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maniacwatchestheworld · 4 months

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This isn't meant as an indictment of you as a person but ngl your last post reads pretty ableist. The inability to empathize with people doesn't make someone 'evil' or 'villainous', it doesn't mean that a person with that condition is heartless and can't possibly be sad about their friends getting hurt or dying etc or that it's better if they were 'just tsundere about it'. An inability to (fully) empathize with people can also be a symptom of different 'disorders' and can be a trait of autism too, it's not unlikely that a person with npd and presumably some other form of neurodivergency might have that symptom. It doesn't mean that someone with that trait doesn't or can't care at all, it's just in a different way, and even if that person couldn't care at all that still doesn't make them more evil somehow. I know you probably didn't intend your post to come across that way but it kind of did so I figured I'd let you know

Nods nods. I see. I see. I will definitely try to keep this in mind in the future. But I do think that you misunderstood what I was actually meaning with my post. I wasn't using the term "psychopath" flippantly. I wasn't using the term to be synonymous with "evil" or "villainous" and this was not a case of me armchair diagnosing Eddie with an inability to feel empathy either. I wasn't looking at the Riddler's actions in this podcast and going, "He isn't reacting properly to these scenarios, therefore he must be a psychopath!" I am going to assume that you haven't listened to The Riddler: Secrets in the Dark, because I am not pulling the idea that Eddie is a psychopath in this series out of nowhere. Throughout the podcast, several times Eddie is persistently telling people that he does not care that his friends are dying, that he is only trying to solve these murders because he himself is in danger, and that he is incapable of feeling sad over the idea of people dying! Over and over he emphasizes that he does not feel sorry for their loss and that saying that he is would be lying. The podcast itself was saying over and over that Eddie is incapable of feeling empathy! I'm just trying to use the term that describes what they were very clearly going for! (Which, if there's a different, more preferred term, I would be very grateful to know so that I can change my language in the future!)

Eddie IS neurodivergent. And I would very much expect for him to react to his friends dying in a way that others might think is strange. But at the same time, I would not describe most iterations of the Riddler to be lacking in empathy to a psychopathic degree. But Eddie said it himself repeatedly that he didn't feel sad over it, and so what other conclusion am I supposed to be drawing? I never said that having a lack of empathy makes him more "evil" or "villainous" nor did I mean to imply that anywhere in my post. Additionally, as I was listening to the podcast, his lack of empathy didn't make me think that made him more "evil" or "villainous" either. I just thought that him insisting that he doesn't feel empathy was an odd addition to his character in this podcast and it made me tilt my head a little, because again, it didn't add anything to the story that his narcissism or compulsions wouldn't have had him do anyway. And so since it doesn't really add anything to the story, I don't really know why they had the Riddler bring it up as often as he did.

But you did start making me think about this from a different angle, and it's made me realize... Was the podcast trying to convince the listeners that Eddie is a psychopath in an attempt to make him seem more scary, dangerous, and evil...? Because... Actually... YEAH! That's the only thing that I can think of for why they decided to have him lack empathy! Are they trying to pull on abeist tropes to make us more scared of the Riddler!??? Because let me tell you, I did not find him scary at all throughout this podcast. He's a funny, silly, asshole who can do violent things... But none of it came as a surprise given what I already knew about the character, so it wasn't scary. But to make the audience feel uncomfortable by portraying him as something that the 'ordinary' person can't understand. That's the only thing that I can think of for why they wanted to add it! And it didn't work! (Cause like... I understand that neurodivergent people can express their emotions in ways that are hard to appreciate. I'm neurodivergent too, you know! And I know that people who lack empathy deserve to be understood and treated with compassion and respect just like anyone else and that they are not necessarialy inheriently scary or 'bad' or anything like that.) So maybe that's really what was bothering me about its inclusion. It felt insincere, and if they really did try to put it in to scare the audience, pretty damn ableist too!

In any case, I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. Do you think there's anything I can do to make my post read as less ableist, possibly?

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #psychopathy #psychopath #the riddler #eddie nygma #edward nygma #riddler #ableism #ableist language cw #batman #batman unburied #the riddler secrets in the dark #the riddler: secrets in the dark

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orifces · 6 months

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a little word vomit on stuff that i need to revise whilst being hyped on this iced coconut mocha. this is mostly for me, but you're free to read !

background. drolta's species of origin; cambion & that crossover when she's transformed into a vampire. dro's mother's past work / worship of sekhment. a dying god needing a vessel, drolta being born / created to do so.. mother is disregarded. the corruption / grooming of drolta by sekmet ( & later ezebert). her slow descent into darkness - bleeding into newfound psychopathy & cannibalism with a pinch of homo-eroticism with ezebert later on. drolta is transformed into a vampire succubus. being the grueling second best & tossed aside to be the ezebert's second in command. eating this shit all-the-way up.

verses. MODERN / MAIN VERSE. the events of castlevania: nocturne take place … minus the very clear ending of the first season. in this drolta, escapes the clutches of ezebert & the belmonts … she makes her way to the americas. & there… she starts her own regime. considering it's the most versatile, this is where a lot of her storylines will take place. SOUTHERN GOTHIC. maybe supernatural influences idk yet? FLAGANVERSE. death's consort, crafted from the remnants of an egyptain priestess that once worshiped death; made in her reflection. the bat in the raptures, hanging just above the raven. she, it, follows the orders of the verna closely, watching people death deals with closely. operating as a demi-god; she has some of the same powers as death.. being able to shapeshift (into a bat, instead of raven), teleport / blend in & out of reality, telekinesis, .. whilst also have special abilities of her own, pyrokinesis (magenta flame), venomous bite, & a couple more i haven't worked out yet. (working). STAR WARS. takes place outside of the main timeline & embedds itself within the force unleashed games. species of origin? zabrak - human; ombred magenta to deep brown skin from the scalp to the body - the rest of her body is brown to fleckled with magenta patches that light up when she uses the force. her whereabouts are relatively unclear following the death of her master darth phobos, but she's believed to be on dathomir. BLADE / COMICS. need to rewatch the blade films / read his origin comic. YOU / HANNIBAL / CRIMINAL MINDS. drolta's upbringing mostly follows a modernized version of the events of nocturne. mother died at a very young age, father was never around, she was shifted through foster house to foster house … experiencing the worst of the worst humanity had to offer. thus spiraling her to be the worst of the worst. violence becomes her outlet & cannibalism becomes a way of life. she makes a name for herself being regarded as 'PINK DEATH', the black widow in pink.

#cw cannibalism.#cw grooming.#cw. parental death.#cw death.#cw death of a mother.#cw psychopathy.#cw blood.#cw violence.#cw gore.#cw internalized homophobia.#cw like every fucking thing.#ཐི♡ཋྀ ... ⁎ ooc: vendetta.#ཐི♡ཋྀ ... ⁎ note-to-self.

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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I had a BRAIN BLAST on the way home today. So!

In the category of Readers Who Get To Do What They Want:

(CW for dark Simon, johnny, and “reader” with unhealthy relationship dynamics, gaslighting - not from who you suspect - and threats of violence)

A pair of identical twins who are basically opposites from birth. Twin 1 is obviously favored by their parents for being the “easy” twin that tries to appease them and keep the peace. Twin 2 a little hellion from birth, they think this kid is basically broken. Try to test for psychopathy but nope, their own kid has just picked up on the accidental favoritism from birth and just seems to dislike their own parents. But they still love their twin.

