#experimental psychology

[satvrn75]

some doodles i made in class along with my notes. I'll be honest, I do not know wtf they mean.

except, I know that the first 4 are practice to make a good repeating doodle of my character Sam just like @nervousmistycat little guy is. The kind of doodle i can draw in anyone's notebook and ruin their perfect notes.

[kitchenwitchupinthisbitch]

I just spoke to my advisor and she thinks I'm ready to apply for the experimental psych master's program! I'm sending her my transcripts over to see if my grades are ok and double check I took all the right classes.

I can't apply for the 24/25 school year though since I missed the deadline. Time to figure out what to do in the meantime while I wait to apply for the 25/26 school year.

Perhaps find an internship? Take a few more classes? IDK

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompts 130: Lab Whump Aesthetic

CW: lab whump (obviously), blood, self-harm, psychological/emotional whump, magic whump

The lab rat uniform: loose, drab, hanging on whumpee's frame like it doesn't feel comfortable there

Bloodstained, soiled clothing, the result of experimentation

Whumpee left naked in their cell as their uniform is washed

Whumpee arriving at the lab facility as a new subject and realizing that whumper will be experimenting on them, not with tools and drugs, but with dark magic

Inhuman whumpees losing whatever shreds of humanity they might have had as time and experiments continue and they're treated more and more like animals

Or, conversely, inhuman whumpees that become more human and exhibit more human emotions as they're mistreated

Whumpee forgetting their own name because they're only referred to by a subject number

Disorientation from drugs/experiment aftermath

Whumpee's sleep, the only time they're alone, being disrupted by nightmares about what's been done to them

Or, a whumpee who's never left alone, always watched, always under observation of some kind

Whumpee's skin slowly turning into a scarred, chaotic mess from cuts/syringes/injections, etc.

Whumpee seeing their own distress and pain mirrored in the glimpsed faces of other lab rats in the facility

Whumpee learning to see themself as nothing but a test subject

Bandages, sterile gauze, sterile lights, sterile everything

Whumpee being overwhelmed when they catch a glimpse of life outside the lab when visitors arrive

Waking up after an experiment, seeing bloodied instruments and wondering groggily what terrible thing whumper could have done to them now

Learning to damage their own body to foil whumper's plans

Whumpee becoming desensitized to whumper's drugs and needing higher and higher doses for them to work

No longer recognizing their own body after recovering from whumper's last experiment

Whumper leading lab rat whumpee to a mirror, after intentionally keeping them away, and letting them see how pathetic they've become

Or, whumpee looking in a mirror and realizing that whumper has turned them into a monster

Whumpee deciding that it's too late for them and they might as well embrace what they've become

Feel free to reblog and add on!

[uncannyarchive]

The Hands of Purple Distances (1962), Sava Trifković

[infodump-matchmaking]

REQUEST: Unethical human experimentation

REQUEST: History of invasive/dangerous medical procedures

REQUEST: Psychology of Medical Trauma

Hello! I'm writing a book where the protagonist has to deal with intense medical trauma and I'm gathering information on both the psychological effects of it and the more general history of fucked up medical practices.

[loooovemeee]

Irréversible (2002)

[prwlnglthr]

YOUR BODY IS VACANT THEY CRAWL RIGHT THROUGH // vent art

[steelthroat]

Hello fellow human being who wants to chill with me...

"Love Steelthroat" hey wait a minute lady, we're not on a first name kind of close

(Shockwave is that you??????)

[trlvsn]

actually, every experiment i conduct IS ethical because they're all Fun and Entertaining. now get back on that trolley

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

anyone who found Saltburn shocking would lose their god damn mind at Poor Things

[garden-of-mancers]

Do you have any examples of when you would want to send out an imaginary friend?

I do! I don't have any suggestions for a specific time to send an IF out, (I'd usually send one out overnight or for a few days, just whenever I felt the impulse to do so), but I do have examples for why you'd do it. Also, most of these suggestions are based in magic and witchcraft-flavored spirituality, so I understand if this stuff is really Not relevant to everyone.

A couple specific examples I can think of are as follows:

If you want them to become more autonomous or eventually leave you for good, sending them out is good practice. I know autonomy is more of a goal in traditional tulpamancy, but in my experience, having an IF who's done a few tasks unsupervised makes lucid dreaming with them a bit easier? In this case, sending them out is like a practice exercise; it's just one of the many activities you can do to increase their ability to act alone.

