#psych mentioned

[grinchwrapsupreme]

shawn's deep trust of lassiter keeps catching me so off-guard like when he's held captive and lassie and henry both turn up he tries to yell "carlton" not "dad" and when he sees a guy with a gun come into the restaurant he goes straight for lassie and keeps trying to get his attention instead of literally any of the other dozens of cops in the room with them and when he's telling someone to call the police he tells them to ask for lassiter, not jules, not vick, lassiter. like he spends all his time provoking lassie but the second there's danger there's literally no one else he trusts more

[spacebubblehomebase]

📻🍎 I know Alastor's Shadow conveys his true feelings at times, but what if his random background music does too? XD Meanwhile, Luci's just there to give our deer friend a little smooch! 🥰💕✨️

Also I am proud to announce that I'm officially on break from school. Which means it's back to your regularly not scheduled programming of #HHStargazersAU content from me! Please look forward to it! Because I'm just as excited to share my Chaggie & Radioapple story to you all once again! =D -Bubbly💙

[dim-3kx]

i miss how fruity shawn spencer was in season 1 … can y’all even imagine how powerful bisexual shawn would’ve been

[skydaemon]

kabru as a psych student who KNOWS about ethics guidelines and KNOWS he's not qualified to make diagnostic statements and therefore spends every moment with laios grinding his teeth to dust because HOW DOES THIS MAN THINK HE'S NEUROTYPICAL!??!?!?

[starfish-spencer]

Just wanted to bring attention to Lassie's list of Do's and Don'ts for shark-fishing because it's really funny:

Don't foul language the shark

@iceeericeee @arrowheadedbitch @therealstonks

[movietonight]

Shawn lived in Argentina for a year and can tell different Spanish accents apart but can't speak Spanish during the soap opera episode. I love when writers just gave zero fucks about continuity.

[koipalm]

in the myth of eros and psyche, her last task is go to the underworld and retrieve some of persephone's beauty. so here's her in hades, where zagreus hasn't found his mother yet. the 'beauty of persephone' she brings back are gifts from zagreus, as he's the last of his mother's beauty in the underworld

[sanasanakun]

People try too hard to make Curly an active participant in Jimmy's abuse. Isn't the whole point that he's passive in everything Jimmy does? Abuse occurs because he actively doesn't do anything? Not to call someone out or be mean, but I saw a post saying Anya's ID being in Curly's locker at the beginning shows that he intended to prevent Anya from filing an HR report and I disagree. I get where that interpretation is coming from, but I think it's a little uncharitable. I don't like being too kind to Curly because he's like...a morally mid dude at best lol But if we're going by the HR report interpretation, I would say it's more likely he requested Anya's ID in order to file an HR report on her behalf. After all, the only way to contact Pony (that we see) is in the cockpit, he's the Captain, and Pony Express sucks bad so I wouldn't put it past them to only allow the Captain to use the communication device thing. As we see before, Curly is the only one able to use tools around the ship that you would think other employees could use (ex. Swansea should be able to use the axe if he's the repair guy. Idk why they'd need an ax but that falls under manual labor which Swansea is designated for as the mechanic/fixer dude. But it has to go through Curly). I never got the vibe that Curly moved to actively protect Jimmy. He just lets things happen without say a word; Jimmy walks all over him, and by extension, the whole crew. I get why people would think that because he gives the whole "Hey Jimmy, we can get through this together, bud" spiel right before the crash. This part interests me a lot because there's so many ways to interpret Curly's intentions there. My interpretation is that Curly is on autopilot mode. The responses seem so stilted in comparison to Jimmy's. Like it's the kind of thing Curly's said before again and again and again when Jimmy's gotten in trouble. However, as others previously pointed out, I don't think Curly ever dealt with Jimmy doing something this irredeemable. He doesn't know how to respond, so he just goes for the default "You've gotten through tough situations before. Work through it one step at a time." Like the response is lame af lol I think he was in shock; he was scared (and just so I can say it one more time: he's super lame).

Anyway, this is way longer than I intended and I've said things a billion people have already stated. But uhhh tldr the whole point of Curly's character is he's passive; he never acts. He just watches. Making him an active participant in the abuse by taking actions to cover for Jimmy (like preventing Anya from filing an HR report) defeats the purpose of his character. He's a bystander.

[yellowyarn]

wish people we're normal about self-harm.

can we please let people exist as self harmers without telling them they are wrong/bad for self harming or not wanting to "recover" (at all or in the expected way)? can we let people talk about it without telling them their too triggering all the time? can we let people and art exist with scars without requiring them to warn everyone that their body is too disturbing for people? can we stop trying to categorise reasons/types of self harm as (more) acceptable and unacceptable? can we stop shaming people for not taking meds or doing therapy?

