#in terms of aggressive paranoia at least

[anarkhebringer]

Me and my goth girlfriend getting ready to beat the shit out of the cults that made us who we are

[angelinaheartshapedbox]

morbid attraction

Ethan Landry x reader

AU where Stu Macher has an illegitimate child. During Scream 6.

summary: Y/n is a freshman at Blackmore University. They're currently pursuing a bachelor's degree in forensic science to become an autopsy technician. To further their research, and to make money, they pick up shifts as a mortuary assistant. Y/n must come to terms with the trauma of gruesome murders of their hometown, copes with the memories of their ex girlfriend Amber Freeman, and with the fact that their father was a homicidal maniac. Running doesn't get them far from their past as it chases after them into New York City. But maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel. And maybe, just maybe, the light is Ethan Landry.

!!WARNINGS!! graphic descriptions of gore and violence, PTSD, and dealing with trauma. Major content warnings will be placed before each chapter.

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Voicemail (1)

Unknown Caller

Wordcount: 1.5k

Content warnings: blood, violence, drinking, vomit, paranoia

It always starts the same.

I’m back in my father's house, walking up the stairs with a bloodied knife in hand. I look at my feet tracking blood up the stairs, staining the carpet crimson. When I peak over the railing I see bodies littering the floor. A soft thud startles me and I face forward, met with another body at the top of the stairs. Her lower half is still in the room she fell from, her upper body in view.

It's my mother. Her face spattered with blood, her own. She's gripping at the carpet, pulling herself away from the door frame. The farther she crawls the more blood I can see. Her eyes are almost lifeless as I make contact with them. She wheezes my name as she's aggressively dragged back into the room.

“Mom!” I shriek, running the rest of the way up the stairs and into the room.

My mother is again on the floor, a figure standing over her. I can't even make a sound as a blade is plunged into the center of her forehead and she lays still.

The figure faces me, light from the hallway shining on his bloodstained face. It's Stu Macher. The man that makes up the other half of my DNA. He's not my dad, he's not my father.

“Can't your old man at least get a hug?” He asks, arms widespread. He drops his knife.

I stumbled towards him, stepping over my mother's lifeless corpse. I look at him in his soulless eyes.

“Fuck you” I mutter.

The kitchen knife I'm carrying meets his abdomen, twisting as I push it deeper. Stu spits blood onto my face. I kick him to the ground and straddle his waist.

I repeatedly stab him. First in his chest and stomach, then his face. I stab him and scream and cry. I scream, “Fuck you!” Over and over. I stab his face until I can no longer breathe and his features are unrecognizable. His face is nothing but a bloody pulp.

I breathe heavily, hot tears streaming down. Before I can do anything else I'm startled by my phone ringing.

“Unknown Caller.”

“Hello?” I answer.

“Your daddy's so proud of you” the distorted Ghostface voice echoes into my ear.

My body jolts up in my bed. My phone is ringing on my nightstand.

“That fucking dream” I whisper, rubbing my hand over my face. No blood, no tears.

I pick up my phone, the called ID says “Unknown Caller”. My body stiffens, I feel my heart rate rise. I take a deep breath and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/n, can you come pick me up?”

“Tara? What the fuck? Where are you calling from?” I ask, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

“My fucking phone died, I’m on a payphone. I’m coming from Chad's and I miss the bus and- can you come get me? Please?” Tara's voice sounded frustrated.

I sighed, “Uh, yeah, I'm on my way. Just, uh, meet me outside the library.”

Tara sat in the passenger seat of my 2016 Toyota Camry. I quietly drove us to our apartment building. Even though it was 2am, the streets of New York were as busy as ever. It's a completely different world compared to Woodsboro. Sometimes I miss the quiet.

“You okay?” Tara questions, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, why?”

“You like sick or something,” she tells me.

I laughed, “Well, yeah, Tara it's 2 o'clock in morning. I’m tired.”

“Right,” she nods.

We pull into my parking space at our building and get out of the car. The elevator ride is quiet and we make our way to the apartment. I unlock the door and head straight to my room. I whisper a “goodnight” to Tara before I shut my door.

The next day, I woke up around noon. I don't have any classes or work, so really I didn't even have to wake up. I was going to a party later though, so I figured getting up was a good choice.

When I enter our living room I immediately see my dog, snoring incredibly loud. When we moved here I convinced Sam that getting a big dog would be a good safety precaution. So now I have a huge pitbull, technically an American Staffordshire terrier, that's more anxious than I am. His name is Lucifer, I call him LuLu.

I sit on the couch next to him and hug him, “Good morning, my Lu.”

Almost instantly, Lucifer’s tail starts moving at speeds unknown to man. He smacks my face with force. I give him a kiss on the nose before leaving to feed the cats their breakfast.

I brought my cats Samara and Phantom with me from Woodsboro. They were screaming at me from the counter to feed them. Samara is a slim Siamese cat with bright blue eyes, and Phantom is a big black and white manecoon. His face is split half white-half black, which is why his name is Phantom.

After feeding the cats and doing some other housekeeping stuff, I sat down next to Lucifer again and started on some homework for anatomy. I sat on the couch for hours. I put in Saw for background noise. I got through two of the movies, then Tara came home. Then Quinn did. We sat together and kept watching the franchise.

“Gross” Quinn would comment about every 10 minutes.

I’m still a horror movie enthusiast after everything that happened. It almost makes me feel better, how totally wrong some things about them are. I’ve never watched Stab, though.

“What time is it?” I asked Tara.

She peaked at her phone, “7.”

“Fuck, already? We should get ready if you're going to that party.”

Tara stood up, “I’m calling the shower.”

“Tara!”

Around two hours later and we're walking the streets of New York to get to the Omega Kappa Beta house. We're not alone, we have a few friends with us. We didn't know them super well, but Chad and Mindy were waiting for us at the party.

“Hey, Tara!” Some guy yells.

Tara stops to talk to him. He asks about Sam and the party. I just stand behind Tara and stare at him. He seems weird, but we move on.

My heart beats faster as someone in a Ghostface costume walks towards us. I instinctively reach for my pocket knife. They passed without even glancing at us.

“Chill out” Tara tried to help me.

I sigh, “You're right. Let's get fucked up.”

I’m about two drinks in and I'm talking to everyone. Nothing mattered, I wasn't scared. I spotted Chad and his roommate, so obviously I make my way towards them.

They're doing some weird shit with eachother. Chad says something then they both take a shot. I watch Ethan spit it back into the shot glass.

Chad calls out to a girl, “My friend here, he's a snack right?”

The girl smiled awkwardly, “Eh.”

“Oh, most definitely” I say, approaching them.

Ethan looks behind him to see me standing there, he smiles. He's wearing an awfully made robot costume I think. It's just cardboard.

“See? Sexy Freddy Krueger agrees” Chad referred to my costume.

“Just Freddy, it's only sexy ‘cause I'm wearing it” I laugh. I grabbed Ethan's bicep, “Let's dance.” I drag him away from Chad.

Ethan moves awkwardly to the Usher song playing, I laugh at him. I take his hands and try to make him move with me. He spins me like we're slow dancing.

“Did you just spin me to Usher?” I asked, giggling.

“Yes? No?” He responds, nervous.

I keep dancing and he sort of watches. He's unmoving and looks like an absolute loser. I decided to take him out of the huge crowd and go find Chad again.

When we find Chad he's talking to Frankie, who's trying to take Tara upstairs. Suddenly, I'm sober.

“What's going on? Tara, come here” I demanded.

“No, guys, I'm fine. I want to” Tara replies.

Then, Frankie grabs her arm and she falls. Chad pulls Frankie off the stairs and pushes him.

“Chad! Knock it off, dude!” I yell and Tara is telling them to stop.

They aren't listening. Sam then shows up, she separates the boys. Then promptly tases Frankie in the balls.

“Yeah, alright. Let's go” I say, grabbing Ethan again and leaving with my friends.

I silently walked behind Sam and Tara as they argued about everything. I figured if I didn't say anything Sam wouldn't lecture me too.

My phone rings, “Unknown Caller”. I let it ring. They call again. And I let it ring again.

A group of drunk girls passed us. One of them throws a drink at Sam. She calls her a murderer and Sam tries to fight back.

“You got a problem with me bitch!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I scream, throwing the nearly full can of beer I took from the party at the girl's head.

“You crazy bitch!” She yells, walking away.

My friends stare at me. I stare back. Things are quiet. My phone rings again.

I finally answer, “What the fuck you want, asshole?”

“Your daddy would be proud that you're a psycho. Just like him.”

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masterlist

[droctaviolovecraft]

TW: Violence/gore, animal harming, body horror

ANM-682: "Laughing Swine"

Danger Level: RHTL (Rural Horror Threat Level) 🌲 | Uncontained ❌️

Insalubrity Level: 40%

Lead Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Anomaly Type: Rural, predatory, bestial

Containment: ANM-682 is currently uncontrolled and highly dangerous. Due to its rural and remote nature, containment efforts are focused on monitoring rural areas in the Brazilian states of Minas Gerais, Bahia, and along the division between Piauí and Ceará. All reports of nocturnal attacks or sightings of giant pigs should be immediately investigated by the Elite Task Force "Foxhound" and the "Sewer Worms" Task Force, specialized in rural anomalies.