The twins grow up as complete opposites. Different social circles, hobbies, interests, clothes, attitudes. They’re incredibly close, but twin 2 will (and has) gotten violent on twin 1’s behalf because their parents are raising them to be “well behaved”.

By teen years, twin 2 is being sent to the countryside most summers to be handled by the grandparents. (Jokes on them, farmlife is nice and the grandparents aren’t exactly strict - mostly because twin 2 actually likes them and doesn’t see much need to rebel).

Meanwhile twin 1 is doing summer programs and learning arts, developing this intense aversion to conflict and has trouble standing up for themself. Especially without twin 2 there to lean on.

Come university, their parents insist on twin 1 staying close by for uni, essentially make the choice for them. Twin 2 decides to ship out of the country and plans on breaking off all contact. (Maybe due to some sort of unforgivable drama at the grandparents’ funeral?)

Before leaving, twin 2 gives twin 1 a burner phone with one number programmed in. Promises that if twin 1 ever needs to disappear, to be free of it all, they can call and twin 2 will be there in a heartbeat with bolt cutters for those chains. And then they just sort of… disappear.

Twin 1 doesn’t see them for *years*. Never uses that phone but keeps it.

So twin 1 lives their quaint pre-determined life with their acceptable job and it’s all mostly okay. Not bad at all. Quiet, if lackluster.

And then Simon comes along. Simon, who takes one look at this little angel and decides they have to be his. Theyre too good, too soft, unable to take care of themselves properly in this big scary world. And after all he’s suffered, doesn’t he deserve something sweet to protect? And hell, Johnny could use a kind touch every now and then too.

So he “seduces” twin 1 (aka, the dark!Simon move of just deciding someone is his and acting like it whether they like it or not). Manipulates them into stepping right into their own collar and leash, with him at the other end.

It’s too late by the time Twin 1 realizes what they’ve become - this man’s pretty pet. An agreeable little doll for him and his teammate to play house with. It’s not always bad, but it’s suffocating and scary. They feel trapped; they are.

It takes months until they get enough privacy to dig the old phone out of the place they nearly forgot about it.

Twin 2 picks up on the third ring.

In the intervening years, twin 2 has gotten into all sorts of trouble and mayhem. Become the demon their parents always accused them of being. Has, somehow along the way, joined up with KorTac and gotten all their files scrubbed. “Twin 2” no longer exists to the world at large. Nothing that anyone, even Kate Laswell, could dig up.

They get the call from their twin and break their contract on the spot. Get on a flight within hours. Sneak their twin out of the homey prison they’ve been locked up in.

Take twin 1 to a sunny, public cafe and get the story through their sibling’s nervous stuttering. Gets angrier and angrier with the more they hear, eyes fixated on the thin leather collar around their twin’s throat.

“Please just… I know it’s selfish and I’m sorry, but-”

Twin 2 already has a plan. They have a quiet, cozy cabin with comfortable funds in a rural part of Canada. Twin 1 will go there, rest and recover and be free. Twin 2 will take their place with Simon and Johnny to throw off suspicion and searches.

The scars from living the life they have? No worries. twin 2 will stage a car accident, reopen some of them to make it seem legit. Lie about head trauma to account for any lapses in their twin 1 act.

It’s decided within three hours. Twin 2 sends their sibling off to the airport and sets everything into motion. They’ve been dying to do something like this for years, after all the times their sibling stuck by their side and tried to stick up to them, to no avail.

Twin 2 instantly hates that fucking collar. Lets Simon put it on but not without the most dark look at the wall, thinking of all the ways to break his hands. Fingers twitching by their side.

The boys sit them down to watch scary movies because they always think it’s fun to spook twin 1 and fuck them while they’re all tense and shivery and but twin 2 is just watching, almost bored. Makes a few attempts to fake jump but keeps forgetting because all their focus is on not slamming a hand into someone’s dick for grinding on them.

Pretends to be asleep in the big bed they’ve been herded into when they kick Johnny or Simon off in the middle of the night. Purposefully aims for soft spots and bruises.

They try to act like twin 1 for a bit but the persona is so difficult to keep up when every little condescending comment from Simon or Johnny makes them want to start stabbing. The inside of their mouth is all torn up from biting onto their cheek and running their tongue over their teeth to resists snarling and snapping.

One day they’re going to snap… and it’s going to be so good to see these bastards bleed.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #twin!reader #twin 2 reader #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #themboss really

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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Home. (ALT ENDING) || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 3K (this one got away from me, sorry) Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: mentions of psychological issues, mentions of self-harm, mentions of therapy Tags: you/your pronouns, hurt/comfort, ANGST, forgiveness, catharsis. a/n: not proofread. THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING. I'M STILL NOT HAPPY WITH IT, BUT IT IS WHAT IT IS.

[FIC MASTERLIST] || [MY MASTERLIST]

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Anyone would say that Simon Riley is good.

Good company for going out drinking.

A good partner for duos in training.

A good shot.

A good soldier.

A good candidate.

A good recruit.

A good lad.

But Simon would say he’s a bad, bad man.

Even before he took this job.

Destined to rot from the inside out.

To become the things he’s promised himself to not ever become.

Finding a way out of home, out of the trauma, only works if some of it is not already inside of you.

Slowly eating you up.

Ever-lasting.

All-consuming.

That’s what Simon figured out in the last 15 years.

Grief.

Depression.

Rage.

Antisocial tendencies.

Psychopathy.

PTSD.

Compartmentalization of emotions and trauma.

Tendencies for self-harm and self-sabotage.

Fear of vulnerability.

Trust issues.

An inclination for isolation.

A past muddled by juvenile delinquency and early drug and alcohol use.

An avoidant attachment style in any relationships he attempts to form due to an inability to truly connect with others.

An identity crisis stemming from low self-worth and a disturbed self-image.

The list goes on.

Simon would say he’s got it all under control.

But any Army-appointed psychiatrist would disagree.

And he’s too valuable of an asset to let go of…

Just the ‘depression’ diagnosis would land the average soldier on a watchlist and the ‘tendencies to self-harm’ would get anyone a medical discharge and interned into a psych ward.

Thank God Simon’s not the average soldier.

Price has been pulling strings to keep him around, calling in favors to people for his sake and getting people to turn a blind eye to the fact Simon Riley has not gone to a single routine psych check in the better part of a decade.

In exchange, however, that forced Simon to take a deal with Price and instead see an off-site psych expert. A friend of Price’s, a retired psychiatrist who has no way of getting him discharged.

As such, every time he goes on leave he drives some 4 or so hours from Hereford to a small village in Cumbria up north to see her. He always spends the first week of his leave there, in a chalet right smack in the middle of the Lake District National Park… It’s peaceful and nice. Over those 5 to 7 days, he talks about anything and everything.

At first he hated it, but with time, it did bring him clarity on a lot of his issues without any sort of danger or judgement. In her words, Dr. Armstrong had been dealing with John’s shit for “far too long”, and nothing Simon would tell her would make a dent on the appalling things she’s heard… And true to her word, Simon hadn’t spotted any shock or discomfort in her, even as he spoke of some utterly vile things.

