#hallucinations
Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)
Tagging@ouatwinterwhump,@killian-whump,@sancocnutclub,@killianjonesownsmyheart1,@courtorderedcake,@facesiousbutton82<3
***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38HEREandHERE!!!!!!!!!*************
***Chapter 12 animationandart that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********
***LETHALChapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************
**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**
****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********
*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*
***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***
***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***
________________________________________________________________
Present (Saturday)…
In the presence of his Master, Killian lay inert.
There was no escape. Not ever.
No immunity, not in the end. He had resisted as long as he could. But now, he no longer had any control over his body. He could do nothing but lie helpless, paralyzed and at the mercy of the creature endlessly circling. Tapping that eerie cadence around and around, stopping only to prod at him, squeeze and pinch and crush. His ankle. His hand. His ribs.
Killian could not even scream anymore. Sometimes he felt on the verge of knowing why. The tentacle snaking down his throat did not truly hurt, though on occasion it inspired such panic that he would rather be dead than endure its presence any longer. Then the moment would pass, he would lose concentration and forget the invader, and try to beg an instant’s peace, and wonder why even the smallest hint of his pathetic pleas would not come forth.
YOU CAN NEVER BE FREE OF ME. I SHALL HAVE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY.
Yes, Master.
Had there truly been a time when that commanding voice held no sway? The mantra scripted, the despair half-pretend?
NO MATTER. SAY IT FOR ME AGAIN. FEED ME YOUR MISERY.
No hope.
IT IS REAL THIS TIME.
No hope.
THE BATTLE IS LOST.
No hope.
NO HOPE. NO HOPE, TRIPOD. NO HOPE FOR ANY OF YOU. KILLIAN.
Killian?
*****
Emma burst into the waiting lounge, cursing, her heart pounding as if she’d just sprinted up to the top of the clock tower. Of course they would page her as soon as she ran down to the cafeteria for five minutes; she should never have let her dad talk her into taking a snack break.
“Whale?” she called urgently even as she spotted the physician’s distinctive shock of bleached hair across the room. He had his feet up on a coffee table and looked even more haggard than before; apparently, the past 30 hours had been rough on him, as well. He did not get up when he heard his name, opting to merely wait until Emma had perched nervously on a chair nearby. Dr. Whale gave her a reserved smile before speaking.
“He’s out of surgery.”
For an instant, Emma thought she might black out from the relief. Whale rubbed at bloodshot eyes, continuing,
“We did everything we could for him, for now. His lung has been repaired, his shoulder reduced, and temporary closures provided for his other injuries; they’ll have to be addressed at a later date, when he’s stronger. He’s had probably a dozen units of blood and may require more over the coming days.”
Emma felt a hand on her shoulder and realized that her father must have cleared up quickly downstairs in order to be able to be with her, and then snuck in while her attention had been riveted on the physician’s words.
Whale sighed and stretched his neck.
“I’m not going to lie, Emma; he’s not out of the woods yet. He’ll need constant supervision in the Intensive Care Unit until we’re sure he won’t crash on us at any second. The biggest complication that we’re dealing with right now is the neurological condition which, I can’t even remember if I told you, has gotten exponentially worse since Wednesday.”
“The brain shriveling?” clarified David, and Whale nodded.
“The best thing for thatwould have been to keep him sedated while we work on a therapy, like we did for the others, but for some unknown reason, every sedative we’ve tried has only made everything worse. His blood pressure will fall, or he’ll develop an arrhythmia or respiratory depression or something else equally as dangerous. It’s totally bizarre, and none of the other slaves have reacted this way. Bottom line is, I don’t think it’s safe to keep throwing different sedatives at him and hoping one will stick. We’ll allow him to wake up and just try to keep him comfortable with painkillers.”
Around a lump in her throat, Emma managed to ask,
“But didn’t you say the brain condition is slowed down when they’re sedated?”
“I did,” shrugged Whale. “But faster brain deterioration will kill him slower than a clot caused by low BP would.”
Emma nodded slowly, the long list of threats to her husband’s life squeezing at her heart until she could not speak. Behind her, David quietly asked,
“What about something like total anesthesia? Would that slow the condition?”
“That would be even more risky than sedation,” explained Whale. “With general anesthesia, you always want to use the smallest dose for the shortest amount of time, otherwise all sorts of bad things can happen, from respiratory arrest to brain damage.”
A moment of heavy silence filled the room, uninterrupted by the background noises of the busy hospital. Then Emma squared her shoulders.
“So when can I see him?”
With great reluctance, Whale stood up, unfolding slowly like a man many years his senior.
“Let’s go,” he groaned. “He’s going to be disoriented at first; hopefully you can help with that.” He glanced at David, then back at Emma as he added,
“Only you, though. For the time being, at least.”
David caught Emma’s hand in a quick squeeze. “Give him our best.”
*****
His Master had its clawed hand around his arm, squeezing without involving any of its nails. It hurt the stake driven through his wrist. But that was, after all, its privilege.
Harder, Master. Take what you will. I am yours.
“Killian.”