[gothsuguru]

Request: Getou feels bad for secretly liking Gojo’s gf and making excuses to touch her.

the enormity of my desire disgusts me

contents: f!reader, one-sided love, obsession, cursing, touching (not unwanted but the intention is unbeknownst to reader as geto makes it a point to always want physical contact w them), mentions of self-destructive behaviors, guilt, & delusions. w.c: ~ 2.3k

a/n: hi! tysm for requesting :’) this is my first ever request/first time writing so please bear w me & i hope you enjoy! constructive criticism is totally welcome! <3

guilt creeps up suguru’s throat like a slithering serpent.

it crawls around the base of his tongue, writhing farther down, embedding its fangs into the flesh of his throat. a raw, mangled, bloody mess left in its wake.

remorse, witnessing the disarray that guilt’s plight leaves, frantically tries to discern where a home can be made. perhaps it can dance along his ribcage. pirouetting across his bones until it reaches a bloody cavern where it can dwell within a hole burrowed deep inside suguru’s heart.

maybe all of this despair can be washed away… a desire to cleanse his palate & purge his feelings away persists, yet he doesn’t allow himself the reprieve.

instead, he decides to swallow his shame down like a bitter whiskey, relishing in the thorn-like pin prickles. the harsh amber reflecting in his fatigued, glassy eyes.

the ache serves as a reminder.

suguru figures that the sharp gnawing pain that spikes his heart & torments his throat is the very least he deserves.

his therapist did say he had a tendency to wallow in his self-destructive thoughts. delude himself & cyclically make bad choices which turned into bad habits. but what’s another bad decision to him? a pyromaniac to his very core; suguru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy playing with fire.

allowing himself a moment of respite, he fishes out a cigarette he stole out of shoko’s purse from the left pocket of his leather jacket. a silver heart-shaped vivienne westwood lighter in the right. he takes it out, rolling it softly in his warm palm, lackadaisically playing with the switch. imagining the cold metal were your cold hands instead, his own seeking to offer up warmth for your comfort. he gazes softly at the flame; flickering on and off. on and off. on and off. a burning fire reflected in his eyes. a burning desire razing his heart.

the whole world in the palm of his hands — the heart you presented to him.

(a gift from you to him — you begged him to quit smoking, it was bad for his health and you wanted him to be there in the future as best man at yours & satoru’s wedding. with a tight-lipped smile & crinkled eyes, he said he would.

always the deceiver.

you lit up, gaze softening while telling him to specifically use this lighter to light up the teakwood candle you bought him for his birthday. his smile turned fond, eyes crinkled softly with genuine mirth & adoration, he said he would. and he did.

always the sentimentalist.)

bringing the cigarette to his lips, he exhales a puff of smoke, allowing his low-lidded gaze to flit across the room. the warm lights illuminating the grungy bar, a favorite of nanami’s & shoko’s.

he reminisces on the days where both of you would talk for hours. from deep conversations about space, morality, your futures & pasts, to asking each other about what food you’d eat for eternity (cold zaru soba noodles for him, any form of potato for you), savory or sweet (both of you chose savory — suguru relishes in the fact that he has a connection with you on this), & if you two would still be best friends if the other one was a worm (both of you answered yes — you’d build a terrarium where wormguru could play & suguru would keep you in his pocket not caring if he’d be dubbed the weirdly hot worm-man.) from the serious to the silly, suguru felt his chest bloom with tender warmth. from the bottom of his heart, he knows that in this world and any others, he could truly be himself with you.

a soft sigh escapes him, a small smile gracing his face thinking about his memories with you. calling the bartender over for another drink after he downs his whiskey, he drawls out, “give me somethin’ sweet.”

he turns back around to the crowd of strangers, unintentionally smiling. he finds a few pretty boys & girls gawking at him, hyping themselves and each other up to go talk to him. he sees a few more pretty boys & girls looking away from his intense gaze, too shy to go up to him, praying instead that he’ll go to them.

the grin that previously took residence on his face falters. he finds himself upset that they’d think his smile was reserved for any one of them. none of them pique his interest per usual, & he hopes that the bags underneath his eyes, his myriad of piercings & tattoos, chipped black nail polish, and overall resting bitch face will stop anyone from coming near him.