She made him feel heard, understood, welcome… alive, even if more often than not he didn’t quite feel human. He always came in the door like the ghost of his moniker, a shadow, with steps too hard, body too stiff, breathing too tense, eyes too sharp… And left with an ease and lightness uncharacteristic to someone like him… Dr. Armstrong unraveled all the damage during those 5 to 7 grueling days… Only for him return to base and begin the process of hardening himself once again.

He’s thirty-three, you’re thirty-two today.

He dragged himself out of the comfortable bed in the guest house nearby to the chalet, and threw on a hoodie and some slides before he ventured out to the main house across the stepping stone walkway and into the house through the sliding glass doors.

Dr. Armstrong was already at the breakfast nook in the kitchen when he came in. She’s not quite gone gray, but she’s getting there. Her face is steadily getting more wrinkled compared to 10 years ago when this started. She’s wearing a light blue robe and a set of warm pajamas. Her hair cut into a pixie à la Judi Dench. “Good morning, Simon.”

Simon, meanwhile, is all disheveled, hair sticking up from having just woken up, face peppered with a 5 o’clock shadow, eyes still crusty and face unwashed. “Mornin’.” He grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea and popped two slices of bread into the toaster.

“How did you sleep?” She asked him as she regarded him over her green-frame reading glasses, which adorned the tip of her nose. She took a sip of a black mug with a cat’s whiskers drawn in it in white.

“Same as usual…” He replied as he stirred some milk into his tea. He grabbed the plain toasted bread and plopped it into a plate and began to turn to join her at the table when she set down her tea mug and leaned her elbows on the table, giving him a pointed look with a cocked brow.

Holding back a groan akin to a moody teenage boy’s, he set down the plate and cuppa, and grabbed some butter and a knife, spreading it over the toasted bread. He was thankful that Dr. Armstrong forced him to take care of himself, he was… But it doesn’t mean he was happy about it. “How did you sleep?” He returned.

“Slept well, thank you.” She replied and kept a stern watch over him as he reached the fridge and grabbed a yogurt and a small box of raspberries. He poured the yogurt into a bowl, topped it with the fruit and a drizzle of honey from the bowl in the corner of the counter, and then took his slightly more nutritious meal to the table.

She watched him closely as he began to eat his buttered toast, letting him have a moment of stewing in the ‘forced’ meal. She took off her glasses, folding them shut, and set them aside, along with her tablet, and stared at him.

In a way, Simon was more of a son than a patient to her, after so many years helping undo the damage the military and his childhood wracked on his head. He looked forward to the routine, needed it, so much that if he didn’t have these moments with her as often as he had grown accustomed to, he’d start acting a bit erratic. A bit more prone to violence, a bit harder to contain, a bit harder for John to keep a handle on. “What’s on your mind this morning?” She asked him with a cocked brow.

He finished his toasted and wiped his mouth. Then he started toying with the spoon resting on the edge of his yogurt bowl. “That it’s a bad week to be here.” He told her.

“And why is it a bad week, Simon?” She asked him as she leaned her head on her palm.

“There was this girl,” He began to say before he spooned some yogurt into his mouth. He had long stopped wearing a mask while staying over at Dr. Armstrong’s house. His scars were always on display for her to see. “who I grew up with. Her birthday is this week.”

The older woman nodded her head as she watched him closely. “I see. And… this ‘girl’... Was she a friend? A girlfriend?”

“I guess.” Simon said as he ate another spoon of yogurt, brown eyes lowered and focused on the red raspberries suspended atop the fatty yogurt. “We were like…” He trailed off. “She was… erm…” He stopped again and exhaled through his nose.

“I see.” The doctor said as she kept watching him. He kept eating quietly. “And… I assume you don’t talk to her anymore?” She asked.

“No.” Simon replied. “After I joined the Army, she moved away from Manchester and we lost contact.” He said softly.

“Do you still think about it?” She asked him. “About her?”

“Sometimes.” He admitted as he stirred his spoon in his bowl before sighing again and eating another spoonful. “A few times a year… Around her birthday, and mine. And Christmas… And the anniversary of the day we met…” He listed.

“And how does it feel…? Nice? Sad? Bittersweet?” She trailed off, knowing sometimes Simon needed help verbalizing his emotions.

“Sad.” He replied bluntly and ate a couple of spoonfuls of yogurt in a row before pushing the now empty bowl aside with the spoon resting inside of it.

“And cruel.” The woman watched as he rolled his shoulders, a bit tense, and raised his irises to look at her, eyes softened. “It’s been 15 years since she left Manc, left me and I-” He trailed off.

Looking away, he kept talking, and talking. “I still think about her. I think I’m okay, I think I’m doing good, doing better, and then those dates come and I’m reminded that she exists, that she’s out there, that she… that she went off and found herself a place and I’m here, and have nothing to show for it, just some stupid fucking medals pinned to the breast of my suit and blood on my hands that doesn’t wash off in the fucking sink.” He hissed bitterly, his eyes unfocused as he poured it all out.

“She was like me. We did everything together, were basically attached at the hip. She was my partner in crime, like a home away from home. Sure, dad beat me and mum, and scared us all and I’m much better now and I’ve grown up, but nothing feels okay. Nothing feels normal or good. It’s all just… just bullshit!” He hissed, his breathing beginning to grow faster. “I go through the motions but I don’t feel okay, I don’t feel safe.” He turned his head away from Doctor Armstrong.

“The last time I felt safe I was in her arms, looking into her eyes and telling her that I loved her for the first time and making all these promises for a future that didn’t happen. A future I stole from the two of us.” He grumbled. “And the worst part is that I used to blame her for leaving, for seeking out a better life, a better place! Maybe I still blame her… But it’s not her fault. It’s really not.” Simon’s eyes began to water in a way they never have before.

“It’s all my fault. There’s no one to blame but me. The last conversation we had was a stupid fucking argument where I looked her in the eyes, the girl I loved, and told her to stop relying on me… She was looking to me for help, to get her out, to get us both somewhere safe…” He stopped and pressed his lips together to contain a sob. His eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I was going to marry her.” He confessed and groaned. “I came back from Aghanistan and bought a ring, because while I was out there, with bullets whizzing past me and watching my brothers in arms fall like flies, all I wanted was to do was go back to her… And I was completely expecting her to be there… To be waiting for me…” He trailed off. “After I broke her heart and told her to leave… I… I somehow expected her to have been weak… to have stayed. And she was strong enough to leave.” He nodded as he pondered on it.

“And the worst part is that I want to know what happened to her. I want…” He trailed off. “I know it’s been so long and she probably doesn’t think about me and even if she did, she wouldn’t want to ever step foot anywhere near her and it’s not like I want to see her, or to meet with her or to… I don’t know, pick up where we left off?” He ranted more and more. “I just… I want to know she’s okay, I want to know she’s alive. I pray every year that she didn’t turn to hard drugs and die of an overdose on a street corner somewhere… I…” He trailed off. “I need her to be alive and healthy and safe and… happy.”