Bloody hell. Swan was in the church. He could hear her. He could almost see her, if he tried hard enough to open his eyes and focus. Impossible!
I SHALL HAVE HER TOO.
No!
A piercing pinch. A whimper without sound.
Yes… Master…
*****
It could only be an extension of his Master’s recording experiment, but how it was supposed to succeed was utterly mystifying. Any little sound stalled before it even started, not just the screams he wanted to unleash. So how would his Master glean any sort of energy from him this way?
THAT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.
Killian’s elbow twitched and he felt an immediate jolt of stiff pain in his shoulder. He could not say when he’d been torn loose from his imprisonment, what almost certainly should have been the structure against which he’d breathed his last and surrendered his soul. The figment Emma was back, or perhaps had never left, though their Master had yet to make good on its threats against her. It must wish to drain the last remaining drops of scream energy from him first, wringing him out like a filthy, useless rag, scraping him down to the rind and then beyond.
She called to him. He could not acknowledge.
I AM HERE, insisted his Master. He felt it. Its marks of possession carved into his flesh. Unyielding limbs pinning him, holding him still.
Which of its appendages was slender enough to slip inside a nostril? Killian had no recollection of that particular trick.
“Hold still–”
DO NOT MOVE, TRIPOD.
Something twitched deep down inside his chest, sparking a powerful urge to retch. The Master’s device between his teeth confirmed itself as not-tentacle by its texture and flaccid presence, no roiling, pulsating muscle beneath its rubbery exterior, and yet it began moving again, this time sliding up his throat and exiting in one long, slippery slither, its tip scraping irritated muscle as it went.
Gagging hurt, but coughing was worse.
“Breathe,” urged many voices, Emma’s and at least one other. Z, if she weren’t dead and could speak. Or maybe it was only after death that she would.
FILL THOSE LUNGS WITH SCREAMS.
*****
When Dr. Whale had first led Emma inside, she would have sworn it was the wrong room. Her emaciated husband was simply unrecognizable, even compared to what she’d seen of him the day before. Discolored, withered, and limp, taped and wrapped, sickly pale skin free of dirt but painted with a sheen of sweat. After so many situations just like this, she probably should be at least somewhat accustomed to all of the gadgets necessary for life support, but they shocked her every time. Whale’s team had at least traded the I/O line for a more long-term central line, which she knew would cut down on the number of needle sticks necessary for blood sampling and the like.
Emma sighed. He was going to hate this. He always did, but now the parallels to his time as the Vocivore’s slave–not in control of much of anything, feeling trapped and helpless–would make it that much worse. Not to mention the damage to his hand that would take away all autonomy.
Well, she told herself, it was a miracle he was even around to hate it. And besides, it would be different this time. Magic would return soon; it had to. And then, even if she couldn’t heal everything completely, she might be able to shorten his length of stay in his least favorite place.
No, she realized. She now knew of several places that would rank lower than this.
“Killian?” she called again, tenderly stroking his bony arm. In the 15 minutes she had been with him, he had showed some brief flashes of near-awareness: slight limb movements, fluttering of his eyelids, minute grimaces eliciting pangs of sympathy within her. In response to her voice, his heart rate would pick up momentarily, though it was difficult to tell whether that was from glad recognition or startled anxiety. In between, however, he would settle back into a frightening stillness that only the monitors proved could not be death.
A few minutes ago, a couple of nurses had removed the endotracheal tube from his throat after Whale had declared him stable enough to breathe on his own. The bout of choking that followed was painful to watch, but Killian still seemed mostly out of it as they attached an oxygen mask to his battered face. His eyes fluttered briefly open but did not focus before slipping closed. Since then, it was back to nothing again.
Whale appeared beside her and leaned over Killian in order to have a listen to both lungs.
“He’ll come around in his own time,” he assured Emma. “This is not unusual after such extensive surgery.”
*****
Something had changed.
The paving stone had warmed, softening into something almost comfortable, a concept so unfamiliar as to be suspicious. The persistent cooing from up above mingled with an utter cacophony of bewildering sounds, none of which belonged to any reality within the horribly familiar confines of the sanctuary. And the light touch on his arm, the gentle stroking along intact flesh… for the first time, it was not altogether unpleasant. Which would only confirm what he no longer feared: total, unreserved surrender.
Does it please you, my Master?
The end of the deception and the fight.
IT IS GOOD.
He could feel it prodding at his chest with its cold, unyielding legs. He did not pull away. No horror stirred his heart, though he knew it wanted something of him.
WAKE UP.
More places were being petted, encircled, or invaded than his Master had limbs to account for; nothing made sense. And why was it insisting he wake up when he was already awake? Perhaps he could appease it with a groan.
Killian coughed. His whole throat felt raw as if acid slime had eroded all the tissue away.
I may no longer have any screams to give.
His ankle spasmed. Stabbing, burning cramps spread up his wrist from an oddly immobile hand. But his Master seemed unfazed by the revelation and continued its touching.
“Please–OPEN YOUR EYES–Killian. It’s time–YOU MUST WAKE–wake up now.”
