#cw asylum

[mitz-prompts]

prompt: will finds out why he never met his mom

In canon, Will seems to hold a lot of resentment for his absent mother. I'd love to see a story where he finds out mid-series that she never wanted to leave him but circumstances beyond her control forced her away from him. One possibility is that his mother was institutionalized for schizophrenia (straight up stealing from Criminal Minds here 😂) which could lead to some interesting tension if you wanted to have schizophrenia as an alternative explanation instead of his encephalitis. But that's far from the only possibility.

The key to this prompt is how losing that foundation of his story really sets his self-identity in flux. No longer can he claim that he was unwanted, no longer can he hold onto that brooding resentment like an old crutch. But it still hurts, and now he has no one to blame for the hurting, except maybe his father, but his father was only trying his best to do what he thought was right for Will. So what now? How does he conceptualize the lingering pain he feels if he can't blame anyone for it? And what does it mean for his relationships with other people, especially his relationships with women?

If this happens in season 1, and it's the schizophrenia explanation, there's a lot of opportunity to play with the edges of his sanity, and how it feels to belatedly find out that he was always a ticking time bomb. and the fear of losing himself, not knowing himself, not knowing what's real, etc.

But I'm even more interested in how this would play out if it happened during season 2. Will's doing his whole "fishing" thing with Hannibal, when his dad calls him out of the blue, and comes clean about nearly 40 years of half-truths. And this sudden new information from his personal life takes all the wind out of Will's sails re: catching the Ripper.

Maybe he shows up for his usual session with Hannibal, and Hannibal is smirking, prepared for their usual repartee. But Will just looks at him all bleary-eyed and says in a brittle voice, "Dr. Lecter, I really need you to set everything aside and be my psychiatrist for half an hour. Can you give me that courtesy?"

Hannibal tilts his head, and some of the old person suit slips over his features like a second skin, in a really eerie way that makes Will realize how honest Hannibal has been with him over the last few months. And Hannibal says, "Yes, of course, Will. What would you like to discuss?"

[writerofweird]

This mask will set you back at least $675 but at least there's Mad Hatter costumes - or at least costume accessories - trying to make him look like the gremlin he is in the original illustrations, even if the model is wearing Depp-inspired clothing.

This is the only other costume I can think of that tries something like this, but not only is there the whole ableist "strait-jacket = spoooooky", it's clearly copying the American McGee's Alice version (again, without the context that Wonderland has been warped by a stay in an oppressive Victorian asylum, the strait-jacket just comes off as ableist).

[horvival]

Outlast (2013)

[horygory]

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

[chinzhilla]

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

You think you can fucking quit on me?! Listen carefully. We have to finish this. Do you know how many views we have now?

곤지암 Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum (2018) dir. Jung Bum-shik

[leaflessfae]

The Harper brain worms are taking over

Pairing: M!Harper x F!pc

Content. MDNI. Noncon, kidnapping, jealous Harper, a sprinkle of yandere Harper, p in v, unprotected, sedated pc who's half-conscious, some hallucinations (I wanted to write more hypnotic stuff but that would've made this way longer so I'm holding back. For now.), tentacles but only for a liddol, fingering, (pc's cum) tasting, and hopefully that's it.

A/N. Snickering to myself as I write and lie 'Harper is a good doctor' kdkxksk

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"It's looking..." There's a sharp intake of air, then a click of a tongue before Harper is finally turning to you, what you assume to be your documents in his hands, "pretty bad."

A grave silence prevails over every corner of the room that seems to only tighten and suffocate you in its white walls. Harper stays silent for a few seconds, only running his eyes over your bewildered, yet concerned, countenance. "Wh... what's looking bad, doctor?" Eventually, you inquire, a brow raising skeptically, "I'm feeling okay?"

He breathes out, turning to set the documents on his desk and taking a moment to force his features to soften, to demolish every attempt of a smile coming out before he turns to you again, a frown drawing his brows together slightly. "Have you been taking any medications without my supervision lately?"

You have. "No, I haven't."

"Well, your tests say you have. You wouldn't lie to your doctor now, would you?" He shakes his head, "because that would be pretty disappointing."

