this nonsense.

“Who? Who wants the baby?”

“The Dog. Pop pop split bleed bite the tiny skull until it breaks breaks breaks breaks breaks.” I could tell she was trying to tell me something important.

“Lou, I don’t understand you. Can you go slower?”

“Slow is death slow gets you caught against a wall hurt up up rip sh sh sh you’ll wake the baby.” Her hands were twitching.

I moved closer to her. “No one will hurt you, Lou. You are safe here.”

She leaned in, her voice a bit quieter. “The Dog hunts when the swans are asleep and the people pretend he is one of them.” She spit violently onto my cheek. “She’ll die she’ll die she’ll die she’ll die!”

“Who?” I wiped her saliva off my face.

For the first time she stopped and said something coherent. “My baby. He’s going to kill her tonight.”

I was scared Lou would try and abort her child, so I put in the order to have her restrained until the morning. I went about the rest of my duties and left for the night. The next morning Lou was dead. Her child’s heart had stopped beating. Her stomach was severely bruised and one of her hands was sliced open. There was no explanation as to how any of this happened.

I was thrilled. Not because she died, obviously. But because it was such a mystery. The psychosis was so strong she broke out of her restraints and literally ended her life. I vowed that I would spend the next night in the ward to see if anything like this could be replicated. And prevented, of course.

I made space in the day to see every one of my patients. None of them seemed surprised about Lou. “It was her turn,” Jade told me in her deep, depressive voice. “The Dog was hungry.”

“Whose turn is it tonight?” I could barely contain my excitement.

“Oh doctor. It’s mine.” She rubbed her hands over her belly. “Can’t you see how ripe I am? How delicious I’ll taste? I’ve been asking to get out of this ward since the damn thing was put in me. But I’ve accepted it. I am his now. At least I won’t be afraid anymore.”

I made sure Jade would be restrained and decided I would monitor her room that night. She was the only patient who said the Dog would hurt her. I left her door open and sat in the doorway, her file in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

The night began as usual. Some of the women screamed to be let go. Jade fell asleep without incident. As the darkness stretched on I revisited her file. She had murdered her husband because she believed he was inhabited by the devil. Sent to Ward 6 when she was 28. She was there for two years before transferring to the maternity ward.

I had to reread that twice. Two years in Ward 6 before being transferred…so she had to have gotten pregnant in the hospital. But the patients were segregated by gender. She never should have come in contact with a male patient at all.

That’s when things began to crumble. All of the women here were from Ward 6. All of them had to have gotten pregnant inside the facility. But how? I ran back to my office and scoured the records. Lou had lived her entire life in gender segregation. How could she have gotten pregnant? How could any of these women?

Slowly I walked back to Jade’s room in complete confusion. The hall was cold. Everyone had gone completely quiet. Jade’s open door swung in the non-existent wind. “Hello,” I called out, the hairs on my neck standing up.

A howl sounded from inside her room. Believing it was Jade, I ran through the entryway only to stop suddenly in my tracks. Standing in her room was a huge white dog. It was almost six foot tall. Its fur was ice white. It had two wounds on either side of its body. Hanging from the wounds were unborn dog fetuses. Streaks of red bloodied its teeth. It looked at me with dead, yellow eyes.

I slowly backed up but the thing growled at me. It wanted me to watch. Carefully it stood on its back two legs and hovered over Jade’s body. It bit down on her stomach. The bones made a sickening pop. Jade awoke and began to scream. The Dog ripped at her throat, leaving her voiceless and gurgling. It then turned to me. I was breathing heavily. The room seemed to be spinning. It slowly approached me. I swear I heard it laughing. It lunged at me and I fell backward, hitting my head and passing out.

…

I don’t work at McClean anymore. After that night I couldn’t bring myself to go visit that cursed building. My logical brain tells me that what I saw wasn’t real. Doug said maybe I had too much coffee. But whatever I saw still lives in my brain. I don’t know how many women died on that ward. I try not to think about it. I was an over-eager idiot who thought I could cure something real. It was real. Logic be damned it was real.

All I know is that if I stayed in that job, I would have ended up just as crazy as my patients.