Local authorities and the public should be misled with stories of a dangerous escaped animal and should not approach or engage with ANM-682 under any circumstances. A network of Institute secret agents must be positioned in key villages and towns to track ANM-682’s movements and report any anomalies. Due to the difficulty of conventional tracking methods, a joint task force is working on developing a specialized tracking system based on pheromones.

If ANM-682 is found, personnel must maintain a distance of at least 200 meters and avoid all direct visual and auditory contact with the humanoid entity residing in ANM-682-1.

Description: ANM-682 consists of two distinct entities, identified as ANM-682-1 and ANM-682-2.

ANM-682-1 is a large, abnormally large pig, approximately 3 meters long and weighing over 1,200 kg. Its abdomen is crudely stitched with thick, rusted wire, indicating a recent and likely amateur attempt at surgery. ANM-682-1's skin is heavily scarred and discolored, displaying patches of necrotic tissue and purulent wounds, emitting a nauseating stench that can cause nausea and dizziness in those nearby.

The primary anomalous property of ANM-682-1 is its ability to sustain ANM-682-2, which resides within its abdominal cavity. ANM-682-1 appears to be in a constant state of distress, producing low, painful grunts interspersed with sharp squeals whenever ANM-682-2 is active. Despite its apparent suffering, ANM-682-1 is highly aggressive and will attack anyone approaching within a 50-meter radius, using its considerable bulk to trample, bite, or headbutt its targets.

ANM-682-2 is a human with severe physical disabilities, estimated to be in its late 30s, measuring approximately 1.50m. ANM-682-2 suffers from a multitude of chronic illnesses and physical deformities, including polio, genu recurvatum (backward-bent knees), and severe malnutrition. It is covered in scar tissue and old wounds, indicating long-term physical trauma.

ANM-682-2 is characterized by a continuous high-pitched laugh, similar to a pig's squeal, which it emits constantly while inside ANM-682-1. This laughter has a profound psychological effect on those who hear it, inducing severe anxiety, paranoia, and auditory hallucinations in exposed individuals. These symptoms usually escalate to full-blown psychosis if exposure exceeds 10 minutes.

During nighttime hours (between 21:00 and 04:00 local time), ANM-682-2 will exit ANM-682-1 through a large, torn cut in its abdomen. Covered in blood and organic fluids, ANM-682-2 will begin stalking rural communities, searching for human prey. It exhibits extreme agility and speed despite its physical disabilities, moving with an abnormally fluid and rapid gait, often running quadrupedally due to its bent knees.

ANM-682-2 is known to enter the homes of sleeping individuals, where it attacks them in their beds, targeting the limbs and facial features of its victims. ANM-682-2’s jaw is abnormally developed, capable of exerting immense pressure and chewing through bone and resistant organic material. This, combined with its resistance to damage, suggests a form of adaptation to its horrific dietary habits.

After consuming a sufficient amount of human flesh, ANM-682-2 will return to ANM-682-1 and forcibly re-enter its abdominal cavity. ANM-682-1 will then flee the scene, usually disappearing into densely forested or isolated areas.

Addendum 682-1: Incident Log

Incident 682-07-A:

Date: 08/23/2023

Location: Rural community near Montes Claros, Minas Gerais.

Description: Several reports of loud, animalistic laughter were received by local police over three nights. The following morning, the mutilated bodies of three farmers were discovered in their homes. The victims exhibited extensive trauma to the shoulders and face, consistent with ANM-682-2’s attack patterns. Surveillance footage captured ANM-682-2 entering one of the houses, but as usual, the image quality was too poor to provide useful identification. Agents on-site confirmed ANM-682's presence, and containment efforts were initiated.

Incident 682-09-B:

Date: 09/15/2023

Location: Surroundings of Bom Jesus do Piauí.

Description: A family of five was attacked in their sleep by ANM-682-2. The father, who survived the encounter, described ANM-682-2 as “the devil itself, with twisted legs, a mouth full of broken teeth, long hair, and exposed ribs, laughing like a pig.” Despite severe injuries, he managed to fend off ANM-682-2 with a shotgun, causing the entity to quickly retreat into a nearby forest. ANM-682-1 was seen retreating into dense brush shortly after.

Addendum 682-2: Psychological Effects

Extensive testing with Subject P personnel exposed to recordings of ANM-682-2’s laughter revealed a consistent pattern of psychological degradation. Subjects reported auditory hallucinations, including the sound of pigs grunting and human screams, even after the audio was stopped. Prolonged exposure led to violent outbursts, self-harm, and in two cases, suicide.

It is currently theorized that ANM-682-2’s laughter functions as a memetic hazard, potentially linked to the anomalous properties of ANM-682-1. Further research into the nature of this phenomenon is ongoing.

Addendum 682-3: Containment Efforts

Efforts to capture ANM-682-1 and ANM-682-2 have been unsuccessful. ANM-682-1 is believed to be capable of traveling long distances at high speeds, making tracking and capture extremely difficult. Current containment protocols are focused on minimizing civilian casualties and monitoring affected regions for signs of ANM-682’s presence.

Institute personnel are advised to approach all encounters with ANM-682 with extreme caution. Under no circumstances should there be direct contact with ANM-682-2. Any personnel exposed to ANM-682-2’s laughter must undergo immediate psychological evaluation and amnestic treatment as necessary.

[harlequinoccult]

hey there, this isn't rlly an ask as it is a ramble so uuh feel free to ignore it!

i usually play IFs by picking an oc of mine and deciding to put them into Situations. i have like 3 ocs that basically were born by me constantly playing IFs a certain way. the reason im saying this is bc while stalking browsing your tumblr, i realized smth i found quite amusing, which is that OD has a very similar backstory/traumas to one of my ocs, except both of them ended up w pretty much opposite personalities-

im gonna call my oc by his alias to make things fair, so Vulpine it is (he has a whole thing w foxes its not important). Vulpine also usually grows up without parents or any family really, basically raises himself as a street rat, has one HELL of a teenagehood, gets arrested at LEAST once, basically becomes an alcoholic from ages 14-20, has religious trauma that makes him question his worldview and changes his beliefs completely, is an aggressively stubborn motherfucker... but as he grows up he kind of "mellows out", in a way.

in slsq terms, ig his personality would mainly be apathetic with caustic (is that the name for the aggressive personality type?) tendencies. but mostly he's just sighing and trying to get on with this without dying. he stops drinking and using drugs completely in his adult years, mostly due to his never ending paranoia (he cant defend himself well enough if he's inebriated, and he learned that from experience). becomes much more patient as a person, much more set on his boundaries, and ultimately more of a "functional member of society". he's a bit of a cleaning freak, knows abt 8+ languages just bc he likes studying, is a MASSIVE fucking nerd who would live in university if he could. he probably was working on getting a doctorate or smth when Carter came along and just fucking ruined his life

on the surface, Vulpine and OD have... p much nothing in common. one of them is a stoic bitch with a dry sarcastic humor and a voice so deadpan you can barely tell what emotion he's feeling unless he gets truly angry (which is a surprisingly hard thing to accomplish), and OD is... well. it's OD.

but i do feel like there's some sorta kinship there, past their obvious differences. Vulpine is no stranger to extreme trauma and the habits someone would develop to try and overcome it in some way. he's no stranger to being shackled for most of your life and fighting so hard to get rid of those chains you end up changing yourself almost completely. he wouldn't try to "fix" OD bc he knows that's not how this works, but... he'll try his damn best to at least give them some stability. make sure they eat well every day. make sure they sleep on a proper bed and not just on a mattress on the floor.

the kind of absolute devotion and loyalty Vulpine can develop for someone... i can't wait to pair him up w OD and see what happens, ngl, i think their dynamic would end up being so interesting and change quite a bit the more they know eachother (from being mutually annoyed at eachother's existence to... something else)

i had no one else to ramble abt this, and tbh i could talk abt Vulpine forever so ill cut it out here! thanks for reading this if you do, i am so hooked in this IF already its ridiculous. i hope you're having a good day/night!

Never apologize for rambles!! I LOVE hearing about peoples MCs/OCs!!!

[indignantlemur]

what is your headcanon on the first agreement the andorians made with the Vulcans and what do you think it was that conflicted with the andorians interests?

Oooh, this is a good one! Also, hello! <3

So, to set the stage:

Based on inference and observation I think we can say that Andorians and Vulcans are at a similar stage, technologically speaking, during ST: ENT. Something about that makes me think that theirs isn't a case of Andorians being uplifted by Vulcans the way Humans were, but more of a parallel development sort of thing. (In fact, I'd wager Vulcans took the approach they did with Humans because of their experiences with Andorians.)

Historically speaking, Andorians had their first contact with Orions, which did not endear them to the idea of friendly aliens. In fact, that whole debacle nearly ended in a planetary invasion and the widescale enslavement of Andoria and was only thwarted at great cost. After that culture shock, Andorians approached relations with other aliens expecting everything to be either transactional or predatory, and they were largely determined to get the better half of the deal regardless of which it ended up being.

Vulcans, meanwhile, were understandably wary of a highly militant species which, to their observations, had a long history of paranoia and xenophobia and highly territorial behaviours. For my headcanons, at least, Vulcans went into their first contact with Andorians hopeful to establish friendly relations but realistically expecting Andorians to try to control the dynamic to their benefit. Thus, when the Vulcans opted to withhold certain technologies which they felt the Andorians would misuse or turn against Vulcan and its people, it only confirmed to the Andorians that the Vulcans were not only hiding something but actively planning to keep Andorians inferior to Vulcans despite what their diplomats promised.