His tone makes you visibly reel back in your seat, a grimace fighting its way to your face. "It's just painkillers." You lie through your teeth, keeping your head held high and alert. You've never taken a liking to the doctor standing before you; always has he given you unpleasant vibes that screamed at you to bolt out of his confined room of an office. You've trusted your guts at that time and changed your doctor, only to notice that something is very wrong with the way your body feels lately. Doctor Harper, very unfortunately, was actually good at his job (or so he appears), and so you reluctantly made your way back to him, only to remember why you changed doctors in the first place.

"Don't underestimate medicine, sweetheart. What have you been taking?"

You've fallen silent once again. All plans of actually fixing whatever the hell was up with your body thrown out the window; you just wanted to get out of here. And so you lie again. "Maybe the tests are wrong. I'm feeling totally fine, and I haven't been taking anything."

"You haven't been attending your weekly checkups." His hands are already dressing up in medical gloves, eyes aren't even on you as he scolds.

"I'm just busy."

"Busy changing doctors?" A final snap announces the gloves are in place as he glances up at you, gaze fixing you in place.

Your lips thin into a line, hands gripping the edge of the bed you're sat on. Harper sighs before you can retort back, shaking his head. "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed. Look at where you've gotten yourself." He shrugs his hand at you, gesturing to your body, "Now we gotta fix you up, don't we? You wouldn't have gotten into this in the first place were you to listen to me."

"I-I'm late for my shift, actually. Let's discuss this later?" You scramble to get off the bed once he starts approaching. "Next week–"

"No, you don't know how dire your situation is. We have to take action immediately."

You don't even think as you bolt for the door upon noticing a syringe filled and ready in his hand, your hands gripping the handle and harshly tugging. The door rattles in protest and refuses to budge, so you tug it again in case you didn't force it enough the first time, but it only meets your efforts with macabre immutability. When the hell did he lock–

"Trust me, darling, I'm not very happy about doing this either." You would've believed him if it weren't for his breath picking up, a foul grin stretching his lips. "I would've been able to detoxify your body with you conscious, but your test results are extremely alarming. I'm going to have to sedate you for this."

"No. I'm good!" With the door being completely out of the escaping picture, you resort to using what you always use in the streets. You swing your fist at his face once he's close enough, placing a great amount of strength in it; half of it induced by fear, and it works. Harper doesn't seem to expect your sudden attack as he stumbles back, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose. It buys you enough time to run to the windows, not caring if the jump would break your fucking legs.

But a surprisingly strong hand yanks you back by your shirt, sending you tumbling back and hitting his desk in the process. Harper lunges at you before you can lunge at him and wrestles you to the floor, seizing your wrists in a firm grip and sitting over your body, rendering you immobile. He was stronger than he looked, and it terrified you to think what he might also be in hidden sight.

"Stay put. You wouldn't want to hurt yourself further now, would you?" Harper's grin only widens as you struggle and writhe underneath him, blood smeared across his face and dripping on your skin. "I'm only trying to help you out."

"I would rather fucking die!" You spit, fiery eyes glaring and legs kicking– trying to kick.

Harper clicks his tongue several times in disappointment as if you were a child who needs to be disciplined. "Such foul words. You shouldn't say that to a doctor. It wounds them." He produces the syringe again, punctures your skin before you can scream in terror in hopes for someone to come running for your aid. "Shh...sh...I've got you." He's got his hand glued to your lower jaw to drown out every screech for help you could utter until your eyes grow impossibly heavy, body falling limp beneath him.

-

When you awaken, it's not at the hospital.

None of the bleak white walls and glaring lights greet you when you flutter your eyes open, head feeling heavy as ever as you struggle to make sense of what could've possibly happened. It's dim in the room, the only light being the street lamps filtering in through the window. It's– wait. Street lamps.

You would've jolted up in the realization that it's nighttime were your body functioning, but all you can feel is– nothing. You can't feel your legs. You can't feel your arms, your hands, your fingers. Panic settles in your veins, your heart palpitating faster with each passing second. You're quick to feel lightheaded with anxiety, heart drumming loudly in your ears. Where the fuck were you–

"You can't move, doll. Don't bother." A soft voice that could only belong to Harper rings out from beside you. Terror-stricken yet unable to move, your eyes flit to your side, and there he is. A gentle smile adorns his rather gentle features as he lays beside you. "Don't worry, it's going to wear off eventually. You're safe with me."

You're anything but safe with him. Your eyes can only follow his hand as he moves to toy with a strand of your hair, idly twirling it around his fingers before bringing it to his face, breathing in deeply then kissing it. He sits up, twisting around to grab a glass of water and a pill from the nightstand. "This will make you feel better."