Doctor Armstrong’s eyes softened as a lightbulb went off in her head. She had finally found the genesis to most of Simon’s issues. The grief of the past, the depression, the antisocial tendencies, his propenture for isolation, his fear of vulnerability, his trust issues, his inability to truly connect with others, the avoidant attachment style to any relationships he does attempt to have…

It was because he was attached to her, whoever this girl he spoke of was. He grieved her, he missed her, he couldn’t pursue a meaningful relationship when he had lost such a deep one… A relationship, an attachment, formed through trauma, unhealthy, sure, but one that resulted in a bond. Any attempts of his to ‘move on’ felt wrong and soured quickly. And until now she couldn’t figure out why that was… thinking he just kept unhealthily self-sabotaging… until now.

That morning was a first in many ways. Simon was speaking unprompted, Simon was voicing his emotions, Simon was confronting his past, Simon was admitting to his mistakes, Simon was expressing his wants. He was not just opening up, but he was actively prioritizing his wants, his feelings… It was huge for someone whose sense of self was as skewed as Simon’s.

It only took ten years… But they were making progress.

‘You just have to write her a letter, Simon. Let her know you don’t mean to impose on her life, but that you simple hope she’s doing well, thank her for having been part of your life. Keep it simple, concise. You can do that.’

Dr. Armstrong severely underestimated Simon’s ability to follow her request. Granted, most of the time he follows them no problem… But when it comes to you? Yikes.

‘Simple, concise’ became 38 and a half pages. None of it proofread. He felt like he passed out and when he woke up he had 38 pages of straight up gibberish, half-baked thoughts and equally half-baked pages. He doesn’t even remember what the fuck he wrote (probably because he was drunk and high, his first time smoking in 15 years).

Trying to read it gave him a headache, so he just transfered it into a Word document, the only file in an all-black slide-out USB drive, and stuffed the USB and a note saying ‘From Simon Riley’ into an envelope. He didn’t even dare send it himself. He simply dropped it off in the mail-out box at base and and called it a day.

That was 3 months ago.

As he lays in bed after dinner, he silently hopes to God that you’re ignoring him and tossed out the USB drive without even reading the mess of text in it… Or even that the address Laswell’s analysts found for you in Scotland was wrong.

But he also can’t bear to imagine someone else opening the envelope, checking the USB drive and finding that letter and-

A buzzing awakes him from his thoughts and he looks across the room to his phone which is charging on his desk in the corner. He moves across the room swiftly, finding a number he doesn’t recognize has sent him a text.

It has to be you. He’s careful with his number, he doesn’t give it out willy-nilly. Only Price, Laswell and Nik have it. And you, since he included it in the document.

Taking a deep breath, he clicks the text on the screen, his brown eyes screwing shut as if it was about to explode. Or maybe it was just his heart racing that made him feel that.

He was afraid.

Simon Riley was afraid.

The Ghost wouldn’t protect him now.

Not from you.

Or, rather, not for the way Simon might react when it comes to you.

Deep breaths, Simon told himself.

Deep breaths.

In…

… and out.

Throwing open his eyes, he looked at the screen, finding one tiny little paragraph in the bright green chat bubble:

hi riley… read your letter a bunch of times… truth be told i didnt know how to answer it, been trying to find what to say for weeks on weeks now and coming up short. if ur free anytime soon can we just have a call over the phone? might be easier. if not then im glad to hear ur fine and that u found success x

Simon reads and rereads your text over and over and over…

And then something in him snaps. He clicks the phone button next to your unsaved contact and then stares at the screen, eyes wide and frantic, not even considering that you might not be ready, that you might be busy, that you asked for ‘one of these days’ and not ‘right now’...

The call connects.

Simon holds his breath.

And so do you, he can hear your little gasp.

The counter at the top of the screen ticks by.

00:01

00:02

00:03

00:04

00:05

00:06

00:07

00:08

00:09

00:10

00:11

00:12

00:13

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00:15

Simon’s eyes begin to well up with tears, he can hear your breath on the other side, but he’s too much of a coward to say anything.

00:16

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00:18

00:19

00:20

00:21

00:22

00:23

Thank God that you’re not.

You’ve always been stronger than him.

“Riley?” You whisper his name.

Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth to speak… But all that escapes him is a stupid little “Hm?”

You pause again, your breath catching in your throat again… before you say it:

“I forgive you.”

His world nearly collapses at that moment and a sob escapes him, a sound so pathetic and weak that he wants to beat himself over it before Dr. Armstrong’s words ring in his head:

‘You can’t keep suppressing your emotions, it’s okay to cry.’

And so he does. He sobs, audibly so, big fat tears running down his face as he lets his back hit the wall and slide down it until he’s sat on the floor.

“Riley…” You whimper, and it sounds like you’re on the verge of crying as well.

He doesn’t want to make you cry. He really doesn’t…

But he can’t stop…

For the first time in forever, he feels exactly the one thing Dr. Armstrong has told him he deserves to feel:

At peace.

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[FIC MASTERLIST] || [MY MASTERLIST]

TAGGING ANYONE WHO READ/COMMENTED THE FIC (there's only like... 10 of you total, I'm so sorry)

taglist: @iite-cool , @spicyspicyliving , @lyralein , @heavenlyrivers , @depressed-but-make-it-cute , @myhomeworksnotdone , @captainquake42 , @waiting-so-long , @erensonly , @pieckyghost

Thank you so much for reading this fic, to the people who've read it here and on AO3! Your support mean the world to me!

#ikea writes 💚#home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #tw psychological issues #psych diagnosis #time skip #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #childhood best friends to lovers #cbf #cbf!simon #teenage love #masterlist #catharsis

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portraitoftheoddity · 2 years

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Leg update:

(injury CW)

Complete oblique fracture of the right fibula with significant soft tissue swelling.

My foot looks like an eggplant emoji.

Like a lavender water balloon.

Like a child's poor attempt to draw a foot with only a purple crayon and toddler-level psychopathy.

And the puffy distended fucker hurts like a bitch.

Thankfully, I don't need surgery (!!!) since the break is pretty well aligned and close enough to other bones that it's fairly stable, so the orthopedist put me in an aircast and I have to go back in for x-rays in a week to make sure it hasn't gotten more fucked up in the interim.

Of course, it's my right leg, so I can't drive. :| So I'm gonna have to get to be reeeeaaaaal good friends with the uber drivers in my area. But my aunt is the hero of the day, for basically giving up her whole day to drive me down 2 hours each way from the mountains to the coastal orthopedic center and back to get my leg checked out, like a crazy ginger angel.

(I love her very much. <3 )

#lena's personal crap #injury cw #gimme a break (in the leg)

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alostlittleriverlotus · 2 years

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So I got spoiled for season 4 of Stranger Things and yeah, I'm not happy.

Tw/Cw for ableism especially surrounding ASPD and also spoilers for stranger things season 4

im not happy. I already went into this season bummed since the PTSD represented was basically just caused by a big scary monster. I know they have trauma outside of it, but having the symptoms line up with the monster attacks rubbed me the wrong way. Plenty of people with trauma though seem to not mind it, so maybe it's not a huge deal, but it was something I didn't like. And I just watched the episode at lovers lake tonight and hearing them go "hurting" when you could just say trauma feels so much like they're dancing around the subject. I know Brenner says it to El, but I just dislike how it's sort of danced around and nightmares and stuff come from Vecna. I know it isn't just that and he just feeds off of it, but honestly, I just do not personally like that they went that direction.