A Territorial Compromise was established between Vulcan and Andoria when it became apparent that the two species would not be forming a firm alliance.

From there, relations fell through very quickly.

While it could have been any kind of agreement or accord that ultimately sent the whole thing tumbling down like a house of cards, I personally like to think it had something to do with the borders between Vulcan and Andorian space.

For my headcanon, because I like to tie my lore into the canon lore as much as possible, it was the establishment of the Weytahn colony that sparked the whole conflict.

While Vulcans have a different remembrance of the events that led up to the occupation of what they would call Paan Mokar, the Andorians actually did want to launch an experiment with terraforming technology on a small, out of the way planetoid to see if it was a viable approach to colonization. It's entirely possible that they chose Weytahn because it was small and relatively worthless in terms of resources, and thus not a huge loss of the project failed. True, it was close to the border they shared with Vulcans, but even the Vulcans had no interest in Weytahn and it was within Andorian space according to the Territorial Compromise. Besides, if the colony was successful, well, it would be in a prime location to guard against Vulcan incursions into Andorian space, which certainly made the location appealing - and naturally any Andorian colony needs to be defensible and able to protect itself. History had taught the Andorians to expect conflict, after all. Installing military equipment and planetary defenses was perfectly reasonable.

The Vulcans meanwhile, were determined to find a logical reason for the otherwise senseless placement of such a colony. In particular, they were mindful of the Andorians' aggressive and paranoid tendencies and through that lens they concluded that the only value the planetoid had was as a possible launch site for military operations. Its location would be ideal for covert military operations especially, given its proximity to Vulcan. Vulcan authorities requested (read: demanded) to inspect the colony, to determine that it was not in fact a military operation under the guise of colonization.

The Andorians took this request exceptionally poorly. Vulcan and Andoria had already hashed out the Territorial Compromise - it was a done deal, already bought and paid for. Vulcans had no right to go about inspecting Andorian colonies, if that was even what they actually planned to do once they had boots on the ground. The very suggestion was offensive, and it gave the impression that the Vulcans believed they had some kind of superiority over Andorians, that they could come and go as they pleased and inspect whatever they liked. Meanwhile, the more the Andorians refused, the more suspicious the Vulcans became. The more suspicious the Vulcans were, the more offended and angry the Andorians became. The angrier the Andorians were, the more certain the Vulcans were that they were right, that Weytahn was a military outpost.

Weytahn was overtaken (though that's not the word the Vulcans use) and the colonists were removed from the planetoid by force.

In the end, things were said, threats were made, and the lines of communication broke down spectacularly. What followed was roughly a century of aggression and conflict which always stopped just short of all out war, but only barely. A treaty (the Vulcan-Andorian Treaty of 2097) was made in an attempt to stall further conflicts over Weytahn/Paan Mokar, but ultimately the treaty was regarded as worth less than what it was written on by both sides by the time ST: ENT rolled around.

[wizardpeebis]

dude, endos are VISCIOUS. like. i reblogged a few anti endo posts because i am a traumagen system who does not like to see their safe spaces gentrified by ppl forcing themselves into a disorder that’s ruined my life and continues to affect it in ways that are not net positive.

so then i got an ask that was p clearly designed to induce paranoia (i’m guessing they dug through my blog a bit and gathered that i’m schizo-affective) and god forbid i reply to a pro endo post that’s entirely misinformative about all systems, because i’ll be met with the most conniving, passive aggressive, and just plain mean remarks.

the real thing that gets me is that all of their oppression is entirely self imposed. they invade spaces, demand attention, and when they’re told that what they’re doing is wrong, they throw a tantrum and start linking twitter threads with cherry picked evidence about how right they are. they make up buzzwords that are just plain bastardizations of terms related to trans history and oppression, and that is not unintentional. it is a purposeful play on language to heighten the sense of a liberation front for something that simply does not exist. manipulation like that is outright disgusting, and i have no problem thinking less of people who believe that it is okay.

i am especially mad at all the misinformation that gets spread? as someone who is figuring their system out and trying to learn things, misinformation can be extremely dangerous for me and it’s more than disheartening to think i’ve learned something new only to see “pro endo” in the tags and realize that i can’t trust a word i’ve just read. i don’t get why they can’t at least keep it to themselves if they can’t just shut up about it forever and always.

i’m just. eugh. i’m so sick of people in general taking oppressed identities and tacking them on as personality traits for brownie points and endos are an amazing punching bag ❤️

[shadowsrulemymind]

How the Prison Realm is a worse solitary confinement and what that means for Gojo Satoru:

With Gege stating that they hope to end the series this year and Gojo possibly being released from the Prison Realm very soon, I decided that it was time to write about my favorite theory for the series, especially since I haven't seen anyone else make a full documentation about it.

Content Warning! This theory will discuss in depth about horrific prison conditions, torture, suicide, self-harm, and severe mental health problems.

Spoilers for the manga up to Chapter 213.

To start off I HIGHLY recommend reading This post explaining the theory about Gojo’s left eye! Its very interesting and some of its concepts overlap with this theory. 

What exactly is solitary confinement?

Solitary confinement (SC) is a method used in prisons to punish disobedient/dangerous inmates. SC is carried out by isolating the inmate within a small room that's typically 6x9 ft. The cells may or may not have windows to see out of, have just enough room to contain a bed and a toilet with little space to walk around in, have blank walls, and little to no way to tell the time. Inmates are typically kept within the cells for 22-24 hours a day for however long the prison deems necessary. This can span from a couple of days to years.

The only contact inmates typically receive when held within a SC cell is restricted to the prison guards that give them food through a smaller door built into the steel door that keeps them trapped.

SC’s conditions have SEVERE effects on both mental health and physical health.

The psychological effects of SC are as follows:

Anxiety / Paranoia / Obsessive thoughts

Aggression / Decline in impulse control

Depression / PTSD

Insomnia / Loss of Identity

Cognitive disturbances / Psychosis

Losing touch with reality 

Increase risk of Self-harm and suicide

Hypersensitivity

The physical effects are as follows:

The shrinking of the hippocampus / Surges in the amygdala

Slowed brain activity / Worsening of intellect

Social Pain (Body translates this into physical pain)

Worsening of perceptual motor skills

Fewer/smaller/decreased connections of neurons

Fewer blood vessels in the brain

Hypertension / Increased heart rate / Shaking

Muscle atrophy / degradation of eyesight

Weakness / Loss of weight

To put it simply SC is designed to break its prisoners. Many of those who have been through SC have stated they would injure themselves to remind themselves that they are still real or even to force guards to enter the cells so that they could have a shred of human contact, even if it means being beaten by the guards and obtaining a longer sentence. Those who have gotten out have said the effects are long term and they have become afraid of being in open spaces or afraid of interacting with people. 

There is no benefit to SC, it makes violent inmates worse and non-violent inmates can become aggressive.

Many inmates commit suicide within SC or eventually do so after release due to the resulting mental health issues. The United Nations declared SC for more than 15 consecutive days to be torture.

Now that you know what the conditions/effects of SC are, lets take a look at how that relates to the Prison Realm (PR).

We only have a single image of what the inside of the PR looks like.

And just by this singular image you can immediately find similarities between the PR and SC:

Little to no room- While SC gives you at least a little room to walk around, the PR seems to have ZERO room for its inmate to move around in. Seemingly it contains its inmate within the dimensions of that persons body.

Complete isolation- The PR is a pocket dimension designed to completely separate its inmate from the rest of the world with absolutely no contact with the outside world or any other living beings.

No way to tell the time- Gojo states that time doesn't pass within the PR which means he will have no way of knowing how many hours, days or even years have passed while he’s contained within. 

Kenjaku even tells us that like SC the PR can only contain a single inmate and that the only ways out of it is either by being released intentionally or by suicide. Considering the current known similarities its no wonder Jogo states that the PR is taboo.

There's also symbolism that implies that Gojo wont be coming out of the PR the same as when he entered it.

As an artist I can tell you that blotting out the face the way that the PR does to Gojo’s before his capture is something we use often to symbolize a few things. Its been used to show that someone is inauthentic (eyes are the window of the soul) and/or that that person is corrupted. 

Trains are also a symbolism here since they can represent change and a transitional period. 

One thing that I think shows that the PR has some sort of effect on its inmate is the fact that Kenjaku wants to one day release Gojo from it. Its become obvious that Kenjaku does everything simply due to scientific curiosity and I believe that this is no exception to that. If the PR does effect Gojo, Kenjaku would ABSOLUTLY want to release him to observe its effects.

And if the PR effects Gojo the same way as SC would than it will be catastrophic.

Gojo has already shown signs of mental instability throughout the series. He’s unhinged when taking a fight seriously and seemingly had a manic episode during his rematch with Toji.

And after he kills Toji, when Geto finally arrives he seems to have started dissociating. Which he relies on Geto to help guide him and make the right choices.

Gojo has also shown multiple times that he wants to simply kill all the higher ups and be done with them all. 

Jujutsu Kaisen has had many moments that discuss mental health, whether that be during Geto’s downfall, Yuta stating he attempted suicide or Yuji’s current declining mental health and willingness to die. Gege knows what he’s talking about and its abundantly clear that the PR is based off of SC. 