You press your lips together at once, jaw clenching and refusing to open your mouth as he presses the pill to your lips. He frowns, pushes it further until it clashes against your teeth. "Yeah?" He says, before forcing your jaw open with a hand clenching the sides of your face. "Should I really teach you a lesson to listen to your doctor?" He forces the pill into your mouth before hurriedly holding the glass to his lips. Soon are his lips on yours, passing the water through his mouth and tipping your head in a way that would force you to swallow.

"There we go." He pulls away then immediately yanks at your skirt, pulling it all the way down your legs. Your panties are pushed to the side and, despite how dry you are, your pussy welcomes his finger. He only glides it along your folds, but you feel yourself getting weirdly wet way too quickly.

"Did you really think you could fool me?" He huffs, out of breath already even though he's barely touched you, a manic grin spreading his lips. He isn't even trying to hide it the way he usually does at your appointments. No. There's no need. Not when he has you all for himself, all docile and vulnerable for all his fantasies and wicked intentions. "Did you think I wouldn't notice when my favorite patient starts frequenting other doctors? You're so cute. So dumb."

Then he pushes his finger into you, and he moans at the sight, at the sensation of your warm cunt, and at how your pussy makes those adorable squelching sounds when he starts fucking his finger into you. An exhilarated laugh leaves him when you start making small whimpery noises, which only leads him to push another finger into you.

Whatever he made you swallow was taking a toll on your mind. Harper was starting to look blurry, hazy, and even a bit disoriented. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision but only starting to see something taking shape around him. "Mmh.." You blabber as if to alert him, but he only chuckles in that frightening tone of his.

"What's that, darling? I can't understand you."

"Mnngh..." another trial that only proves your tongue to be too heavy to form actual words. Harper suddenly fingers you faster, forcing moans out of you, and then you feel it. Slimy and wet and sticky, sliding across your legs and all the way to your thighs, slipping under your shirt and caressing your tummy. Your breath shakes, both from Harper's assault and fear. Blobs, thick and thin, taking multiple shapes and sizes, vaguely resembling tentacles, surround you.

You feel them getting closer to where Harper is coaxing fluids out of you. You feel them circle your nipples and latch onto them. You feel them snake around your thighs and spread them further, or that might be you gaining some control in the sense that you can slightly move your body, just not upon your conscious command.

With a strained voice, you whimper, both scared and on the very edge of climaxing. You don't know if you want to push him away - if you had the strength - or to hold onto him in fear of the tentacles. "H-Ha..pa.."

"That's my name."

Then you're gushing around his fingers, pussy squeezing them so delightedly and covering them in your sweet sweet slick. "Oh yes– fuck, fuck yes. Squeeze my fingers like that!" Harper might be hyperventilating with the way he pants, his usual self-control nowhere to be found as he hastens to pull his hard cock out of his pants, his hand wrapping around it and pumping in time with the clenching of your walls.

"Sweet doll." He withdraws his fingers at last, laughing as he presses them together only to spread them apart, watching your slick form sticky threads between them. He brings his fingers close to his mouth, lolling out his tongue and moaning loudly as he twirls it around them before sucking them completely into his mouth.

He takes his time tasting you, savoring every drop with a moan, not bothering to hide how hard he's getting and how his flushed tip leaks precum on your thigh. Meanwhile, you're fighting the urge to cry, to wail as something else plays with your slit. Slimy and thin and you feel it fluttering around your twitching hole. Harper doesn't react to it, as if it's not even there, but you can very clearly feel it. It must be there!

"Mm, so..." Harper says, finally letting his fingers out and giving them a last lick, "so sweet. Here. Taste yourself." His fingers dip into your cunt so suddenly it makes you jolt a bit, and he gathers your cum and slick before it's pushed into your mouth. "See? You taste good."

He doesn't stop there. Toys with your tongue like it's his right, feeling the warm muscle beneath his fingertips, not taking his fingers out until he's sure you've cleaned them of your cum, and covered them instead with your saliva. Harper is entranced as he watches you as if he's the one under the influence; his eyes are half-lidded as they drink you in, and his lips are slightly open, face so flushed and tinted deep red.

His hands grip your hips and he drags you closer to him, his cock nudges at your entrance and suddenly the tentacles that were invading your vision disappear. You gasp, blinking up at the ceiling then at him in confusion, and he smiles so wide when he sees your gaze on him, his ears flushing redder than they already were.