Now for where it gets shit. Oh yeah, Henry Creel aka 001 aka the orderly. I got spoiled for it when looking for the actor of the orderly and as I did more research I saw plenty of "violent psychopathy" "psychopathic tendencies" and guess what, he ends up being a really dangerous awful dude. He was my favorite character right away. He was creepy, but felt important and props to the actor portraying him cause he fucking did a great job. But every discussion around the character includes discussions of how he's a manipulative unfeeling psychopath. Every single discussion includes that including fan theories. Even someone trying to discuss what Henry had turns into "what we're looking at is psychopathy." Yet he's portrayed as dangerous, murderous, and he ends up killing his family as well as killing most of the test subjects and manipulating El. So another character with ASPD is turned into the antagonist.

It also sucks since I related to him a lot. I don't have ASPD, but his character already felt like one I could connect to even though I didn't really know him. He didn't even have a name revealed yet. It makes me so mad!

Also this is just a side thing, but seeing everyone go "it's about depression and trauma!" is so tiring. It's like whenever any form of mental health is shown, it gets labelled as depression or anxiety. I see characters with personality disorders yet it gets told it's just depression. I just, it feels like everything is erased under the label of depression. Like I have depression as a symptom, but it's just tiring. I'm just sick of everyone relating any mental disorder representation to being depression, anxiety, or trauma. Especially when personality disorders get so overlooked. I think it's great people can relate, but it feels like personality disorders and other conditions are just ignored. Even looking stuff up about my scenario and disorders, I get depression articles. Like no, not what I need. It's something that bothers me for a while and is probably just a trigger due to my lack of real identity and having the disorder and characters that show it be seen, makes me feel seen. So when someone just chops it up to depression, it feels like that one bit of validity is taken away.

But I just had to rant because oh my god, I was even relating to Henry, but then he just turns into "a monster and a killer" and someone you shouldn't relate to. Because of course. Because psychopathy is always bad (/s) just NO! I'm just so frustrated. This season is SO good, but at the same time, bad too. I'm just gonna end my rant here.

EDIT: Henry doesn't just have ASPD, he's autistic. Oh my god, I'm fuming. My brother is autistic and has ASPD and he's a dick, but he also works harder and is a good dude mostly (he's not exactly the best at understanding leftist stuff, he's more liberal.) But Henry has the same disorders as my brother and yet he's being treated like a monster! This is so incredibly personal for me. I don't know all the context cause I've only read up on stuff, not watched it myself, but what the actual fuck Stranger Things! This makes me actually so upset. The essay I reblogged is long, but it's well worth a read and far better than what I could say. My god, I am very upset. I was even relating to Henry a lot, but no.

I am so tempted to write fanfiction AUs fucking fixing this mess because I am not here for it! The framing of it all is like we are supposed to hate him and not trust him and El is good for not joining him, but I just. No? Also him lashing out at the lab just feels like another example of someone standing up to the abusive place they're forced into then being called the monster without anyone looking at why they did what they did. Because abuse victims are just supposed to take it then escape, they can't lash out at their abusers because their abusers are more humanized than them. I hate that take, I hate that bullshit. I hate this so much. Everything about how they're portraying him as a villain, as EVIL, makes me so mad! An antagonist is one thing, but no they full on making him into some evil entity that you shouldn't feel sympathy for. And nobody is talking about it and a ton of the fandom, even here on Tumblr, is treating him the same or just being a fan and falling in love with him. I'm just so genuinely upset by this.

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bardic-tales · 2 years

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Hello nl, hope you're well. I'd like to know, 16, 31, 34 and 36, please?

Hello, Verba. I'm doing well. Just taking a short break from writing to spend time on here. Then, it's back to writing. How are you doing?

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

I am motivated by a lot of things, but the most is that I have a need to write. I have been writing since I was a very young child when I completed my first full length fantasy novel. It was about a knight saving a princess, very cliché.

Ever since then, I have a passion for written word. If I'm not writing, I feel like I should be. There are even times when I think of its of dialogue in the shower. I need to have a notepad by my bedside as I tend to think of character interactions when I try to sleep.

I decided to become a professional author around 2007 - 2009 when I wrote a Witcher fanfic. An important voice actor for the game would read my work as they worked on the Witcher 2 and encourage me to pursue writing full-time. I still read our correspondence when I'm having a bout of imposter syndrome.

31. Hardest character to write.

This is an interesting question. It depends on the WIP. I try to get inside my characters' heads when I write. It would be a tossup between Niccolo Napoli from Cold as Ice and Ellarian Jhaer from Flight of the Dragon.

When I was creating Niccolo's personality, I would watch a lot of serial killer documentaries. Ted Bundy had some characters that I wanted Niccolo to have, but ultimately, I finally decided on giving him Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy. He's a very hard character to write.

cw: child abuse. fire. murder

Ellarian Jhaer is just as hard, but her backstory makes her that way. Her father sold her into slavery when she was little. This person would abuse her, and when she was 9, she would murder him. Ellarian would return to her father's village and injure her father in such a way that paralyzed him before burning the village to the ground.

A little time later, she would be captured by an Enethian Cult who were devoted to the Old Gods. She would be tortured and brainwashed. Through her brutality, she would raise through the ranks and become a High Seer. The complex where the cult worship was built upon a thin veil connection the Arathean Plane to the Death Plane. Jhaer would be able to hear the whisperings of the Old Gods and remake the cult into how they saw fit. Ellarian wants to see the world descend into Chaos because such a cruel world shouldn't exist.

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

It really depends on where I am. If It's the middle of the day, I'm usually found at the computer working on whatever WIP I need to that day.

However, I do keep a notepad by my bedside. This is where I will write any ideas I may have while I'm trying to sleep or any dreams that may inspire a story.

For the record, I have really horrid penmanship.

36. A spoiler for the story Flight of the Dragon.

SPOILER

Not only does Ellarian Jhaer want to capture Alystin for her ability to open portals to any plane at a leyline, but she also creates creatures through blood magick to try to accomplish this.

Ellarian Jhaer's blood golems actually has a dragon spirit within them. She controls the spirt through a "mother-of-pearl" ring on her finger. This stone set within the ring is from that dragon's pituitary gland which has turned to stone upon death.

Although Amés has "encouraged" Brennan to protect Alystin and keep her from falling into the cult's hands, he also given him the task of searching for these rings and destroying them. One such ring was created utilizing his son's soul.

#cw: child abuse #cw: fire #cw: murder #nl answers #tumblr games #lets talk shop #wip: flight of the dragon #oc: ellarian jhaer #oc: niccolo napoli #wip: cold as ice

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slugass · 6 months

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RANT: Internet Anarchist is overrated, and i dont need to watch his shit

cw sanism, ableism, mention of murder

the way internet anarchist uses his beloved "youtuber did bad things, MUST BE LE P$Y<HO, MUST BE GONE INSEN ZOMG" to market his videos makes me wish his channel became lost media that not even the way back machine can fucking archive

calling out shitty people doesn't give you a free pass to use the exact same stigma that literally gets innocent people who are already suffering killed just to make a riveting thumbnail.

there are other reasons that illuminaughti is doing bad things besides "MUST BE P$Y<HO!!! do i mean psychosis or that psychopathy thing we all love throwing around? WHO CARES, IT'S AN EFFECTIVE MARKETING STRAT FOR MY EPIC THUMBNAILS, CONSUME VIDEO." she might not even have whatever condition that word is supposed to be referring to.

it's lazy, ableist, and fucking insulting.