(he knows it won’t. people often went after suguru and not satoru. he was always more caring, more in tune with his emotions with an air of magnetic mystique, unlike his brash, loud, & arrogant counterpart.)

suguru intakes a sharp breath, surprising himself with the haughty & bitter thought against his best friend, quickly washing it down with a sweet daiquiri hoping to honey the words in both his throat & mind, while simultaneously praying that it would soothe his heart.

slightly more alert, his gaze wanders around the room again. tired eyes widening slightly, lighting up greatly when he sees you.

there you were in all of your glory.

sitting leisurely, a leg swung upon the other, arm resting over the back of the tattered red vinyl couch, the very same one you both had countless conversations on. how were you so effortlessly cool? you could do anything and suguru would revel in it — drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

and like a moth, he found himself gliding across the bar towards you, his feet moving faster than his brain. his body demanding that it be near you, that it be graced with your presence. with a flick of his ring-clad fingers, his cigarette is crushed underneath his black boots. a piece of strawberry gum is popped inside his mouth along with another reapplication of vanilla lip balm to his lips to make sure that you knew they were soft to the touch.

with his heart beating ridiculously fast, he takes a deep breath before he stands in front of you, your perfume enveloping his senses making him slightly delirious from how delectable you smell. he prays that the blush dusting his cheeks fools you into thinking that he just drank too much; that it’s not because of you peering up at him through your lashes with your pretty eyes that are now affectionately directed towards his own.

“yo! suguru! long time no see!” you wave as you get up to greet him, a massive grin overtaking your face, eyes almost crinkled shut because you’re so excited to see one of your best friends.

without warning, suguru envelops you into a tight hug. his left hand placed against your lower back while his right hand cradles your head against his chest, your cheek pressing against his beating heart. suguru places his chin on the top of your head, craning his face slightly to get a whiff of your shampoo, ghosting a faint kiss on your hair that he knows you don’t feel, relishing in this moment with you. for a few seconds he can pretend… he deserves that much at least, he figures.

he could stay holding you in his arms forever, your body pressed up against his, protecting you from everything & everyone bad in this world, shielding you from predatory eyes around the bar. fucking wolves, the lot of them — suguru contemptuously thinks. it’s a good thing you’re here in his arms, suguru muses, confident in his ability to keep you safe.

as quickly as that thought dashes through his brain, you pull away. not wanting to alarm you with his panic that you’d leave him, a tight grip stays around your waist, forcing you to sit back down. he positions himself right next to you, his thighs touching your own, his right arm draped across your shoulder.

something that you can consider friendly.

something that he can consider more than that.

affectionate, no matter which way you take it.

“it’s been a while.” a fond smile beams across his face, bright amber eyes desperately glazing over your face. you’re so close to him and he’s so attentive to you, he imagines that the boy across the bar must think you both look like a couple. the pleasure suguru derives from that thought is second to none. you do look like you’d be his. he’s certain that he looks like he’d be yours, if his devoted nature is anything to go by.

he takes a a few strands of your hair, twirling them slightly around his fingers. “what are you doing here anyways? i wish i saw you before, we could’ve hung out!” suguru teasingly pouts, lips slightly jutted out, his eyes twinkling with playful mirth.

“tell me about it,” you playfully whine. “thankfully i just got here so we have plenty of time to hang out! don’t worry, i’ll make up for it so you can forgive me.”

“you never have to apologize for anything.” seriousness takes over his tone. suguru doesn’t want you to ever feel bad, even as a joke. not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his tense energy, he eases up his features and winks, “don’t worry your pretty little head about it, i’ll let you off the hook this time.”

you bark out a laugh which makes him elated, glad that he was able to make you smile. “sugu, you’re way too sweet! and ooh — you asked what i was doing here! toru wanted to chill out here for a bit, said if he didn’t get to drink a virgin piña colada right this second he’d faint.” you gaze around the bar, muttering under your breath, “he should be on his way here soon…”

right… satoru.

suguru feels his mouth get dry by the second, a venomous pang of guilt daggers his heart. his eye twitches along with his fingers, wondering if he should take his arm off of you.

if satoru saw this would he just consider it friendly touching? would he think that suguru was trying to make the moves on you? would he scream in his face about how can his best friend stab him in the back this way? the bitter taste of betrayal coats suguru’s tongue like a curse, and before he can do anything about it, a big SMACK! on his shoulder wakes him out of his trance.