"I'm gonna make you feel good," whispers as he holds your panties to the side and slides in, feeding his cock into your tight slippery hole, his jaw falling slack and eyes rolling back, throat rumbling with a long "fuuuuck..."

He pulls you up, cradling your body against his as he bottoms out. "So– shit, so much better than I imagined."

Harper is up in a second, lifting you with him by his hands that dig into the plush of your ass. "I've always wanted to try this," he whispers before you're lifted until only his tip is snug inside you, then brought down until he's fully enveloped again, cock hitting so deep in your cunt. "Fuck– ah, h-hold onto m– right, you can't." He laughs out of breath, then you're slammed against a wall, weight distributed between him and the cold wall against your back.

He lets one hand move up to shrug your arms around his neck, telling you to be good and try to keep them there. "You can do that, no? Some of that strength must be back by now." He whispers in your ear before he's drilling into you, moaning loudly directly in your ears, even drowning out your own moans with his. "You– have no idea how much I waited for this."

He kisses you, tongue first, licking into your open mouth and groaning with wild abundance. Harper never falters in his thrusts and never makes you feel as if you're about to fall, his grip firm and stronger than you thought him to be. He bites your lower lip as he pulls away then smiles at you. "Do you know how hard it was to hold back? To stop at a few invasive touches but never go far enough to satisfy?"

He angles his hips, hitting spots you didn't know would send you squealing. "To see your cute little ass trot into my office, to sit so fucking prettily, and to talk my ear off about worthless scums trying to get a piece of you when all I can think about is how pretty you'd be split on my dick?"

He slithers his hands from your ass and to the back of your thighs, holding you by them and spreading you open, his gaze falling down to where his cock disappears again and again, getting sucked so hungrily by your greedy cunt. "F-fucking hell. Look at you taking me so well! I knew you could take it."

But then his tone changes, and his thrusts turn harsher, rougher without the usual care he carries. "But then you go off and think you can avoid me by seeing another doctor." He hisses, eyes blown with infatuation yet frustration, "It's okay. Hah, it's okay. You'll always come back to me. I'll make sure of it."

It's only then that you notice. That your eyes focus a bit and zero in on the stains on his shirt. Some of them are brown and dry, but the fresher ones– the fresher ones are tinted crimson, spread about chaotically as if something was squirted messily and splattered his shirt. Harper notices your gaze and laughs, loud and breathless.

"I did it for you. " He stutters and plunges deep within you, pressing into your body as close as possible while his seed splutters your insides, pumping you full of his cum as you moan and follow very close behind, clenching around him and milking him of every drop he's worth. Harper holds you against the wall for a while, until both of you almost catch your breaths.

Your eyes barely stay open as your head lays on his shoulder, more exhausted than you originally were. This time, you notice a small card on the nightstand. Your heart suddenly picks up again when you focus on it, recognizing the bloodied ID as the doctor's you frequented a few times, confirming your suspicions.

Harper seems to know that you're looking directly at it, and he smiles. "I told you I'll make sure of it."

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A/N. Once my writing skills evolve and I can write mind break (and be satisfied with it) it's over for yall

[ignitedarcadia]

Miles Upshur and his no good, very bad day.

Day 24: In the Madness🩸👻

🕷️ Goretober 2024

[kreachvera]

LOVELY DOCTOR FAUST !!

[hussyknee]

Pitchbot Hall of Fame tweet 💀💀

(alt included)

[somebodytolove31]

I have never been to a psychiatric ward or a mental hospital in general (outside of therapy sessions) but it bugs the hell out of me that like 9 out of 10 of the people I know who went to one come out with more trauma and problems, like idk about you but if I went to a place where I was meant to get better from my mental issues and I came out with more of them I would sue. Why is this allowed

[90scully]

GONJIAM: HAUNTED ASYLUM (2018) dir. Jung Bum-Shik

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

asylum outtakes: drinking the psychedelic plasma has done wonders for vlad's social life (if not his wardrobe...)

See, Vlad? All you need to do was drink from POSSESSED Ted Roswell in order to be instantly palatable to people, even big bad Wildfangs alpha (and sworn enemy) Rory Oaklow.