The babbling had returned, voices on top of voices, all begging to be heard amidst the rolling of whitecaps pitching the floor into sudden, violent motion, squashing him down as though he weighed a thousand pounds, and in an instant, Killian was retching like the greenest of new recruits on their first day at sea.
If he’d thought coughing hurt, his stomach trying to eject what wasn’t there took that pain and magnified it a hundredfold.
“…Pretty common, too, after anesthesia…”
Shut the hell up, Whale, and let a man die in agonized peace.
HE WON’T ASPIRATE WITH THE NG TUBE CLEARING HIS STOMACH.
“Trust me.”
His Master’s suit had turned white.
The bucking slowed, gravity returning to normal from his feet upwards. Killian’s eyes were watering in lights far too bright and colorless, lacking any hint of refracted hue.
It wasn’t a white suit. A white coat.
“Killian?”
Tilting his neck even the slightest degree seemed to drive iron stakes all around its perimeter. Killian blinked away the tears into which his Master’s image had dissolved, leaving behind only smeared shapes and hazy colors as it bellowed a whisper,
I REMAIN.
His first in-focus sight had to be of bloody Whale, leaning over him in professional study. But the physician’s voice hadn’t been the only one to blend with the Vocivore’s menace.
“Swan?” he mumbled, almost noiseless, and promptly gagged. What he’d taken for a tentacle tightened on his arm in trembling reassurance.
“I’m here, Killian.” She moved into his field of vision and his weary eyes looked into her face, desperate for the calm that only she could provide. “You’re safe; you’re at the hospital. You made it.”
Though his vision remained blurred and unsteady, there was no mistaking the relief on her face, nor the steady stream of tears coursing down her cheeks as she tried to smile.
Sudden, paralyzing panic overtook him; he could not remember… his Master, it was there, always there, but beyond its looming presence… only fragments. A life. Such a precious life… and a corpse…
“Wh…” he tried, then, “H…”
“Don’t try to talk just yet,” interjected the bothersome physician. “You had a tube down your throat to help you breathe, and there still a smaller one going down into your stomach to help with nausea and for feeding later.”
The majority of Whale’s words got lost in the storm clouds of confusion and worry, and Killian chose to ignore the rest. But moving to keep Emma in view brought a wave of such intense pain that the room lights went out and a high-pitched, pressurized buzzing filled his ears.
“For the love of God, Hook,” Dr. Whale was saying, muffled at first but slowly clearer as Killian’s senses returned. “Hold still; there’s about 101 places you could tear open and we just finished putting you back together.”
Killian could only gulp unsatisfying breaths under the weight of the several cannonballs that seemed to be piled on his chest. In a much more patient tone, Emma pleaded,
“Try and relax, Killian; everything is fine. Hope is fine. The monster is dead. There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
Hope. It was Hope, the corpse. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead. Emma was saying one thing, but he saw another. Hope dead. Maybe Emma didn’t know. So many terrifying scenes jumbled in his head. So much screaming and pain and despair. And Hope’s corpse, there among the flashes. The wounds were real. The Master was real. But Hope dead was not?
How would he ever be certain?
Emma’s touch; that felt real. Whale and his lackeys, as they performed their checks and asked questions he could not possibly comprehend… less so, but then again, their knowledge struck him as far beyond anything he could ever conjure.
Whence came the corpses?
I HAVE CONSUMED THEIR SCREAMS. THEY ARE DEPLETED.
His Master once again circled his bed. And Killian closed his eyes. Resigned to the torture.
*****
Emma watched her husband slip back into a troubled slumber and scrubbed at her face. The brief moment of clarity had been equally as encouraging as heartbreaking. He knew her; that was certain, and momentarily seemed to soothe at her touch, but the long periods of terrified delirium before and after had been difficult to stomach. Not to mention the apparent anguish that any small movement caused him.
Whale finished scribbling a progress note and pursed his lips. “Well, that went about as well as could have been expected. His neuro scores are encouraging, so we don’t have to be as concerned about hypoxic brain injury.”
Clearing her throat, Emma resumed resting her hand on Killian’s arm. Whether or not he consciously felt her presence, subconsciously she had to believe that she could provide a bit of a buffer between him and his nightmares. “Sure didn’t last long.”
“Combination of post-anesthesia and his pain meds. Really, sleep is the best thing for him, as long as it stays peaceful like this.” He checked a readout on the complicated IV pump and made a quick adjustment. “It’ll probably be like this the first few times. You may have to keep reminding him where he is and all that; he might not remember each time he wakes up. By tomorrow morning, I’d expect him to seem more alert and possibly stay awake for longer periods of time.”
The physician yawned and did not even seem sorry. “It’s going to be another long night, Emma. People in and out frequently. You’re welcome to stay, but no one would be surprised if you decided to go home for a couple hours’ sleep.”
Emma shook her head. “I need to be here for him.”
“Your choice.” He headed for the door. “Don’t hesitate to call someone if you have any questions or concerns.”
After he left, Emma watched Killian breathe, reassured by the small cloud of condensation that formed on the inside of his mask each time he exhaled. Then she composed a quick update to her father; she knew he would take care of spreading the word to everyone else waiting for news. That accomplished, she settled in for her lonely vigil.