#ableism #sanism #call out #internet anarchist #sanetube #dont harrass anyone plz

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savofid · 9 months

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So, I've been doing a lot of introspection lately, and I think I've got something figured out. Guess I'll do the CW thing cause I'm gonna be talking about mental health and abuse and my own troubles in that. If you don't like hearing about stuff like that, this blog isn't for you, because this is where I often scream into the void when I'm having a breakdown.

Over the years since my initial mental break, I've referred to some parts of my mind having "voices." It's a rudimentary term, as no one term exists that can encapsulate all of them. They're intrusive thoughts, urges, obsessions. They're tugs in my mind towards some task or state.

The three disorders I have are general anxiety disorder, clinical depression, and obsessive compulsive disorder. And I don't mean "I like things neat." If you saw my bedroom, you would immediately see that the opposite is true. This creates a... Unique situation where I have three different disorders, equally strong and fueled by the same source, that being fear, and they all want something different.

My anxiety is rooted with my 6th ex, who was a manipulative psychopath who controlled every aspect of my life outside of work. Well, I'm away from her at work, so at least I have a space to decompress, right? No, because I was working for the government at the time and my work was very controlled. So I went from a controlling environment to another one and had nothing of my own to hold onto anymore to the point where I finally broke. I started having violent and aggressive intrusive thoughts. Thankfully, I never acted on them.

My depression has been with me since early childhood. I had my first real suicidal ideations when I was 8, all from a complete lack of self worth, the roots of which I don't wanna talk about again at this moment. I distinctly remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom drawing a picture of how my view of a pretty girl and my view of myself holding hands, all with one word written on the bottom: Impossible. Once I finished it, I crumped it, cried, and wished to die.

The OCD is genetic. Thanks, mom. I hope you rot in hell sooner rather than later. I'm at the point where I can tell if something is gonna become an obsession because of how I feel going into it. The example I give is my first flight on a plane. I was 20 years old, so plenty of time to develop a mild fear of something I'd never done before. As the date approached, I thought, "There's gonna be something about this flight that'll become a thing I now have to do every time I fly. No idea what it is, but it's gonna happen." Either I manifested it into my reality or it was mere happenstance, I flew on the left side of the plane for the three flights I took that day: Pittsburgh to Columbus, Columbus to Atlanta, Atlanta to San Antonio. A clear pattern emerged and now I HAVE to sit on the left side of every flight I take.

This is gonna seem unrelated and a jarring transition, but it'll tie in at the end.

I was raised around crazy people. My birth mother has OCD, psychopathy, and anxiety, my aunt is in and out of institutions, my uncle has issues with rage, my dad was clinically depressed, three of my four sisters have been institutionalized at least once and all of them have done some terrible things. If the least terrible thing was that one of them poisoned one of our cats, I'll let your imagination take you from there. Attempted murder is on that list, though, and they were only 8 and 10 when they made that attempt, and it was on their then toddler sister through poison. Strangely enough, that then toddler sister, now my directly older sister and elder of my full siblings, is the worst of them all. Little sister is just a psychopath like our mom.

Anyways, you spend so much time around crazy people and you learn to see it. You learn patterns, behaviors, tendencies, tells, ticks, and even being able to determine whether they're medicated or "feeling well so I didn't take them today." A complex coping mechanism. Because my family was basically the only people I knew for the first 6 years of my life, I didn't see them as crazy, naturally, and so my behavior, my coping mechanism, immediately extended to everyone around me. I spent 4 years in therapy for something one of my sisters did (and should've gone for much longer cause it's still unresolved and it's been 28 years), so had a very minor introduction to the world of psychology fairly early in my life. This later became something I enjoyed and I learned a lot about. I'm not a doctor, not a psychologist, hardly even an armchair therapist, but I feel like this combination of things has given me some very particular insight into people with clear issues.

A friend of mine in a chatroom was infamous for just dunking on everyone's taste in music and insisting theirs, which is highly niche and unique, is far better. He'd shit talk any song anyone talked about while going on at length about how the songs he liked were the best ever. It usually didn't bother me, which made me one of the few in there who actually liked him, but, one day, he struck a nerve. I was furiously typing up a massive response, detailing a singular event in his life that explains exactly why he is the way he is. I didn't send it, though, because I felt it would've hit way too close to home and I didn't wanna put him on blast. My assessment was that, when he was a young adult, he came out as gay to his parents, who didn't approve and kicked him out. He spent time homeless until a man took him in. The man was likely older and ended up being his first partner, and this the genre of music the guy in the chatroom liked is the same as his first partner, that he showed it to him. The man became more than just a partner but a father figure to him and they were together for a long time before things ended, likely suddenly and without proper closure, so he holds all of these things upon the highest of high pedestals.

You can probably see why that might cut a bit too deeply. Especially when, a few months later, he talked about his past and I was right on the money. He was kicked out at 19, spent almost a year homeless before a 40 year old man took him in and took care of him, the two of them ending up falling in love and being partners for 8 years. Then, the man just left one day and never came back, never called, nothing. All that I knew about him before he talked about it was that he was a gay musician in his late 30's living in Canada.

The way this ties in is that, over the years, I've likely done it to myself countless times, and these three disorders that are all fighting for control, all fueled by fear and equally strong, have mostly kept me somewhat mentally balanced. Past year and a half, though, they've been in flux. The spikes they cause, those sudden urges and impulses, are being, for lack of a better word, interpreted by this psychoanalytical process into more understandable ways. A thought, a feeling, a daydream, a fantasy, a pull upon my soul to do whatever it is that's the end goal of the winner. I've had auditory and visual hallucinations due to anxiety, like someone turning on a projector inside my mind, overlaying the fantasy dug up from deep within my mind over top of reality. It's terrifying.

Basically my brain has turned on itself and I'm stuck doing psychoanalysis on myself because I have become the crazy person.

/sigh/

I'm just angry right now, much like I have been for the past few weeks. Broke up with my partner because she only knew how to lie. Like, I can deal with her sleeping with other guys, just don't lie about it. I only ever wanted honesty and she couldn't even give me that. But I can't be in a relationship with someone I can't trust. Now, I made the mistake of dating the girl next door, so now I still have to see her nearly every day.

I feel bad for the guy she replaced me with while we were still together. Not because he's dating her or whatever, but because he's gonna have to go through what I went through back in January, where I very nearly killed myself, going so far as to give my roommate every sharp object I owned for my own protection before I reached the bottom of my depressive spiral. It was a rough three days but I ended up okay. Then, a few months later, once I had finally almost gotten past her, she dragged me back into her life, citing fear from the guy she replaced me with first. In reality, she just wanted to get laid and was having trouble finding someone to squeeze, and I fell for it. I was so close, up to the point where I'd go days without even thinking about her.

He's gonna have to go through that very soon. When I sent her a strongly worded and very long text telling her to basically get out of my life because she kept lying about the guy she was bringing around when I had asked her well over a month in advanced to make a little time for me cause I wanted to talk to her about some heavy stuff and she was always "too busy" and "he's just dropping off groceries" when he walks in empty handed right after parking and he's spending two, three nights in a row there without changing clothes. I said that it's gonna be three months and she'll find someone else to replace him with.