This means Gojo is undoubtedly going to have serious issues when he’s finally released from the PR. 

He’ll be more aggressive than ever, his impulse control will be fucked, he might come out of there hallucinating and unable to even tell what’s real. Which if all of this is the case there is NO chance that the higher ups wont be slaughtered. He already wanted to kill them before and now that most of his friends are dead, his students are mutilated, the higher ups have exiled him and finally him losing the two children its implied that he raised? I can’t imagine he won’t finally snap. 

We’ve seen what happens to those jujutsu society deems worthless from both Maki and Toji. Maki murdered her entire clan and Toji became an unstable mess. It won’t be surprising if we will finally get to see what happens when they put ALL the expectations on someone. When they demand perfection. 

Gojo has been able to pick himself back up every time something has gone wrong, but I don’t think he will be able to do that this time. 

The higher ups at the very least will die, that I’m sure of; However, I think Gojo might take down both the Kamo and Gojo clan too. If he’s in such an unstable state he might just say ‘fuck it’ and kill everyone who had a hand in keeping their society the way it is. 

Gojo has now been in the PR for 16 days. This exceeds the UNs limit of 15 days for being held in SC. 

Another thing that I’ve begun to theorize while writing this is that it’s possible that with Gojo unable to tell how long its been inside the PR, what if the real world time he’s been imprisoned (3 years, 4 weeks) is how long he thinks he’s been imprisoned? Not sure if that will hold any weight but it’s definitely an interesting idea.

Edit: So a recent Q&A happened and...

This basically confirms everything that I said.

https://twitter.com/jacixn/status/1629947429901541377?t=dyu81gFSJzdZuGxefmQBAQ&s=19

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

ok well as promised here they are. assorted solaris headcanons, none of them really relevant to the plot of the game but i stay silly

solaris lost her eye in the death engine incident, but didn't lose it to impalement or 'physical damage' in the conventional sense. the right side of her was tilted towards the shockwave at the time of the explosion, and the force of the ripple ruptured it. her left eye is in tact, thank god, but it sustained some minor damage too. her eyesight was never as good post the incident

speaking of the incident, it really messed up her hearing, too. if you start talking to her while she's turned away from you, she's probably going to need you to repeat what it is you said. so she can listen again while reading your lips this time around

as a result of these two injuries, she experiences both visual and audio hallucinations. really, the former sort of come with the territory of losing an eye- that happens to just about anyone, at least initially. the latter stem more from her zoraxis-induced paranoia than the injury itself though

the radiation from the explosion also cut down her life expectancy by a good margin but really when you're affiliated with zoraxis you're gonna die early anyways. so it's fine.

she didn't mind most of her coworkers, really. obviously she spent the most amount of time working with the fabricator, but what engagement she got from the others was never intolerable. usually.

anna was probably a second favorite of hers, though their niches never crossed particularly often. her defecting is what properly planted the first few seeds of abandoning zoraxis in her mind

… though, granted, solaris is still under the impression that anna didn't… survive her assassination. so. that really dialed her willingness to quit back by a little bit

she wasn't even on earth at the time. didn't even get a chance to say goodbye proper… she can't regret something that wasn't her fault, but…

despite her intimidating air (which she does on purpose, really), she's of the belief that she gels pretty well with the majority of her coworkers

not zor though. she knows full well zor really does not like her. the feeling is mutual.

solaris eats like a horse. especially when she's in the construction phase of any of her projects. she needs a lot of energy to sustain a body that large, you know how it is

she doesn't have enough of a grasp on the concept of labels to label herself (not to mention neither of these terms were coined within her lifetime), but she's a bicurious demiromantic. she would just be bisexual, but she hasn't actually dated a girl before, so at this point in her life she doesn't fully know that yet

…….. what. what are you looking at her like that for. she hasn't.

she got into a fair bit of fights as a kid, though not for any particular reason related to her popularity or lack thereof. she wasn't even really particularly aggressive, she just wasn't allowed to play sports and needed a way to burn off energy

she likes chocolate. milk chocolate especially

she's kind of a movie nut, though explicitly with horror films. while she finds most other genres a little too unengaging for her to enjoy all the way through, horror strings her along through the suspense- and, occasionally, the unintentional comedy- of it all

she's not great at singing (mainly due to her lack of vocal control), but she's a… deceptively good dancer. not great, mind you- not by a long shot- but it's evident she's been taught. you'd never know, though. because she'd never show you.

she's gotten a little bit obsessed with soaking in hot baths ever since she recovered from the death engine. back then, it soothed all the burn wounds. nowadays it just helps loosen up her muscles and such

[chiss-ticism]

Eye, collision, moon, pistol for the emoji memes for the blood and silicon babe!!

Tysm!!! (Art of Pauline beautifully rendered by @/vtmgremlin!!)

👁️ EYE - What colour are their eyes?

Dark brown! They're so dark, mind, that they look black :).

Do people notice their eyes?

She has Dominate (•••) and is actively trying to bump it up to Dominate (••••) so I'd sure hope so! Jokes aside, I don't think people really pay them all that much attention outside of the fact that she makes excessive eye contact during conversations.

Is there anything special about them (shows emotion easily, literally magical…)?

Other than her overreliance on Dominate, nothing literally magical! The only other thing that comes to mind would be the aforementioned excessive eye contact. She does it intentionally to unnerve people - but, in my head at the very least, it does wonders for her reputation at the Asylum. "She doesn't smile, she doesn't blink... She's so morose." (<- probably meant as a compliment, knowing her clientele)

💥 COLLISON - What emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Embarrassment, for sure! She also has control issues, which're relevant to the story, but that's another problem entirely: The Anarch Baron of Downtown San Jose, Harrison, tasked the Pack with investigating some gang problems/notable Thin-Blood activity that was happening outside of his territory. A simple little reconnaissance mission with very few concrete instructions - just go in, find out what you can, and come back. The Pack manages to track down some members of one of the Thin-Blood gangs engaged in a heated argument with a Kine gang that had been, per their story, repeatedly encroaching on their territory. Things were escalating quickly and Pauline (her Bane Active [Anxiety] and her beast gnawing faintly at the back of her gums as she was at 3 or 4 Hunger) would've preferred that things didn't get bloody, so she used Dominate on the most outwardly aggressive Thin-Bloods, telling them something along the lines of "If you're going to behave like a dog, then kneel and bark like one." (the Thin-Blood did end up doing this, scaring the Kine off) She didn't bother apologizing to the Thin-Bloods, in her mind (despite them notably being outnumbered by the Kine) they still had no business engaging in warfare with simple street criminals. They're vampires; it'd be an abuse of power. But she did look bashful after the fact, regressing into herself and refusing to speak to them as she shakily lit a cigarette. Losing control/being embarrassed like that was enough for her to apologize to the Coterie for, effectively, dropping her mask for a moment as up until that point she'd been doing her best to put up a veneer of Cold Detachment & a Businessperson Persona, y'know? It was unseemly to behave like that, especially Infront of (in her mind) an impressionable fledgling.

🌙 MOON - What is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

She desperately, desperately, wants to become independent yet indispensable so that she can live unlife on her own terms without having to worry about people gunning for her. Blame the paranoia that her former Packmate, a Ventrue who defected from the Camarilla to be with his Thin-Blood boyfriend/Embrace, instilled in her for that. As for how far she's willing to go for it? Not far enough. Not yet. The Humanity degradation hasn't begun yet and, as such, she's still squeamish about things like having to murder Kine or delving into mysteries better left forgotten :) In time, though...

🔫 PISTOL -

Do they trust people easily?

:)

How easily will they turn their back to someone?

Not easily at all, she's extremely paranoid on the best of nights. After a meeting with some actual Anarchs - kind ones, mind, in the greater scheme of things - she checked Blake's car for tracking devices.

Have they been backstabbed before?

Not to her knowledge. Shocking, I know.

Will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Her Pack? No. Anyone else is fair game, though.

[rxttenfish]

Eyyy there! I've been playing Monster Prom recently and got the EEL ending. It seemed pretty interesting to me that Aaravi, of all characters, didn't show up to Miranda's funeral(or at least, there's no Polaroid showing it.) Since you ship the two, d'you have any idea as to why that's the case?(should this have been a deliberate choice)

honestly in the main game i just assumed that like. aaravi and miranda were never that close? while i do mention the fact that aaravi and miranda have never interacted in canon as another fun little selling point for my ship (because i like untapped potential and also rare f/f pairs that no one else is thinking of), its also still like. a decently important thing to understand in terms of where both of them are at in canon and why this ship is just me clutching onto a piece of driftwood.

like i honestly just assumed that aaravi heard that miranda got killed in a coup, went "huh. well that's what she had coming for being a fucking royal" and continued about her day.

and honestly from the outset i dont think aaravi would like miranda very much? this is a feature of my ship as well, of them gradually starting to understand each other more and having their affections slowly form as they realize they have more in common than they thought - but i REALLY can't imagine any case where the two of them start out thinking super fondly of each other.

aaravi hates authority and hates people telling her what to do and is prickly and aggressive even to the people who stand a much better chance of her liking them, and miranda's a blueblood with strict limitations on who she even deems to be a person and a notorious habit of treating poorly anyone who doesn't immediately recognize her as a Superior. there's no way getting around the fact that these two, on just the face of it, would immediately have problems with each other, and while that's why i like this ship, it's also something that can't come out of nowhere and would probably be super out of character for aaravi to do.