Killian had endured a month’s worth of little to no rest, and low-quality sleep when he could get it. Compared to that, three or four nights of watching at his bedside was nothing.
________________________________________________________________
Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748730/chapters/66022876
Prompt: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day; Forced to Beg, Hallucinations, Shoot the Hostage
Fandom/OC: Original Work
TW: swearing, dehumanization, death mention, knives, blood, child abuse, guns, broken bones
Not sure if I should get rid of the title “Goodbye Dante”. I mean it’s not like he’s completely dormant anymore but he’s not fully present either. I think I’ll wait just to make sure he isn’t just a symptom of psychosis. Since he’s been back I’ve been hallucinating just a little so… We’ll see.
Been losing so much time. Thursday was a continuation of Wednesday. It was Wednesday until it was Friday. There was no Thursday. But it was Wednesday that didn’t start until Thursday. The Thursday that never happened. We probably shouldn’t have Ativan anymore. I forget that We used to black out from Ativan and alcohol. Maybe We are more sensitive in our current condition. We had the outsider hold on to our Ativan for us. Because We knew that We couldn’t trust ourself in the state We’ve been in. Yesterday We asked him for our medicine. He said He gave it to us and that We said that We didn’t need him to hold on to it anymore because We wouldn’t need it anymore…???!!! It wasn’t Teen. It wasn’t Animal. It wasn’t Malice and it sure as fuck wasn’t The Gobos! So who was it? We suffered full amnesia! This isn’t our norm or at least it hasn’t been in a long time. And We’ve been hallucinating. Full, head on hallucinations. That is also not our norm. Not since We were a child. Visual, auditory and tactile hallucinations. We look at our “Trip Check Painting” and the shadows move like We’re on LSD. But We haven’t taken LSD in about a week. We don’t know what this means. But it seems like when We push and stress for an entire semester, by the end of it, something happens to our mental state. We pushed ourself hard, not even this hard but hard enough to cause a state of psychosis in 2019. The last day of class or the very next day, don’t clearly remember, Teen tried to kill the vessel. It was a very serious attempt. And he very nearly succeeded. Was almost rushed to another hospital for a liver transplant but our levels suddenly started coming down. Waking up in the hospital… Never hallucinated that bad in our entire life. A dark shaking figure stood in the corner of our “room”. The walls had weird writing all over them and were moving. Everything had a yellow tint to it.
We are not suicidal. But We are not okay. We do not believe that We are a risk to ourself or anyone else. Other than a possible accidental overdose! That Ativan shit is scary! If We try really hard, We can see someone dropping one of the pills in the trash accidentally then popped the last… 3??? In our mouth. If there were more in there We don’t know if, whoever that was, would have taken all of it.
We did well in Music Theory 101. We did not great at all on our project but ended up getting a 90 on it! Our average was an 89 but when We checked, our overall grade is a 99 point… Something. Can’t really remember but a fucking 99??!! How? Since March We’ve been doing horribly! When We submitted our final project We also wrote a little over 300 words vaguely explaining why We submitted such hot garbage. He wrote back telling me that he thought We were doing well and that he could tell how much work We put in all of our work. After our presentation he clapped…??? We thought he was gonna be like, “Wtf is this?” Even though he did let us know where We fucked up he still seemed to understand that We did know the material We were just having a bad time. None of us saw that coming.
So why are We starting to spiral? Is this just what a burnout feels like for us now? Is there something seriously wrong? We don’t know yet. Hopefully this fades with some rest.
Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection
✏ Purchase
Hardcover edition released in October 2018. Combines volumes 9 and 16 of THWOJI (Hallucinasions and Frankenstein), but does not include the short A Shit to Remember.
01.Frankenstein
02.Neck Specter(Hallucinations)
03.Bog of Living Spirits
04.Pen Pal
05.Intruder
06.The Strange Tale of Oshikiri
07.The Strange Tale of Oshikiri: The Walls
08.The Hell of the Doll Funeral
09.Face Firmly in Place (The Fixed Face)
10.Boss Non-non
11.Hide-and-Seek with Boss Non-non
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fyi to yall in quarantine whos grasp on reality is getting a little slippery: isolation, intense boredom, stress and lack of positive routine are absolutely contributing factors to exacerbating psychosis and psychosis-adjacent disorders, even latent ones. im not saying this to fearmonger im saying it so u can recognise it and take steps to handle it especially if it induces your first ever episode.
some warning signs can include
- starting to believe unusual things that you previously did not believe (e.g. living in a simulation / you or others around you not being real / secretly being in hell or dead / otherworldly beings communicating with you somehow / government conspiracies / everyone around you is out to get you and harboring ill intent)
- seeing things youre pretty sure arent there (e.g. shadow people, floating lights, stationary objects moving on their own, animals in a house that doesnt have pets)
- hearing things (e.g. murmured voices, occasional clear and loud voices, faint music, scratching sounds, any without a source)
- feeling a sense of dread or generalised paranoia, a sense that you are being watched or that something terrible is looming on the horizon but you dont know what
- having extra trouble putting your thoughts in order and speaking coherently, cannot concentrate, space out to the point of feeling slightly catatonic
those most at risk are anyone with a family history of this vein of mental illness as well as those using certain drugs to get through the tedium of quarantine - if this is you, its best to research whether the substances youre using have documented links to triggering episodes of psychosis in users. weed is included in this, not just psychoactive drugs.
here are some steps you can take to get a handle on the situation if your grasp on reality is slipping like this and you cant access irl mental health resources.