Also if everyone otherwise being wholesome and minding their own business, only to cut to someone offering Lilac some 'fruit' (or vice versa) in the background, isn't this entire save file summarized in 20 seconds or less, then I don't know what is 🤭

[horvival]

Outlast (2013)

[wisteriasymphony]

any more asylum au perhaps 👉👈😎

CW: Physical and Verbal Abuse, Arson

FALL 1993

Adrien was held still by two of his former bodyguards—Laurent and DuPont, if he remembered correctly. Laurent always had his blonde hair shaved to the skin, whereas DuPont's was thickly braided. Such distinctions weren't helpful at the moment, of course. Any two of Gabriel's men would be restraining him the same. It's what they were always paid to do.

"Sixteen—Almost seventeen years' worth of work. Seventeen years!" Gabriel shouted, his gargoylish face contorted into a thousand graying wrinkles. "Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? Do you know the hours, the months of work I have slaved to put you where you are. —And this is what you choose to do with your life?! Getting high and fucking whoever you find sitting on the street corner?"

Adrien opened his mouth to protest—more just for protest's sake than because he had anything on his mind to speak—only for Gabriel to backhand him so hard the sound could surely be heard from outside. Even as Adrien staggered, he was forced upright by the guards, kept in a jawlike grip by his forearms, held just low enough that he couldn't stand, only bend at the knees to get even a semblance of bearing.

"Well I'm through with it," Gabriel spat. "I am through with your delinquency. I don't care where the hell they send you—" Gabriel extended a gnarled, pale finger to point at his son. "—But I will ensure you spend the rest of your life thinking about what you have cost me with this stunt of yours. And when I can finally drag you back out, you should be nothing but thankful that I had the mercy to not kill you, and her, where you fucking stand."

It was supposed to be so easy. It was supposed to be so easy. Adrien knew how to bypass the limits on his cards, Adrien knew every place in the manor to hide from the security cameras. He had bought plane tickets, stolen his passport, and had just enough money hidden in his mattress to not have to worry for two months out of the city, maybe more. It was supposed to be so easy, he was supposed to finally be safe.

Adrien hadn't a single desire to ever see Gabriel's face ever again. Now, confronted with it—varicose and gaunt and furious—what was there for him to do? What option did he have left?

...The option he took had left him at the doorstep of Hospital Sainte-Marie-de-Dieu with a plastic muzzle over his face.

SPRING 1995

Adrien looked up at the billboard, the acrid smell of burning vinyl filling his nose. If there was anything he was still good at in life, now that following orders (and later, drinking) were both entirely off the table, it was his penchant to set stuff on fire. Even when he still had some semblance of good left in him, Adrien remembered taking a large magnifying glass out into the garden to fry holes in blades of grass. This was basically the same thing, minus the gasoline and matches.

It was maybe two miles ago that he'd found a pair of glasses, their cracked lenses tugging a ray from the headlights of the stolen car and getting Adrien to stop. That was probably the benefit of these gone-to-shit roads in the middle of nowhere: Being able to just stop and see what people had left. Adrien had put on the glasses for the time being, but was just as willing to throw them away once he tired of them. They weren't worth much, anyways. The frame was warped and barely sat on his face right.

The fire had eaten up nearly half of the billboard by this point, and it was just starting to melt Adrien's face off—the one on the vinyl, that is. He remembered posing for it a few years ago, selling some perfume that was basically the same goddamn thing in yet another glass bottle. It was nice to see the thing go up in smoke.

Marinette stood a few feet away, the orange glow of the fire throwing itself at her face. She didn't talk much, to the point where Adrien assumed she was likely mute. Her big brown eyes did enough of the talking for her—a look for "You're stupid", another for "Stop driving so fast". As weird as it felt to say for someone so much shorter and quieter than him, somewhere he held respect for her muteness. Maybe envy, too. A jealous respect.

...There wasn't much more to see from the fire. Only scraps of nauseous-smelling vinyl floating down like leaves of hell, glossy embers of tar-black only coming into view here or there when something other than the dark sky was behind them. Most small enough to maybe inhale. Adrien reached in through the broken window of the car to open the driver-side door again. "Come on." Marinette's shadow made its way to the car, stretched long by the light of the burning billboard.

(I started this Aug 31st what the fuckkkkk why'd it TAKE so long)

[bepoucorp]

Batman: Arkham Asylum gifs (wholesome)

[teturelira]

My Wonderland is shattered. It’s dead to me.