Well, it's been three months, and he was over this morning, only for him to be sent home in the late afternoon and another guy showed up an hour later. No, I'm not stalking them. I just spend a lot of time on my porch and have a functional pair of eyes, paranoid tendencies, and at least 3 functional brain cells. I look at every car and every person that comes in and leaves the parking lot because my eyes are attuned to movement and I react to the sound of people talking. I can hear them taking right now because I have a good sense of hearing. Couldn't tell you what they're talking about because I'm not listening.

That's not to say that I haven't had urges to hurt her. Not physically. I'd never lay my hands on someone that hadn't hit me first. I mean emotionally, tearing her apart with my words. Main reason I haven't is because she's not worth the jail time because I would not be kind. I've also had the urge to get her evicted, and have the evidence to back up the fact that she violates her lease on a daily basis. It would be petty as shit, but I could do it. However, I don't want that to come back to me or come across to the property manager like I'm a whiny baby. Yes, I have the entirety of the terms of my lease memorized because I kinda like not being homeless.

I just wish she'd move away so I can move on. Every time I see her, I get angry at her for wasting a year and a half of my life when there were other people who were interested that I turned down because I was committed to someone else. I've got no problem with open relationships and polycules and what have you. Given the right circumstances, I'd be down for that. However, I can't stand a liar, especially someone who lies about loving me.

And she would lie about anything. She flat out tried to tell me that she never eats with her hands. We went to 5 different restaurants on my birthday last year and everything was eaten with your hands: burgers, sandwiches, pizza. Either she is the worst liar I have ever met or she is one of the dumbest people I've ever known who is incapable of remembering something for more than 6 months. Or remembering that I worked at the restaurant she frequented on wing night and she always ate with her hands, complaining about how greasy her fingers were afterwards when we'd have a smoke before she went home, and I only started there in March and quit in July. She tried to claim this in April, so maybe no memory retention beyond a week, I guess. However, she holds down a job as a shift leader at a furniture store, so clearly that's not the case.

I was so angry about the whole ordeal with her that I needed to sit down and talk with a friend of mine who's a licensed therapist in Hungary. Wonderful, sweet woman. She helped guide me on what to do and how to handle the situation, so I followed her advice and tried to communicate with her. She responded with excuses, lies, and attempts to deflect. I then blew up a little bit and sent her a piece of my mind. It wasn't mean, it wasn't hurtful, it was just honest, meaning I very much restrained myself, cause part of me wanted to make it hurt. I decided against it because I doubt it's possible to make her feel anything.

And I really, really wanted to sit there and pick her apart and highlight that incident in her life that I've figured out through context clues and behaviors and just put her on blast. Just tear into her. But I was reminded of when I had a ex do that to me in the worst way possible: through a proxy. She used the Facebook account of the guy she was banging behind my back to weaponize my insecurities against me and the only thing that was stopping me from jumping from my 3rd floor balcony was the fact that I'd probably horrify whoever found me in the morning, and that went on for nearly two months. It doesn't matter how much I hate someone, I'd never subject them to that. It'd be extremely cruel and unfair because I'm an open book so my scars are visible for others to see. They're wounds no one can open again. With her, it's something she'd likely never tell anyone about in her life and would do a lot of damage.

My insecurities are a different story, as I tend to keep those personal. I know I'm not the best looking guy, and I've made peace with that. I'm just funny instead, and woo people with comedy. It's things like some of the deformities I have and the fact that I'll never have biological kids that claw at my insides. Combine that with my depression and you get someone who just hates themselves. Frankly, I hate my dick. I don't hate having one, just hating the one I got. It's not even about size, cause that's not the issue. I've got a deformity there and every partner I've ever had makes an effort to bring it up in some way and I just wish they'd fucking stop because they're either patronizing me or outright mocking me. They'll talk about how much they love it when we're together then immediately turn that against me once things end, even if they're the one who ended it through no action of my own.

I wish I didn't live in this country so I could actually afford to see a therapist instead of needing to be my own. It's getting really mentally taxing to let myself spiral just to get to the root of the issue.

But I am so very tempted to yell over at her place, "First guy wasn't enough for you today, so you had to drag another guy home? Is this why he left early, cause you lied to him about needing to do something, only to really be fucking someone else behind his back? Could just end things like an honest person would, but you're too scared that maybe this one won't work out so you keep him around as a backup, stringing him along with lies and excuses? Maybe I should let him know the next time he comes around."

I hate being right. I really do, and I genuinely feel bad for the guy she replaced me with. I'm not being facetious.

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redd956 · 1 year

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A Poem: Mental Illness is not....

CW: Poetry (lol), mental illness, potential graphic descriptions, mentions of suicide/allusion to suicide, several mental illnesses, reminders of trauma to the everyday mental illness experiences

Mental Illness is not mind over matter

Mental Illness is not controllable

Mental Illness is not something people should want

Depression is not sadness

Anxiety Disorder is not nervousness

Social Anxiety is not shyness

BPD is not dramatic

Anorexia is not skinny

ARFID is not picky eating

PTSD is not only for veterans or assault victims

OCD is not cleanliness

Psychopathy is not murder disorder

Schizophrenia is not violence

Panic Attacks can be like heart attacks

Hallucinations can be terrifying and traumatic

Anxiety can wear your heart down

Depression can scar and cause brain damage

PTSD can cause paralysis and memory loss

Mental Illness is not invisible

And yet we can pretend it is

How can you not see those that scream and cry at night, clawing at things that are real to them

How can you not see the college students standing upon tall buildings, the cis straight white men with guns aimed at their faces, the single mothers now no longer mothers staring at the pill bottles on their night stands

How can you not see the scarred individuals who wear countless armbands of lightly discolored skin. The individuals with skin patchy and red from suddenly remembrance. People who can barely walk as their joints are locked up, too sore, too inflamed, as their body is trying to fight a disorder, a disorder within their bones, within their skin, with their brain

Our bodies are trying to fight it. Are antibodies blind? Are they fighting invisible ghosts? Or are they fighting something real like the rest of us. Adrenal glands activated, bodies sickly sluggish and laying in bed, immune systems weakened bodies that can now no longer combat both the mental and physical illness clambered upon them.

How can you not see it?

Mental Illness is real

Mental Illness is not an easy fix

You cannot think it away

You cannot pray it away

You cannot assume that science it work it away without the work being put forth

Mental Illness is real

#poerty #my poem #poem #original poem #mental illness #mental illness poem #a scrapped poem for my creative writing class

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godless-crownless-king · 3 years

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🏵 PERSONALITY HEADCANON 🏵

“ This need to feed on the weak, the meek and the naive ”

[Warning : Multiple Triggering content]

🏵 After I drew this piece, explaining a little more about Aizen’s childhood, I felt the need to make a post about it, to delve into it further. The content of this post will be also added to my HC page.

Aizen’s personality disorder (psychopathy) is considered the worst and the rarest in terms of prevalence among the population. Contrary to the majority of people developing a psychopathy personality disorder, Aizen didn’t suffer from any form of abuse ; he wasn’t abused physically, nor sexually, nor emotionally. Nonetheless, he grew up in a family with two parents not being awful, but being not demonstrative, never showing him affection in an eloquent manner, avoiding physical contact, parents that, to the child, appeared more like mere shadows, mere ghosts - even though they were actually taking care of him and were doing everything they could to ensure their unique son’s a decent future.