similarly, if they were actually starting to get to know each other in some meaningful way that would make aaravi potentially upset at miranda getting assassinated - aaravi's a tsundere. she HATES for other people to see her in moments of weakness, she has a high barrier of trust that needs to be earned before she'll feel even Moderately Okay crying around someone else, and funerals are like. prime location for a lot of other people seeing you at a low point. especially because miranda's a royal and this is a royal funeral we're talking about. if aaravi needed to process that death, then she'd likely be doing it alone, and that's if she doesn't just decide to repress everything and entirely ignore her emotions in some maladaptive way of coping with them.

even moreso because i kind of see miranda and aaravi as two sides to the same coin, if this makes sense? and in a sense, miranda's constant fear of assassinations and betrayals and coups is VERY similar to aaravi's paranoia around monsters and fear that she can never trust them because they'll always betray her and always want to hurt her in the end. both of these were even encouraged by both of their families, with miranda's family obviously sowing distrust for commonfolk and with aaravi's mom training her to be a slayer going tenfold after her dad left them.

if miranda can get killed out of nowhere from someone that she trusted, and she's shared this fear with aaravi and related to her with it, then aaravi is all too aware that that's not a far cry from her own situation, and it's even a validation of her own fears. someone else she trusted could do the exact same thing to her, planning to kill her and executing such a plan after going through so much effort to ensure that aaravi let them in. if miranda's death is fresh in her mind, then why would she go to a funeral full of nothing but monsters? especially if they might see her cry or get emotional, and right when someone else she knew had her emotions manipulated in the same way because she was vulnerable. not only might aaravi be mourning, but she might have a flareup of her own trust issues and paranoia and trauma, and she might not be in the kind of state where she can go to that kind of event.

it also gets all the more complicated once we consider aaravi's relationship to death. killing monsters is one thing, but she's also seen her mom slowly die, and at that point in monster prom, i believe she still thinks that her brother is dead. funerals could be especially loaded for aaravi, and its very likely that she hates going to them from experience, and could have intentionally passed it up, especially if she just thinks miranda's going to be dead anyways, and no amount of sitting around at a funeral with a bunch of other people is going to bring her back or make them even care. it might not even be about miranda herself, and moreso just that aaravi's relationship to death is already complicated as-is.

but yeah. most of this is just speculation on my part and because i'm out here propping up miravi as a ship, but my opinions on why they didnt do it in-game is just that miranda and aaravi have never interacted and thus aaravi wouldn't care enough to go.

[system753]

Adomania- The sense that the future is coming too quickly

I watch as the tar covers me, the sins of me as just a child.

A child exposed to early to exposure itself but when is too early for the unforgivable creatures of the earth.

Inflicting on others what was inflicted on you, seeing your memories and wondering how they began as they follow you in a single file line.

Hello, how are you this fine morning, monster?

—

Chapter 1 (toxic, abusive, and manipulative relationships-extreme paranoia-quick emotional state changes-please mention any additions)

The romanticization of death is ridiculous, escape is already romantic.

At least if he kills me, I’ll still escape.

I climb out of bed as silently as I can once he’s finally turned over in his sleep. My stomach aches to my back in stress, but I get up quickly to keep the bed from creaking for too long. My feet have made it too the floorboards, and immediately I am sprint walking with my hand hovering near the wall.

One, two, three, four, five, skip, seven, eight. I count the floorboards to the window in the small room. It would be harder for him to climb down the window with me than to go all the way across the house, I figured. The window was always open, heat made him uncomfortable, then angry. I climbed out as quickly as I could, as quietly as I could. I had watched right above him the whole time, he couldn’t feel eyes on him but I could still make sure his were closed. I was climbing down, cutting my fingers on thorns, anticipating the later itch of poison ivy, two different vines forming their own invasive patch on his outer wall, providing a questionably sturdy area to climb down.

Another cut, this one bleeding, before I dropped down. Leaves crunched under my bare, wounded feet, and I almost looked up to see if he had heard and would be staring out at me through the window.

I breathed, then I ran.

—

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

I stared at Derek. My customer service persona unfaltering, him looking back determined.

“You can agree to the job interview my work offered you.”

“I’m sorry sir, FBI job offers aren’t on the menu. May I suggest a simple black coffee? You seem like the type to appreciate good caffeine.”

I had leaned in and checked that no one would hear my mention of the FBI. My brother leaned in right with me.

“Amahle, this job is perfect for you, you’re perfect for it, in fact. You get better benefits, better pay, you can put your genius to work helping others. You can work with me even, you’ll be safer there than out here with nobody you know and no one you know will help you if you’re in trouble.”

I paused, him trying to see what I was thinking, once again failing miserably.

“So one black coffee then?”

He sighed.

“A muffin too.”

I let out a smirk.

“And one strawberry muffin.”

—

“I’ll go to the interview, but I’m wearing what I want and you’re driving me to it.”

I walked in holding a bag and coffee cup, handing them over to Derek as he stared up in shock.

“Stop making that face Morgan your breath will attract flies.”

He closed his mouth and took a sip of coffee at my side eye.

“ What prompted this decision?”

Impulsivity of course, and I was surrounded by micro aggressions in that Starbucks wannabe I currently work in.

I said so. He snorted.

“So you’ll do it as long as I agree to be late waiting for you and let you cosplay as black Elle Woods?”

“Look I’m sorry you’re bald but don’t comment on my hair care, also it’s not cosplay, I am black Elle Woods. Otherwise though, yes.”

He excused the quip at his hairlessness and looked at the ceiling.

“Alright, I’ll accept those terms”

—

“Ms. Woods, we’re gonna be late!”

Derek yelled at the door. I’d nearly finished, applying hot pink eyeliner after my outfit was finished. A matching pink cropped suit jacket and short pencil skirt with a white turtleneck and small purse. Once finished, I walked out and through the door past him.

“Well, let’s get going then.”

—

3rd Person POV

As Derek Morgan walked in that morning, five minutes late, he was followed by a woman, about the same height as him in all pink, including black braids with pink underneath them.

This of course peaked some interest.

They went their separate ways halfway in, him walking to his workspace and her to the head office.

“Who’s that?”

Asked Emily Prentiss, eyes still on the door that had just closed.

“My sister, Amahle Morgan, theyl’ll be joining this department once that’s over.”

“She’s signing her contract already?”

“No this is an interview, they’ve been getting offers for months though. She’s gonna get the job.”

“That’s a bold claim, what makes them such an asset they’ve been getting scouted?”

He looked up from the papers. Prentiss already leaning on the wall that surrounded each office. Deeply invested in his siblings appearance.

“She’s a genius, logically gifted sure but more than anyone I’ve ever met apart from her they’ve emotionally intelligent. They’ve got this thing where if you tell ‘em the first three fictional characters and they can tell you things about your life story you never consciously considered.”

Emily thought in interest for a minute, nodding before stepping away and walking off, thinking about what characters she thinks of.

—

“So why should I take this job?”

Amahle sat in a flat cushioned chair, taking off her jacket and making eye contact with an older, brown haired white man.

“Wouldn’t that question normally be reversed?”

“You guys are the ones that offered me the job, I decide whether I want to take it.”

Amahle said, a small grin present on her face, as one always had to be now.

“That’s bold. Fair, though. My name is Aaron Hotchner, if you accept the job you can call me Hotch.”

Amahle’s grin widened.

“Tempting.”

—

About 30 minutes later, all but two members of the unit were fully interested in what could be happening behind that door, and whether they’d have another Morgan in the BAU soon.

Another 30 minutes and the woman that had been eavesdropping by the door heard footsteps. Signaling to the others and hurrying back to her desk, followed quickly by the others who had huddled around poor Derek Morgan’s space.

The door opened, Amahle walking out before Hodge.

An empty ID card waiting to be set up on a pink lanyard (likely brought herself just in case).

They looked around, reading faces. Somehow everyone who had just scattered knew they’d been found out. She held up her card.

“As of tomorrow afternoon, I’m the BAU’s newest doctor.”

One of the people who had still been working before looked up.

“Excuse me, did you say you’re a doctor?”

She nodded, her eyes smiling with her lips.

“Yes, and you must be Dr. Spencer Reid them?”

[malka-lisitsa]

psychology + mental health deep dive !

tagged by: The most important person in my life.... me ♡

general mental health related trigger warnings apply.  feel free to include more or exclude those facts / test results that take too much time or don’t apply, you can check out this list for more personality-related quizzes to include!

QUICK FACTS ,

diagnoses: (unofficial like this bitch would ever go to a therapist, what goes on in her head is none of her business) C-PTSD, Borderline personality disorder. triggers: Literally everything? Not even kidding its hit or miss at all times because shes constantly in fight or flight mode and can sometimes see something as a threat one moment and not the next. skills:  She has ZERO healthy coping skills. She knows HOW to ground in a panic attack, but she often forgets to in the moment. She has zero emotional regulation so she lashes out a lot too. negative coping skills:  Drinking, lashing out in aggression words/actions, petty little revenge missions (or that time she became the devil) attachment style:   fearful-avoidant / disorganised (shes a mess) love language:  Katherine doesn't really have your standard love languages. If she likes you she wants to play with you, silly little games. I suppose that could be "quality time" and I suppose you could simmer her greatest show of love, putting her advantage and safety at risk as "Acts of service" ? myers briggs / mbti: entp (but she can be very introverted too, as long as shes not BORED she has no issues being alone for extended periods of time, and sometimes needs to be.)