“SUGUUUUUUUU! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!” satoru bursts out onto the scene loudly, holding both your & suguru’s shoulders from behind the couch, bringing you two towards each other in a massive hug. with satoru’s face in the middle, smooshing both of your & suguru’s cheeks against his, suguru can’t help but feel a gnawing sense of shame.

satoru, affectionate as ever, kisses you both on the cheek. snowy hair ruffling with his actions, aquamarine eyes twinkling as bright as starlight, white eyelashes fluttering against the pink blush hued upon his soft cheeks. from here, suguru can see the light dusting of freckles on satoru’s nose, & the lightest sheen of gloss on his pink lips. no doubt from kissing you before he got here.

a twisted part of suguru is thankful for the kiss on the cheek, your glossy residue imprinted on his skin. an indirect kiss, he muses.

“sorry it took so long, i had to park so far away. hope you didn’t miss me too much, angel.” satoru pecks you on the cheek again, cheekily stealing an upside down kiss on the lips from you while he’s at it.

“no worries baby, i had sugu to keep me company.” you smile wide, eyes softening as satoru smoothes down your hair.

suguru forgot.

satoru trusts him with his entire life. with you.

the loud, brash, arrogant, self-centered boy suguru knew as a teen had grown up. cleaning up his act the moment he met you. enamored with your beauty, kindness, & personable nature — satoru fell deeply in love. he was still loud, but only to proclaim his love on the rooftops for you. he was brash at times but never with you. his arrogance was also truly never unfounded, he was just that confident in his own self and in the relationship he could have with you. suguru still thinks satoru can be self-centered at times, but never about you.

satoru puts you forward in every single aspect of his life — devoted. loyal. faithful. unbelievably constant with his love & adoration for you. your perfect other half.

your true soulmate.

you’re his one and only. and he’s yours.

“satoru! it’s been a while.” suguru prays the loud music can cover up the slight crack in his voice. he can feel his throat constricting like a python, he coughs to clear it, wanting to rid himself of the strangling feeling. he does what he does best in that moment: putting on a facade. a tight-lipped smile along with crinkled eyes graces his features, and he hopes that both you & satoru mistake it for pure happiness.

“you good, man?” satoru tilts his head like a puppy, looking at him questioningly. you do the same, concern clouding your beautiful eyes. he’s terrified that you both could see right through him.

“yeah.” suguru whispers quietly.

the ache that torments his throat & spikes his heart serves as a reminder.

he puts his warm hand over your cold ones in a comforting gesture. for who would it bring solace? he doesn’t know. at this point in time, he can’t bring himself to care. “just the summer heat.”

he brushes his thigh against yours once again, fiddling with your fingers softly. he figures he can allow himself this.

glancing into your eyes, his reflection stares back him.

he accepts that living with this ache of shame & this disgusting sense of desire is the very least someone like him deserves.

he figures he should allow it to devour him.

[hello-eeveev]

scribbling of The Boy

idk why he looks like an emo kid but idc he’s cute :)

[trans-axolotl]

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

[stari-hun]

Rewatching Mouthwashing is so fun cause there's so many new things each time you get more context and awareness. Like there's so much foreshadowing and warning signs even down to like the psych eval proving that Jimmy was a completely incapable part of the staff. Curly is combative to the eval on his own just not wanting to open up about his feelings, a pretty common thing with patriarchy working against men's emotional state, but Jimmy actively renders Anya unable to do her job because he harasses her. It shows that he's a problem, and targets her specifically within the crew despite everyone else reasonably being standoffish with Daisuke who he readily accepted. I think the evals between them are really good foreshadowing I didn't notice at first, Curly has his own flaws but overall he fits the standards and expectations of a Captain, but Jimmy renders other people entirely unable to work because of his own incompetence and violence.

[borderlinereminders]

My psychiatrist appointment is tomorrow. The person who sent me to him suspects I have bipolar disorder. Fingers crossed because if he agrees, then there might be different meds that work better for me to balance the episodes out.

[moonlitmosss]

Some techno doodles (from my au)

[dykedvonte]

I also just realized that we really only get the 7 days before the crash to really see the people Curly and Anya were before the crash. It's not even the full seven days. We get the first two and the last two with a gap in the time for what could have gone down.

I just realized how vague it was and how quickly it all happened. They are such small moments and such short glimpses. She's only just told Curly two days before the crash. The next she told Jimmy and Curly had to confront him. It's further implied right after that conversation, Curly goes to collect himself and figure things out and Jimmy immediately crashes the ship, once he's far enough to not stop him, cause he knows Curly would never truly allow it to happen.

But he takes that as the okay to go ahead, because in the long time he's known Curly, that's always been the okay.

The difference in the gaps in the timeline really just paint a bigger less explained but more obvious picture.