Soon, at around 6 years old, Aizen started showing some of the red flags you can find in a child. By the age of 10, he was presenting all of them (for example : fascination/obsession for fire (because of its destructive symbolic aspect and the sensation of power it gives) ; attempts at putting buildings and animals on fire ; torturing and killing animals.

Already being a sadist, the boy who was receiving education at the local school, one day, felt like experimenting what he had done to animals on bigger beings and he sequestrated another child and tortured them for hours, burning them with cigarettes, cutting them up with a hunting knife he had stolen from his father, beating them with a stone. The poor victim survived the whole ordeal but terribly traumatized. After that incident, Aizen got irremediably kicked out of school and became home-schooled.

His antisocial behavior was already incredibly marked for such a young age and it got only more and more anchored as he never had to take responsibility for the consequences of his bad deeds.

“ I killed the cat... It was funny. I didn’t imagine there could have been so much blood and bones in such a tiny body. And nothing happened. No consequences at all. Like it hadn't happened at all.”

The major issue is, if no one stops a child with such behaviors to explain to them why it is so serious and bad, the child quickly links it to being in control at last and being in control is reassuring for a child, a child who is completely ignored by even his parents.

“ Then I killed the maid... and nothing happened either. The sun continues to shine. Life went on. That's when i understood that lives didn't matter.”

At the age of 12, Sosuke finally committed the act that had been on his mind for so long. He killed his father, a murder that didn’t mean much to him, then his mother. This murder holding much more meaning, for, unconsciously, if there was someone Aizen had been wanting to show him care and affection, it was her above all the rest. Aizen then opened the gas until it filled the house and put fire to it, so the fire would cleanse any proof left. When the emergency services arrived, he played his role of the traumatized little boy perfectly.

He was already extremely manipulative and was deemed as such by the therapist running his sessions. The professional estimating the child was already too cunning, manipulative and narcissistic to ever change.

The report indicated he was a pathological liar with a very high IQ (When you think he was finally opening up to you, he was just messing with you, mocking you, the version of the events constantly changing) ; heinous ; lacking entirely of empathy (never thinking about the others, including his past victims ; never expressing an ounce of remorse), going as far as to reject the problem on everyone else, him not being the problem at all ; highly sadistic (loving to break his victims through torture, both physical and mental, and send them into a state of perpetual fear) with a predator’s logic, appearing as extremely charming and even weak if he wanted so and, could even, in an attempt to lure his victim and lull their vigilance, making sure he’d fit the role of the perfect child and then perfect teacher, prince charming, whatever role he needed to fit as an adult. Under pressure - meaning if he were to lose his control of the situation, finally, despite the low probability of the patient going on an uncontrolled rampage, he could get hyper-violent.

#cw long post #THE SOSUKE AIZEN YOU KNEW... NEVER EXISTED TO BEGIN WITH ((HC))#cw psychopathy #cw torture #cw abuse #cw violence #cw animal cruelty #cw animal death #cw personality disorder

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askhubertvonvestra · 2 years

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Apologies. I meant to say George Foyet. Have you heard of this individual?

I hadn’t prior to this moment. What information I have on him indicates that it is for the best that I didn’t. I can assure you I wouldn’t suffer his survival.

Not only is he an affront to humanity, but he is a disgrace to those who carry his mental conditions and manage not to become unhinged murderers with wanton abandon. I witness Jeritza struggle daily to contain his impulses and direct them towards more productive outlets, yet Foyet would simply surrender to them. And he would go so far as to consider himself a brilliant or capable individual, no doubt. The very notion is laughable.

The Reaper reference and imagery is better left in the hands of one who has actually earned respect.

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

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I recently got into Mdzs and the character Xua Yang is quite interesting to me. I'v seen some people say he's a sociopath but I dont think that the case because he seem to truly to care Xiao Xingchen and from what I understand about sociopaths thats something that they are not capable of. In my opinion if he had any mental illness I would say BPD.

Xue Yang is endlessly fascinating to me because the childhood trauma does point to sociopathy, and from the little that we know about him, it’s impossible to tell. But people tend to misunderstand the pathology of sociopathy. Sociopaths do care about things. They are just as capable of powerful emotion as any other human being. What they lack is empathy, which can then make that strong emotion extremely damaging to the people around them.

Those of us who studied psychology look at Xue Yang and see a sociopath because we’ve been taught that sociopaths are made. That they are created by physical or emotional abuse, or severe trauma experienced during childhood. But we’ve also been taught that empathy is learned, not inborn.

The thing is, when Dawkins published “The Selfish Gene” in 1976, it was hailed as a breakthrough in evolutionary theory, and kids today are still forced to read the fifty-year old ranting of a man who willy-nilly picked through other people’s research in order to make his point (the same way they’re forced to consider Freud’s coke-fueled stream of consciousness rants). And Dawkins was certain that empathy is a learned behavior. He spent a lot of time using other people’s research to prove his point. Dozens of other books were written afterwards (by better researchers than him by the way), confirming some of his theories. But Dawkins was wrong.

We now know that 10 percent of differences in humans’ ability to empathize can be attributed to genetic variations, and that’s only the beginning. The amount we still don’t know about the human genome is astounding. In a nutshell, the way we classify sociopaths and psychopaths is going to probably change in the next decade anyway.

So, not to go get too far off the track (too late), I think people see Xue Yang losing his shit over Xiao Xingchen dying and see BPD because psychopaths (and sociopaths) don’t fear abandonment the way those with BPD often do. And that’s a valid point to make when you consider how much we actually know about Xue Yang.

But although sociopaths lack empathy like psychopaths, they do tend to feel anger and stress like everyone else. And they can care about other people, in a sense, because they care about themselves.

Think about it this way. Xue Yang isn’t upset because Xiao Xingchen, a human being, is dead. He doesn’t understand any of the pain or despair Xiao Xingchen felt, so he never expected Xiao Xingchen to turn his own sword at himself. He can’t comprehend the first thing about feeling responsible and/or guilty for other people’s deaths. In a sense, he doesn’t even understand why having Xiao Xingchen kill Song Zichen was so bad or upsetting. He only knows it’s bad and upsetting the same way you and I know we can’t breathe in space without ever actually having experienced it. But he doesn’t feel things that way, so he doesn’t understand the motivations of others who do.

Xue Yang is upset because Xiao Xingchen left him. And the fact that he wants someone to piece together Xiao Xingchen’s soul and put it back in his body makes it painfully obvious that Xue Yang still doesn’t understand the emotions that drove Xiao Xingchen to suicide. He can only understand how he himself feels. He knows that living with Xiao Xingchen for three years made him feel good. He knows that he wants to keep living like that. He knows that Xiao Xingchen being dead prevents that. That’s all.

If you break your favorite coffee cup (and this might be a bad example for people on the spectrum who get attached to inanimate objects but bear with me), you’re upset because you can’t have coffee out of it any more. Because you prefer that cup over any other. Because you like the way it fits in your hand, or the way it is easy to carry. If the cup is one of a kind, you might get extremely angry and upset. But, you don’t consider the fact that a coffee cup feels things. It’s all about how you feel without it. That’s Xue Yang with Xiao Xingchen in a nutshell. And that’s the gist of my argument for Xue Yang being a sociopath.

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