HISTORY EXPLORATION ,

are their diagnoses formal ( via a doctor, therapist, etc. ) or informal ( self diagnosis, a hunch, unrealized, etc. ) Informal, she does not care shes just trying to live and be loved

have they ever been treated / medicated?  Oh she self medicates all the time <33333333

have they ever been hospitalized or treated on an inpatient basis?  Does Damon locking her in a tomb count?

how old were they when they first started experiencing / realizing symptoms?  Like most cases of BPD early teens.

do they have a family history of mental illness?   Well her father is a raging and abusive alcoholic man so probably.

how was mental health handled / discussed in the family / community? in the 1400's as a woman??? LMFAO SHE GOT STRAIGHT EXILED FOR HAVING A BABY OUT OF WEDLOCK.

what are their thoughts on mental health / their diagnosis?  Katherine is an advocate for mental health when it comes to pretty much everyone but herself. She had no problem helping Stefan with his PTSD, validated it and taught him grounding methods- which means shes highly aware and has at least researched some of her issues, but she considers herself too broken to be fixable. So she mostly buries her issues and pretends they arent there until she cant anymore. Bottle bottle bottle- breakdown.

in what ways has their diagnosis shaped their life or experiences?   ... you want me to just link her whole bio bc... No but her BPD makes it extremely hard for her to communicate the way she desperately wants to. It makes it hard for her to trust people, even when she wants to, and it makes her almost unpredictable in terms of reaction to rejection or criticism. Her paranoia is sky high. Shes just not having a good time and all she wants is Stefan.

SYMPTOMS: note that all of the below are, on their own, normative and typical aspects of human functioning. they become “symptoms” when they last longer than “normal” or when they pose a significant impact on someone’s life / functioning.

BOLD  all that are present,  ITALICIZE  those that are resolved or in the history.

depression.    anxiety.    panic attacks.    dissociation.    derealization.    depersonalization.    suicidal ideation.    self harm.    homicidal ideation.    psychosis.    auditory hallucinations.    visual hallucinations.    delusions.    mania.   hypomania.    racing thoughts.    hyperactivity.    attention difficulty.    flashbacks.    nightmares.    hyperarousal.    hypoarousal.    hypersexuality.    hyposexuality.    psychopathy.   risky behavior.    catatonia.    somatic / bodily concerns.    mutism.    phobia.    agoraphobia.    hoarding.    obsessions.    compulsions.    body dysmorphia.    hair picking.    skin picking.     amnesia.    illness anxiety / hypochondria.    sensory loss.    speech difficulty.    comprehension difficulty.    communication difficulty.    tics.    defiant behavior.    irritable mood.    vindictiveness.     aggression.    pyromania.    kleptomania.    paranoia.    attention seeking.    narcissism.    avoidance.    dependency.    pica.    rumination.    food restriction.    food binging.    purging.    soiling the bed.    insomnia.    fatigue.    sexual dysfunction.    delirium.    developmental delays.

explanations / elaborations on any of the above symptoms:

I have several HC's that deep Dive Katherine's mental state, two of them are linked in the above info <3

[pulquedeguayaba]

.

I'm so fucking tired of everything

Of this stuck loop I've been into since the pandemic started (but more with my current job since June 2021)

It's like a monotonous and neurosis inducing limbo in which I'm further stuck with the toxic cycle of depression-substance abuse-possible adhd and it's do hard to get out

Taking slow and size varying steps but it's not enough

It's becoming worse lately, I can barely tolerate the people I live with. There's nothing I wish more than to have my own place just me and my dog, and no one else, at least for quite a while (except for more animals ofc, the only ones who truly brighten a home without ever giving you bitter moments). Which is hard becos gentrification and still doable ofc but it'd be like a medium-term goal (especially cos I'm not sharing).

Also I've been more aware cos lately I'm exclusively smoking hashish (except for this weekend, and yeah, definitely putting regular consumption of weed aside for some time, for this and other [dysmorphia/dysphoria/ed] related reasons) and yeah no.

And it's kinda messy and got it sorted in my head but the people around me don't respect me (and for the most part I don't care except it shows in certain interactions that have been irritating me A LOT lately) and like don't expect anything from me but some of them are also kind of disappointed in very this passive aggressive and cunty way. And I hate it and I been hating interacting with them (which isn't that often but even the shortest interactions with most of them are enough for me to feel annoyed for a while) and I can't even complain cos they'd be like tf u on? Y u overreacting? So sensitive must be the drugs and again the scenario where everyone is allowed to be angry and call people out be assertive and be emotional except fucking me (apparently is related to the cancer Mars curse, that horrendous and useless placement)

And I just wish my domestic life wasn't this stressful and because I'm a body freak I got all my reactions and ticks in check and so my body has to find ways to let out the stress (even though I work out every day sometimes quite intensely) also this is where weed usually came in but again had been giving me headaches lately plus the binge eating and yeah the smell cos paranoia and again the cycle

I feel so trapped and I feel so stuck

And I just wish I could just one day wake up and being a workaholic and get out from here

[schizosupport]

Hi, it’s the paranoid anon who had a crush on their friend, again…

I’m here to ask advice, again, I hope it’s okay? My social circle is pretty small…

The situation with my friend, currently, is bad.

Until a few days ago, I had the habit of commenting on her posts (ironic posts or even just straight sad posts) with what I thought to me was concerned half jokes.

I thought she didn’t like them, because one day she tagged everyone who’s a mutual friend and said that she’s just trying to make a joke, that she wanted to make us all laugh, and thanked for the efforts. (Plus a few sad and inverted face emojis)

So… I told her, that I thought I made her sad, and so unfollowed her to not hurt her and comment on her posts, to which she replied she wasn’t actually sad, and said it was all a meme (a joke).

And she also told me to keep commenting on her posts. In a very aggressive manner.

That made me feel hurt. Used, for a joke. I felt offended. I really dislike it when people boss me around. And would really not talk to her about it anymore. And also not follow her anymore.

She still interacts with me as before, but… I notice I’m trying to avoid her.

And I wanted to ask… is that an okay course of action? Am I being reasonable here?

I’m not sure because I’m pretty paranoid, and I know my paranoia can get the best of me at times. But I’m also unsure because I’ve been gaslight into doubt before, too.

Hi there anon! It's always ok to send an ask, don't worry about reaching out!

Ok so of course I can only speculate on some elements of this situation based on the information in your ask, so forgive me if I'm totally off.

So I'm going to be honest and say that based on what little information I have in this ask, your level of upset with her behaviour sounds like it might be a bit disproportionate. On the other hand, it also sounds like she's not been very sensitive to things that could upset you, and there can obviously be a number of elements in this situation that I don't know of, which is causing/influencing your reaction.

From your description this sounds like a series of misunderstandings and overreactions from each side. You'd been commenting on your friend's half-jokey sad posts with half-jokey concern. This is normal and okay behaviour. Then your friend makes a post to clarify that she may joke about being sad a lot, but she's ok don't worry, but thanks for the concern! I don't think anyone who is not the least bit sad makes sad humour posts, but she may have realized that some of it may be concerning to others. Alternatively, she may have felt self-conscious about being too open about her emotional life on social media. I have no idea how the sad and inverted emojis fit into this message, but also I'm old.

At this point you interpreted this post as if she's upset/saddened by your comments, you told her as much, unfollowed her and said you will stop commenting. Now again I haven't seen the post she wrote, but based on what you've told me, this isn't an obvious read of the post, and it wouldn't be an expected or desired reaction. She's clarifying that she's ok but 'thanks for the support anyways', and suddenly this is taken to mean that she was upset by the comments, and she is unfollowed by a close friend. You're doing this bc you feel that you've overstepped a boundary and you're trying to respect her, but from the other side this likely didn't make obvious sense. And in the most basic sense, I think she was hurt by it, and she replied aggressively and in generalizing terms.

Then this again is really uncomfortable on your end. You feel like you're being ordered to interact and like you've been made a fool of for showing genuine concern for your friend. Once again, perfectly valid to feel, but I think the reality of the situation is a bit more complicated.

I think she was upset bc you stopped following her (out of the blue from her perspective) and she genuinely appreciated your commentary. Likely for the joke, and likely for the kernel of truth underneath the joking. So I don't think she was telling you to 'keep generate content with me' as much as she was saying 'wtf pls don't cut my hand off all of a sudden'. And given that you reason for unfollowing was your concern that you make her sad, she would be expected to double down on the notion that it's all a joke.

Obviously this all comes down to dynamics and conversations that I'm not privy to, and as I said, there could be factors i don't know of. All I'm saying is that based on what little info you have given me, this isn't necessarily a sign that either of you have wronged the other.

With that being said, even if it's an unreasonable course of action to avoid her etc, I think that it can still be an okay course of action. You are your own person.

I do think that it's important not to dismiss your feelings and desired boundaries out of hand. I think it's worthwhile to examine the evidence behind it, but even if you found yourself completely unreasonably uncomfortable with someone's company, you still get to respect your boundaries and take a break from that person. Taking a step back from a relationship and examining it from above can be helpful in figuring out if that relationship is healthy to you or not.