- have a routine. this is vitally important - you need structure. set an alarm for a specific time every day, even though you have nowhere to be. give yourself a bedtime. eat 2 meals a day, at least, at regular times.
- leave the house. no, i dont mean Go Out, just be outside for a while every day or two. go for a walk if you can. stand outside your house for 15 minutes paying attention to the cars and the birds and the breeze and the clouds if you cant. really observe your surroundings. get sunlight.
- on that note - let as much natural light into your house as possible during waking hours. your circadian rhythm needs it.
- take up some form of hobby that requires physical engagement - whether thats journaling, drawing, making origami, gardening, cooking. the point of this is to ground yourself in your body and the world around you, have an affect on your surroundings, and stimulate your brain.
- dont dwell on your delusions, hallucinations or distressing trains of thought if you can help it. that isnt to say “snap out of it and just dont have symptoms”, but rather accept them without either judging them or overindulging in them. observe them as they happen, accept that they happen, and let it go, if you can. you may not be able to control the experiences, but you can control how you react to them, and the best case scenario is not allowing them to overwhelm your thoughts and your days. this is much easier said than done, especially if the experiences are distressing in nature, but the aim is to sever the feedback loop that causes further stress and thus further bad extrasensory experiences.
this is honestly just a basic surface scratch of advice though bc im by no means an expert, just someone w latent psychosis who used to work in the field for a while. there are tons of resources online by others who have experienced psychosis that can be a huge help if u think you might be at risk due to the stress, boredom and uncertainty of quarantine
Good, actionable advice. My own issues are in the depression and anxiety side of things, but this is also something to watch out for.
Yes yes yes to all of this.
Also – pro tip if you think you’re having visual or auditory hallucinations: use your phone to record what you’re seeing/hearing. Then you can review the playback yourself, or send it to a friend who can tell you “Nope, nothing there, you’re good.”
Great, useful info. Check our Psychosis tag for more on the topic, including more about that last camera trick.
The Uninvited (2009)
fyi to yall in quarantine whos grasp on reality is getting a little slippery: isolation, intense boredom, stress and lack of positive routine are absolutely contributing factors to exacerbating psychosis and psychosis-adjacent disorders, even latent ones. im not saying this to fearmonger im saying it so u can recognise it and take steps to handle it especially if it induces your first ever episode.
some warning signs can include
- starting to believe unusual things that you previously did not believe (e.g. living in a simulation / you or others around you not being real / secretly being in hell or dead / otherworldly beings communicating with you somehow / government conspiracies / everyone around you is out to get you and harboring ill intent)
- seeing things youre pretty sure arent there (e.g. shadow people, floating lights, stationary objects moving on their own, animals in a house that doesnt have pets)
- hearing things (e.g. murmured voices, occasional clear and loud voices, faint music, scratching sounds, any without a source)
- feeling a sense of dread or generalised paranoia, a sense that you are being watched or that something terrible is looming on the horizon but you dont know what
- having extra trouble putting your thoughts in order and speaking coherently, cannot concentrate, space out to the point of feeling slightly catatonic
those most at risk are anyone with a family history of this vein of mental illness as well as those using certain drugs to get through the tedium of quarantine - if this is you, its best to research whether the substances youre using have documented links to triggering episodes of psychosis in users. weed is included in this, not just psychoactive drugs.
here are some steps you can take to get a handle on the situation if your grasp on reality is slipping like this and you cant access irl mental health resources.
- have a routine. this is vitally important - you need structure. set an alarm for a specific time every day, even though you have nowhere to be. give yourself a bedtime. eat 2 meals a day, at least, at regular times.
- leave the house. no, i dont mean Go Out, just be outside for a while every day or two. go for a walk if you can. stand outside your house for 15 minutes paying attention to the cars and the birds and the breeze and the clouds if you cant. really observe your surroundings. get sunlight.
- on that note - let as much natural light into your house as possible during waking hours. your circadian rhythm needs it.
- take up some form of hobby that requires physical engagement - whether thats journaling, drawing, making origami, gardening, cooking. the point of this is to ground yourself in your body and the world around you, have an affect on your surroundings, and stimulate your brain.