You can be hurt or uncomfortable even if the other person has a good explanation for their behaviour, even if their behaviour was objectively ok. And you are in your right to take a break or pull away from a relationship if that's what feels best.

But if you are unsure, and if you hope to get back to what once were in a relationship, then trying to have a conversation about what is going on can be helpful. And if pulling away entirely, throwing a 'I'm sorry but I'm feeling triggered and uncomfortable in the relationship right now so I'm going to retreat for now' is a worthwhile effort in my opinion.

Because from the other end, it's very upsetting to be suddenly ghosted, unfollowed or even blocked by a friend for reasons they may not even begin to understand.

I don't know if this is helpful, but that's what I'm thinking off the top of my head. I hope everything goes well, whatever you choose to do!

[oliviahallwriting]

Chapter 1

One week earlier

Not much bothered Tom. Sure, a racist kid had tried to get under his skin a few times in middle school, with comments that he couldn’t remember. The first time, he’d shoved the kid backward, into a berry bush at the edge of the baseball diamond. The second time, he’d used a fist, and no one had tried to bully him again.

At least, not until high school, if that even counted. It wasn’t that he had enemies— he was mature enough to realize from an early age that the concepts of best friends and worst enemies were both kind of stupid—but for whatever reason, people tended to mutter under their breath when he passed them in the halls. The band geeks, the gays. A few cheerleaders, too. In retrospect that might have been flirting; he’d broken ties with his girlfriends on reasonable terms, so they didn’t have much dirt on him. So he chalked up his schoolmates’ weird passive aggression to teen angst: beyond him, unfathomable.

So no, he wasn’t bothered by much. Maybe death, but that scared everybody. Hell, he’d even built up a bit of a tolerance to it from his stint in retail. Not that selling sportswear was dangerous. No, it’d been the fear itself. After a while, a few hours on the job, a few too many weird customers, some asinine scheduling decision, an idea came to him that it wouldn’t be so bad if he’d simply…float away. Away from obligation. What would it be like to hang up his coat and walk away from the store, the mall, the town? Sometimes, in the parking lot before an eight-hour shift, he’d slowed down as he walked past the reversing cars.

At least university, all six weeks of it, hadn’t been as bad. He’d gone through the fire and survived. He was invincible, stoic. He could pursue his education with rationality and moderation, even if he had to go it alone. Wasn’t like he’d made a lot of friends in class.

A vibration from his pocket jump-started his heart and interrupted his thoughts. He’d been meditating—well, musing, he hadn’t gotten the ‘clear your mind’ part of his plan down yet—near one of the landscape-architecture buildings of Loftman’s campus, with fifteen minutes to kill before his next lecture, a nice, relaxing intro class about the fundamentals of design. 

Tom checked the caller ID on the phone and saw his sister’s name, Allessandra. A little weird; only his parents preferred calls over texts, and even they’d converted to video chats after the first couple weeks. He sighed and found a bench inside the building, down some hallway or another. It wasn’t much more comfortable than the wooden bench outside, but at least he was alone. He called her back.

“Hey,” Allessandra said.

“Something going on?”

“Nah. I had some time to kill before calc.” The next few sentences were quieter. “I wanted to look busy. Some old white people in the psych department were looking at me funny. Thought they were going to lecture me on how this generation’s always on their phones and shit.”

“They might judge you for saying ‘shit’ out loud.”

“Fuck that,” Allessandra replied, but she was still muttering into the phone.

Tom laughed. His sister had been self-conscious to the point of paranoia for a while now. It might be beneficial to her if someone yelled at her for swearing. Wasn’t that a thing in psych? Face your fear head-on or whatever? His sister would probably know; she was aiming for at least an associate’s in the field.

“Well, uh, how are your classes going?” he asked.

“Fine, I guess. I don’t know what I expected.”

“I mean, it’s LCC. If you were thinking of above a, like, six out of ten experience you’ve been oversold.” 

Their parents had wanted at least one of them to go to community college to save money, and Allessandra had welcomed the chance to get away from him. He didn’t mind. Not that his sister was terrible company, but twins tended to get grouped together more than other siblings, fraternal or not. And at this point in his life, he was over it. Especially since she’d found a boyfriend, and it’s not like he wanted to be linked to him by association. Maybe he was okay; Tom had never met the guy.

“Six out of ten sounds right,” she said. Her sigh came across through the phone speaker just fine. “Maybe your school has charismatic professors.”

“Nah. So far, Grandma’s the only one.” 

Tom didn’t need to take more than one or two chem classes to graduate, but he welcomed the opportunity to learn from his grandma. Being related to his professor wouldn’t make the class easier, but at least she’d take him out to dinner after the final. And hey, she wasn’t bad at holding a class’s attention.

“Oh yeah,” Allessandra said. “How’s that going?”

“My classmates weren’t ready for her.”

“I can imagine,” Allessandra replied. She knew Grandma as well as he did, if not more so. She was, at least, privy to the girl-talks that occurred every year after Thanksgiving dinner, while he watched sports with his dad and uncle. 

A small moment passed before Tom’s sister spoke up again.

“You found a girlfriend yet?”

Tom paused.

 “What, in chemistry?”

“No, in general.”

“Because you didn’t transition between phrases very well.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Sure I have.”

“Liar.”

“No, Al. Obviously not. It’s only been a month and a half.”

Tom heard the sound of his sister’s laughter over the phone, and felt his face heat up. He should hang up. The philosophers he’d read tended towards letting go of anger, or to take measures to ensure you’d be unaffected. He could reasonably leave the call, maybe figure out how his sister had that peculiar ability to really just push his buttons. 

“Have you even tried? Some people in my classes got girlfriends and boyfriends in the first week.”

“How about,” Tom started, and the words left him without thought and with the sharpest cutting edge he could find, “How about you worry about random people on the street instead of telling me to be like your slutty classmates?”

A few students glared at him. For the past few minutes, they’d been gathering in front of the nearby classroom doors. For some reason, his sister hadn’t hung up the phone, so he kept going.

“You have a boyfriend, so why don’t you let me solve my own problems?” He said. The rage in his heart had dissipated a bit. One of the good consequences of yelling at someone, he supposed, was that it did, often, get rid of anger. Or at least, throw it towards someone else. “Hook, uh, hook up with him or whatever. I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Allessandra replied. “Are you done?”

“Yeah.”

“Ty doesn’t go here, so I can’t take your brilliant suggestion to heart. Maybe if you thought a little you’d have remembered. And sorry for trying to call you! I’d hoped to stop you from getting so in-your-head and miserable by, you know, asking about what’s going on in your life. Like normal people do. Guess that was too much to ask.”

“Well, I don’t need advice,” Tom said. “Not about this.” 

With that, he ended the call. He felt a little weird about it. Maybe guilt or something. And sure, he’d overstepped a little, though for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the specifics of what he’d said. And his sister had crossed a line, hadn’t she? It was warranted.

From a few blocks away, Loftman’s bell tower, La Marschiena, chimed one.

Days passed, then weeks. Allessandra didn’t call or text Tom throughout, which was fine with him. He didn’t feel like thinking about their conversation, at least not until after finals. With any luck she dropped it. God knew he had, especially considering that, after nine weeks into university, all of his professors seemed to collectively decide to make their students work for their grades.

So, at the seventy-five percent mark of the semester, he’d had to cram through two essays, and BS a third. Even his grandma’s class wasn’t any better; when he’d asked the clearly stressed-out chem T.A. to check his process for solving unit equations, she’d nodded absently at both problems, though he’d used two different methods to solve them. And unit equations were almost a third of the final, so he needed to get his shit together.

This was why, on a Friday evening he’d have loved to spend in front of a gaming console, Tom wandered through Loftman’s campus, looking for the undergrad chemistry lounge.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to walk through campus during a nice fall evening, though. Tom couldn’t help but glance around him and take in his surroundings. Aside from the lowkey-nepotism of being the grandson of a professor, there was a reason he wanted to go to Loftman.

Native California redwoods towered over libraries and lecture halls. The waning sunlight kaleidoscope onto curving paths and straight sidewalks. Footpaths were everywhere, often in flagrant violation of nearby pavement and sometimes weaving through forest. In an hour, when the sun had fully set, the paths would become dangerous.Tree roots were all-too easy to miss, and even easier to trip over. The paths were dark, too; the redwood trunks shielded most light from the buildings. Even the scattered blue emergency lights were kept to the main roads.

Tom passed a residence hall. It was a few stories high, loosely modernist in style, and held a pleasant terrace near the front doors. A nearby plaque, illuminated by a few muted fluorescents, labeled the building ‘Chopin Hall’. Ah, Tom realized. Like the composer.

He wondered what Chopin would have thought about the university using his name for one of their residence halls, especially the, well, the gay one. The one for the LGBT people. Whatever. He wasn’t homophobic or anything; really, he couldn’t care less.

The light strings flickering over the many balconies weren’t what tipped him off, nor were the LED flashes through windows signature of gaming accessories. No, there were the flags. More so than the other halls, flags were everywhere, covering windows with various stripes and at least one circle. Only a few related to any country, either. Tom frowned; it seemed odd to have a country flag next to one of…these other ones. Arrogant, even. He didn’t even know what most of them meant.

He passed Chopin and reached Ashman Hall, the science lounge that his grandma’s syllabus described. She’d preferred holding office hours there rather than at the staff complex, which she described as a ‘sterile mess’. 