- dont dwell on your delusions, hallucinations or distressing trains of thought if you can help it. that isnt to say “snap out of it and just dont have symptoms”, but rather accept them without either judging them or overindulging in them. observe them as they happen, accept that they happen, and let it go, if you can. you may not be able to control the experiences, but you can control how you react to them, and the best case scenario is not allowing them to overwhelm your thoughts and your days. this is much easier said than done, especially if the experiences are distressing in nature, but the aim is to sever the feedback loop that causes further stress and thus further bad extrasensory experiences.
this is honestly just a basic surface scratch of advice though bc im by no means an expert, just someone w latent psychosis who used to work in the field for a while. there are tons of resources online by others who have experienced psychosis that can be a huge help if u think you might be at risk due to the stress, boredom and uncertainty of quarantine
An interest in Gothic shit is a sign of creativity, sensitivity and intelligence, not mental illness and I know people can ruffle at that stereotype. Still, there is a notable overlap between gothy people and people dealing with mental illness(es) and this is so well-written and helpful.
[one page WIP, 12/10/21]
should we add another page?
It has been a few months since you passed, but it has only been a week - maybe two - since I stopped seeing you out of the corner of my eye, since your shining face has ceased gracing my first glance around corners, since I last hallucinated your shape reclining in the morning sun. I understand that means that my brain has finally habituated to your absence, that to me, even in the deep-scatter - in fractious nebulae of my reality - you are truly gone. Silence triumphs over the echo, as it always must. But I know too that the souls of cats are special, that their destinies are mysterious, and that the paths they walk are inscrutable and ever-branching. I will look for you, Macy, my familiar, where the lensing of the light reveals what is obscured, where the Eldritch Things roam, when the Moon shakes and bellows and bares her teeth. ❤️❤️❤️.
.
.
.
#cat #familiar #loss #love #hallucinations #queen #gaywitch #queerwitch #witchcraft #witch #warlock #reflection #meditation #contemplation #devotion #eldritch #imissyou (at Ardmore, Pennsylvania)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B87OawhHFTa/?igshid=ejmcsffkhvtd
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psychosis ≠ schizophrenia
psychosis does not equal schizophrenia
psychosis ≠ schizophrenia
psychosis does not equal schizophrenia
[id: a set of three nearly identical images of a pink hand holding a pink heart, over a pastel purple-to-pink gradient background. they are drawn in a simple, slightly pixellated style. each one has pixellated pink text that reads, “psychotic people deserve love,” “psychotic people deserve comfort,” and “psychotic people deserve safety,” in that order. end id.]
made these because i felt down, this cheered me up <3 i am not very good with words but i hope these might cheer up some other psychotic people too ^^
Brugmansia is in the Tomato family, Solanaceae. They are closely related to another genus, Datura, and both share the same common name of “Angels Trumpet”. Brugmansia is extremely poisonous, and can cause severe hallucinations and violent convulsions! Parts of the plant have been used by South American tribes for both divination rituals and black magic! Follow for more plant facts and photos! #growbotany #plantscience #dailyplantfacts #brugmansia #solanaceae #tomato #plants #botany #datura #angelstrumpet #wickedllants #poison #hallucinations #flowers #gardens #ucbotanicalgardens
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Who needs love when you got drugs.
First Ever Body Maps of Hallucinations Created
Researchers have created the first body map of sensations experienced during hallucinations in people not experiencing psychosis.
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hey since I just told a friend this and they found it helpful: if you’re having hallucinations and are having trouble distinguishing what’s real and what’s not, use your phone’s camera and take a picture of the thing you might be hallucinating. cameras don’t hallucinate.
hey maybe reblog this for other neurodivergent people to see please?
sometimes ur own hallucinations may show up on camera or on a recording if its an auditory hallucination, so if ur unsure and have someone you trust, you can try sending the picture or recording to them and asking them what they see/hear too!!
I’ve only ever had like three or four instances of visual hallucinations but a friend who has them regularly
says that the way she checks is that she takes off her glasses, and if the image is still in perfect focus, that’s a hallucination
that might not work for everyone, but it might be helpful for some!
When I thought I was hearing a roommate/family member in the next room and thought they were talking to me, and couldn’t tell if they were actually in there or not and if they were actually saying those things (and usually the things they were saying were pretty bizarre and mean), if I put on headphones and blasted music and could still hear them clearly then I could tell it wasn’t them and I was hallucinating (so bascially similar to the eyeglasses post above, but on the auditory side of things). Headphones and music are great for fact-checking or for helping to block the quieter things out.
these r all gr8
I have auditory hallucinations. This seems like an obvious tip, but music helps
Brains are weird and amazing, and sometimes when they’re tricking you you can trick them back
There are surely more reality-check brain hacks in the notes for this post, so do a lil digging and see if you find one that’s a good fit for you.
i know I said I was going to bed but also I just wanted to reblog this cuz it’s useful information and all that.
I don’t have hallucinations but I think these tips are helpful for people who do
Your whumpee is so tired they start hallucinating figures from their past… as it continues on, recent friends also join the mirages to torment A during their isolation.
The torturer keeps A awake for as long as possible; delighting in the terrified delusions and erratic behaviour occurring within the cell.
psychosis - abnormal condition of mind
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This is psychosis
This is the jigsaw blown apart
#iamx
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Night after night,
I close my eyes,
Just to wake up
In a different place
In a different memory
Jacopo Tintoretto, ‘Miracle of St. Mark: The Discovery of the Saint’s Body,’ 1562-1566, Pinacoteca di Brera
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Day 15: Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever
CW:Injuries, blood, hallucinations, delirium
Summary:Eleven’s not feeling so good after escaping capture with some pretty bad injuries to show for it.
Word count: 776
Day Two of being lost in the Heliodoran wilderness had gone about as good as Day One, if not a little worse.
For one, Eleven had stopped bleeding, although that did not prevent him from being terrified that he was still going to die.
He had never gone this long without healing magic nor a stable food supply. He guessed that, at his pace, he was making it about ten miles every day when he wanted to be going forty. It didn’t help that he was still pretty badly injured, with little more than the clothing on his back, the waterskin he’d snatched, and any random items he found in the wilderness that he thought might be useful, like berries.
He would have searched for the camp from before if he thought he could find it but backtracking in this snowy weather seemed like a bad idea.
He set out early the next morning, aiming for a leisurely, forgiving pace, although the fresh scars on his face felt like they were going to pop and start bleeding any moment. “Any progress is good progress.” That sounded like something Chalky had said once.
El licked his lips as his knees wobbled. He moved slowly through the underbrush— he was fortunate that most monsters scattered upon first sight of him though he still ached for a sword.
At some point, Eleven’s head began to pitch to one side. He stretched out his arms and caught himself before he’d fallen head-first into the dirt, landing on his knees instead, black spots clouding his vision.
Goddess, he was starting to see things. His eyes blurred and refocused on the foliage in front of him, reading a pair of shoes before they sharpened into browning leaves again.
Eleven rubbed the side of his face and pulled his hand away, seeing blood. His mind raced. Had he hit his head?
He yanked a strip of cloth from his pocket and dabbed at his face. The cloth came out a shock of red.
Panic coursed through him.
Calm down. Calm down. So the scabbing isn’t going so well. It’s fine. You’re still breathing. You’re still bleeding. No, breathing.
He shook his head and kept the cloth pinned to the spot that was bleeding as he walked onward. Now was not the time to be losing hope. He’d just become lunch for a hungry monster if he stayed out here much longer.
His thoughts became more nonsensical the longer he went until eventually he just stared at the brown strip of a dirt path in front of him, all other thoughts having left his mind. He didn’t remember when he’d found the path and didn’t know where the snow went. He just knew his feet inched forward on it and that his side screamed, hot and itchy, possibly of an infected wound.
When a hand tapped his shoulder, he jerked backward and almost fell again. A stranger grabbed him by his shoulders to steady him.
“Goddess! What happened to yourface?”
The stranger’s voice came out garbled, half sensical. Eleven looked up and frowned.
A tall man stood in front of him. He had some facial hair, although it blurred together on his face. Eleven pitched to one side again, leaning on the arms that anchored him.
The man gestured ahead. “Let me help you, ya poor thing!”
Eleven was in no state to refuse, so he bowed his head and followed. He was getting too good at following other people around.
The man had a carriage with one horse and a stack of hay bales in the back. He helped Eleven onto them and gestured for him to lay down, promising they were only a little distance from his home.
Eleven’s head exploded with pain as soon as he lay down, the scratchy hay working underneath his shirt to poke at his wounded side. It felt like a cruelcumber was stabbing him — both there and at his forehead.
The cart started moving, its creaky wooden wheels rolling across dirt. Adrenaline kept Eleven awake even though he was exhausted enough to sleep for days, his eyes fluttering closed as he stared at trees that twisted into figures and heard sounds he knewweren’t really there but still paralyzed him with fear.
Low-Key Hallucinations
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#lowkey #hallucinations #stone #motion #design #abstraction #c4d #octane @xuxoe @motiondesigners @motiongraphics_collective #mgcollective #mdcommunity #xuxoe #trippy #aaronkaufman #mtl #rnd #digitalart #loop #satisfying #sculpture #kineticart @howiseedatworld (at Montreal, Quebec)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CEY7CY4nIxD/?igshid=1vfuz0cf7spcd
Low-Key Hallucinations
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#lowkey #hallucinations #particles #liquid #motion #design #auracleansing #abstraction #c4d #octane I @xuxoe @motiondesigners @motiongraphics_collective #mgcollective #mdcommunity #xuxoe #trippy #aaronkaufman #mtl #rnd (at Montreal, Quebec)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CC6ZIr7nsTm/?igshid=ap20p7iwbbcu
TW: pet whump, dehumanization, heat stroke, heat exhaustion, conditioning, rescue, careless whumper, environmental whump, locked in a hot car, hallucinations, delirium
Tagging:@sideblogformindtrash@unicornscotty@tears-and-lilies@getyourwhumphere@cupcakes-and-pain@twistedcaretaker@heathenville@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@cowboy-anon@springwoodscagedbird@thelazywitchphotographer
Heat of Summer
It was such a perfect day, not too warm but no longer as chilly as it had been the past few weeks. Niner lay happily sprawled out on the lawn, soaking up the warm spring sun. The door leading to the backyard opened and the greatest master and owner in the whole world came out of the house. It made the pet grin and scramble up out of the soft grass and crawl over happily.