The science lounge blended well with its environment. Moss grew between its stony seams, dating the building at least a few decades. A metal accessibility button stood on a nearby wooden pedestal, and cozy amber light streamed through the glass door. A paper-white golf cart was parked in front of the building, the words “Loftman Sciences Accessibility Transport” printed on its side.

Tom stepped inside. Two girls were muttering to each other on a faux-leather sofa. The only phrases he caught were “subconscious” and “rain” before they stopped talking and glanced over at him. When he walked in front of them, trying to get their attention, they averted their eyes. He frowned; it wasn’t like he was too close to them or anything. For all his faults, he was pretty good at watching out for personal space.

“Evening,” he said. Damn if that wasn’t too formal. Compounded with his width—he was a pretty broad guy, even from a few feet away—they probably thought he was menacing. He backed off a little.

“Hello,” one of them, a blonde, replied.

“Do you know if Dr. Rose is around? Her syllabus said to meet her here for her office hours, but she didn’t specify a room. I figured she’d be in the lounge or something.”

The other one startled a little, apparently coughing on her own spit, so Blonde gave her a thump on the shoulder. 

“Chill,” she muttered, before gesturing down one of the hallways. “Down that hall and to the right after a couple rooms.”

“Thanks, ladies,” Tom replied.

“No problem,” Blonde said.

Tom started down the hall. If the place were busier, he wouldn’t have heard them continue their conversation, but their voices carried down the echoey corridor.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Me? You’re the one who can’t keep your voice down. Who knows what he heard?”

“Well, maybe he wouldn’t have cared if you hadn’t freaked out!”

“Oh, wait, shit—”

They stopped talking. Tom realized he’d been standing still in the hallway. He turned around, preparing an apology. The glass door to the lobby was still closing, revealing only the evening darkness. They were gone. He shrugged and returned to the hallway. 

The office door he’d been directed towards was open. His grandma looked up as he entered and clapped her hands gleefully.

“Oh, so nice to see you!”

“Hi, Grandma,” Tom said. “I was hoping you could help me out with some of these problems. I, um, didn’t understand the unit equation stuff even after three lectures.”

“Ah, I figured it wasn’t a social visit. Young man like you on a…what’s the day of the week? It’s a weekday, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s Friday. You gave a lecture this morning.”

“Of course, of course. Friday night. Talking to me couldn’t have been your preferred way to spend the evening.”

Tom frowned. “That’s not—don’t say that about yourself.”

“Ah, but it’s not incorrect, is it?”

He didn’t reply for a moment. 

“You’re more interesting to talk to than a lot of people around here, anyway.”

“I can’t speak to that. I don’t talk to many students these days. It’s been a few weeks, I think, since anyone showed up.”

That seemed a little strange. Maybe his grandmother wouldn’t have had every office hour filled, but she still ran a class of at least seventy-five, and most of her students needed it to graduate. At some point it was a numbers game.

“I mean, I went to your last one a few days ago. Monday.”

“Oh, pity. Must have slipped my mind.”

She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but Tom felt a tinge of sadness anyway. That his grandmother’s memory had apparently faded so much in the past week, well. Age would come to everyone someday, wouldn’t it?

“I, um, hear that doing crosswords helps people stay sharp,” he said quietly. 

His grandmother responded with a tone that reminded him of a reason why his classmates might have preferred the campus’s peer-tutoring program to their professor. His grandmother, for all her kindness, could make anyone feel incompetent, in chemistry or otherwise. That her ruthless grading policies often proved the feeling correct was a bonus. “Tom, I may have had a ‘senior moment’, but that doesn’t mean I’m cutting with a dull knife.”

“Of course. I shouldn’t have, um, implied.”

“So I don’t want to hear anything about how I might have forgotten some details about the last, I don’t know, little while. I’m sure they’ll come back to me.”

He made a little sound of acknowledgement and opened his notebook. He discussed the problems for a while. Once or twice, he thought he understood the process, only to be foiled by some weird oxidation rule. After forty minutes or so, he tried another problem. This time he was able to correct his mistake and come to the correct answer.

“Well done,” his grandmother said. “And don’t worry if you’re struggling with this. I believe that almost twenty students dropped the class over the past two weeks.”

“I’m not surprised,” Tom replied. “They suck.” 

Whenever there was a vaguely difficult concept, all he’d hear for the next few days were complaints. The class was hard, chemistry sucked and had no point, the professor wasn’t doing her job. It shouldn’t be his problem that they didn’t know how to be adults and ask for help. Or drop the class, if it was so goddamn hard.

“Mind your tongue, Tom. You’re better than that.”

His grandmother had been obsessed with language as far back as he could remember. A few formative months in middle school had put a stop to him swearing in front of her. Her glares were withering. She’d never needed to use anything else to get him to hold his tongue. She probably wouldn’t have done more than take away his consoles, but he’d never felt the need to test her.

“They, um, give up too easily, and I find their complaints annoying.”

She nodded and started him on another problem.

Thirty minutes later, well after the office hour was supposed to end, Tom felt that he had the unit-equation procedure down, but also that he probably wouldn’t get above a B minus on the final. The process was still difficult, there were too many parts to trip over, and the test was open-answer.

Someone knocked on the door—a formality, considering it was already open—before sheepishly leaning into the room. Tom recognized her as the T.A. for his class section.

She was a little older than Tom and most likely in a masters’ program. Tom didn’t know her very well. He’d only talked to her a few times in class, since he usually reserved his questions for the office hours. She seemed friendly enough, and gestured a lot when she talked, though lately came across as overwhelmed.

“Come in, Kiyana,” his grandmother said.

Kiyana wore cornrows, a button-up vest, and a somber expression. 

Tom’s grandmother’s friendly smile dropped. “Presumably this isn’t about your masters program?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Kiyana wrung her hands and gave Tom a pointed, but not mean, glance.

“Oh,” Tom’s grandmother said. “Well, Tom, this was lovely, but I have to end the office hour early. Or, late, I suppose. Feel free to call me tomorrow if you still need help.”

Tom picked up his notes. “I might.”

He wouldn’t. He’d rather walk through a windstorm than surprise someone with a call; there was something so rude about asking someone to use their voice without warning, and it was almost worse to go to voicemail and know, on the other end, that the other person would stress out, trying to guess a time to call back. It was enough that he answered calls from people he knew; it would take a situation more severe than his chemistry final to call someone himself. “I’ll see you next week, at the latest.”

“Certainly,” his grandmother replied, but Kiyana interjected.

“The master’s program chair told me I could take over the first day or two for your next semester’s classes, if you need an interim. Just the syllabus stuff and chapter one. So I’ll be there instead.”

“News to me. Does he know that my retirement doesn’t start until next summer?”

“I don’t know. He was kind of vague about it. I just thought you should know.” Kiyana turned to Tom. “Anyway, goodbye, um, what’s your name?”

“Tom.”

“Bye, Tom. Sorry about this,” she said, gesturing broadly around her. “Logistics and all that.”

He left the room. Though he’d tried to leave the door open, Kiyana shut it as he left, muting the rest of the conversation.

The weekend and following week were whirlwinds of finals, in chemistry and every other class. Tom had neither the time nor mental energy to give a second thought to his conversation during the office hour. He wouldn’t have even worried when his grandmother didn’t show up to the final exam, leaving the proctoring to a few professors pulled from other classes. She wasn’t there for the lab final, either, a stressful “figure out the compound by its interactions” challenge run by Kiyana. 

He only started to worry when he received an email, not to his school account, but to his personal email address.

To: tommrose@kmail.com

From: drsusanrose@kmail.com

Subject: absent

Don’t go to the police. Read the syllabus. Find out what’s missing. Find aid. A pair of flowers, one with thorns. but you’ll need the other. Do not reply.

[violetsystems]

I’ve watched this new black and white cow cat roam the yards lately. It was so healthy, long and proud. It was out on my steps this morning. This afternoon it looks wounded with part of the tail missing. This neighborhood does not take care of the animals it lays claim to when convenient. Probably doesn’t care for it’s flock of sheep either. Only for show I guess? They do handle the rat problem. At least the ones that are not human. But the tabby that used to come to my doorstep I tried to bring in disappeared one day. If mine stayed outside and kept eating shit food I don’t know where it would be. A lot of people out here talk a lot of shit but never do anything in terms of care or attention. No tenderness just selfish territorial aggression. Acting no better than the animals you play with but let wander around out there in the street. I shudder to think how that works out for the humans in traffic. I can’t save everyone. And it hurts to see living things get hurt and have to recover alone. But make no mistake that is nature out there dealing with us all. It’s not some conspiracy. It is cause and effect. From little tails to tall ones. Only love and kindness protects you out there. And judging from what I feel from this neighborhood every day? Cheap talk and paranoia won’t save you from a random act of fate. And when it doesn’t? It just doesn’t. I don’t wish anything bad on anyone. But just like that cat limping around? One day you are top of the world. The next day you stand in the shadow of the sun wounded and helpless. I know how that feels because it is the core of what I survive whether I claim to be a victim or not. But my heart and home are full. Don’t look for shelter under my goodwill. Look to nature with humility. I don’t owe many people love or an explanation anymore. Not like you’d listen anyway. But remember the world moves in brutal and unforgiving ways. I have to be vigilant at all times for the things I care about. For the things I don’t? Karma is a mf. Stay frosty. 🥶