“Hi Master!” Niner said warmly, pure admiration soaking the two simple words.
“Hey K-9, wanna go to the store with me?” Hayes asked, only now glancing up from his phone.
An eager nod quickly followed from the boy, he loved going on trips no matter how long or short. Soon enough Hayes had gotten the harness on him and they were walking to the car. He tugged eagerly on the lead, nearly dragging his owner to the car.
“Alright, alright. Relax!” Hayes snapped and yanked sharply on the harness, knocking Niner off balance and scraping up his hands and knees.
“I'm…I’m sorry, Master.” Niner said miserably, his heart hurt.
“Whatever, get in the car.” A scowl on Hayes’ face as he opened the car door.
Niner climbed in, curling up on the floor of the backseat, taking up as little room as he could in an attempt to make Hayes happy with him again.
The ride was bumpy, making the pet happy he couldn’t see out the window, it would’ve made him sick and that would’ve made his owner even more upset with him.
The car came to a stop and Hayes got out, the automatic locks engaged. Niner began to paw at the door, sitting up on his knees and watching his beloved owner walk into the store without him. A sad whine escaped his throat, he wanted to go with him.
Minutes passed, it started to get warmer in the car which made the pet start to sweat. Time seemed to drag on and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or if the car seemed to warm up even more. He wanted to be good still, be perfect for the most perfect person in the world. Even though his brain was simple, he was beginning to struggle to think the most basic thoughts.
“Master?” He asked to the nothingness of the car interior.
“Yes I’m being good, just like you told me to be.” Niner said warmly, despite being alone.
He looked up at the window, sweat now pouring down his face and arms, it made him giggle. It was like a nice swim in the pool, the water cool against his skin and the warm sun overhead kept him comfortable and cozy.
The car door opened and cool air rushed in, hands grabbing his body and moving him. He laughed and couldn’t understand the silly words the blurry faces around him said.
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“What the fuck in wrong with you?! You left your pet in the car on the hottest day of the year so far??!” The woman who’d dragged Niner from the car snapped at Hayes.
“I didn’t think it was that hot. It’s only spring,” Hayes said, clearly annoyed.
“Yeah and you could’ve killed him!” She yelled as Niner sang complete nonsense that no longer even sounded like words.
“Ugh relax, he’ll be fine.” The man snapped back.
The woman rolled her eyes and doused Niner’s body and face with cool water to bring his temperature down to something more reasonable. She really didn’t want to send the poor pet with this awful man.
Psychologists create first-ever body-maps of hallucinations
Leicester psychologists have, for the first time, created body-maps of the sensations which arise during hallucinations in people experiencing psychosis.
The study, published in The Lancet’s EClinicalMedicine, provides the most extensive descriptive data to date on the feelings which arise during hallucinations and where individuals reported sensations in the body. University of Leicester researchers also studied the emotions reported during hallucinations, with confusion, fear and frustration being the most common.
Although there was great variation in the localisation of feelings across participants, for each individual feelings were recurrently concentrated in particular body areas. Areas of concentration often held repeated sources of feelings like pain, heat, or tension.
Dr Katie Melvin, of the Department of Neuroscience, Psychology and Behaviour at the University of Leicester and corresponding author for the study, said: “During a systematic review of existing research, we found indicators of the contributions that multiple senses, emotions and feelings may make to hallucinations.
“We designed a study and developed the novel but simple multimodal unusual sensory experience (MUSE) map method to investigate these features further. MUSE maps involve documenting hallucinations in daily life and include body-mapping. The article shares new insights through body-maps and data on the immediate feeling of hallucinations.
“The range of feelings in the body and around the body (into peri-personal space) were particularly interesting. Participants often described that the method helped them share experiences that were difficult to put into words.
“The methods and outcomes of this study can contribute to advances on how we understand hallucinations and how we can support people who experience them. The next steps for this area of research will be further understanding the embodiment and feeling of hallucinations in different populations and developing interventions to support with this.”
Psychosis is a term which describes experiences where an individual may have difficulties in determining what is real and what is not real.
Research indicates psychosis is associated with experiencing trauma, adverse life events, and stress. People may be given a diagnosis such as schizophrenia. Experiences of perceiving or believing things which those around us do not can also occur in physical health conditions such as brain tumours or acute infections.
Psychosis can have serious adverse outcomes on individuals including distress, lack of sleep, social withdrawal, lack of motivation, difficulties in carrying out daily activities, experiences of discrimination and lost opportunities.
Participants in this study were asked by the research team to prospectively document the feeling and senses of hallucinations for one week prior to an interview.
Novel visual diary methods involving drawing, writing and body-mapping generated 42 MUSE maps, which set out the specific areas across the body – and beyond, in so-called peripersonal space – where participants experienced sensations during hallucinations.
The study found that hallucinations were characterised by numerous feelings arising at once, often including multisensory, emotional, and embodied features. Researchers suggest further uptake of visual, ecological and prospective methods may enhance understandings of lived experiences of hallucinations.
January 17, 1900: The Yaqui declare their independence from Mexico. The peyote-using natives also said they wanted independence from “all these damn snakes and bats."