If you have some kind of mystical or non-material thing you want your IF to retrieve for you. Maybe you accidentally left another imaginary friend at an outing. Send your IF out to go get them! Does your IF come from another land where they have unique items? Send your IF out to go bring you some! (And you might spend their time away crafting the actual items for them to give you when they return.) If you've lost an item, there are many superstitious solutions to help you find them faster. Some I've heard of are astral projecting to look for the item, visualizing yourself finding it or having it, and saying the name of the item and sticking a sewing pin in a couch cushion. Well, why not send your IF out to look for the item? Who knows, it might turn up once they've returned. (And if it does, you can say your IF told you where to find it or that they put it there.)

If you just want to be alone. If you're doing a ritual or meditation that requires solitude, (something like the hide and seek alone creepypasta is the only thing I can think of off the top of my head lol), or if you're burned out socially and you need to make sure you stay alone, send them out. Sometimes when I'm in a bad place mentally and want to fight with everyone, it was nice to tell the one person I could control "We need some space" and let her vacation halfway across the world for a bit. If you think about them while they're gone, you can remind yourself that they're at the lake or whatever. And if they pop back in anyway, you can always say, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at the lake?"

One psychological perk of having an IF is that you have a degree of control over them that you cannot exert over other people, pets, or headmates (if you're a system). I'm not saying this in a "you're my servant and you have to do what I say" kind of way; just that being able to create something, decide their appearance and traits, and have them come and go at your desire gives an IF's creator a level of autonomy and control that can be beneficial to your mental health. As an action, sending an IF out has the benefit of a caring act (packing, walking them to and from bus stop) AND asserting control over your environment. Hence: easy mental health hack.

Yes, I get that you can *technically* just make your IF disappear or stay in your headspace/inner world/wherever IFs go when they're not currently interacting with you. However, I prefer having near-omnipresent IFs. I'm unemployed and housebound, so it's not obtrusive for them to be there hangin out 24/7. So, whenever I get overwhlemed or DO want some alone time for more than a few hours, why not turn my IF's absence into a game or a part of their lore and experience?

And my final reason:

Just to let them go on an adventure! Honestly, I only started doing this because I had a travel journal that I never filled. I'm too disabled to travel now, so I would just send my old IF out to various locations and then write her adventures in the journal instead lol. It was a really cute journal! I wasn't gonna waste it lol.

-♥️-

(Sorry if this was overexplained or sounded patronizing. I am an overexplainer over text; if someone asks for clarification, I want to make SURE you get your answer the second time 'round 😂)

TL;DR: Sending an IF on an adventure by themselves can make them more autonomous, give them an active role in various magic spellwork, and provide psychological benefits for both the IF and the creator.

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 141

Write something inspired by this concept:

Whumper forces whumpee to be their lab assistant. Whumpee has no choice but to help, even though whumper's experiments are cruel and their methods repulsive.

Imagine whumpee silently assisting at whumper's side, their gloves spattered with blood, their teeth gritted as they fight against their own disgust and horrible guilt.

Or, maybe whumpee is hypnotized into assisting and isn't even aware of what they're doing...until they snap out of it later and realize what they've done...

[dioles-writes]

• OC FICLET •

Masterlist | Characters: Rory (they/she), Alzena (she/her), Winola (she/her)

Characters in purple belong to @jiphenn and Winola belongs to @sleepsloooop

Rory skipped through the cool gray halls of the Medicinal Unit base, her footsteps echoing faintly as she led Alzena and Winola towards a door.

Winola had been through these very halls many times, though this place was never one that she enjoyed to visit. Here was where she met with Reese for her bi-monthly mental health check ups, days that Winola would always try and avoid like the plague. Out of all of Paradise, the Medicinal Unit had to be one of her least favourite spots. Being back here…. It just filled her an ever-familiar feeling of dread.

Rory stopped in front of a random steel-gray door, one identical to the many others in this hall. She pulled out some keys from her pocket and unlocked it, leading Winola and Alzena inside. “Alzena go over there, Winola go over there.” She said, pointing at two metal tables separate from each other.

Winola made her way over to the table, still unable to resist Rory’s control, no matter how much she tried to fight it. As soon as she was lying down on the cool metal of the table Rory was strapping her down, tying tight restraints around her, until she could only freely move her head. “Whew, you should be good now.”

It was like a sigh of relief. In an instant, the numbness that had overtaken her entire body disappeared as Rory released Winola from their control. Winola should have been glad. She had been fighting all day to break out of the mind control and regain her senses, but strapped down to a table, unable to even so much as adjust her uncomfortable position, it just felt like an irony. As long as Rory was still around, she was never going to be free.

Rory made their way over to Alzena, strapping her down as well. “I hope you had a good time today Winola.” They said, rubbing their head and grunting in discomfort. “Hopefully it cheered January up seeing you!”

Winola could still feel the terror that ran through her veins at January’s look of bloodlust. His words repeated in her mind, sounding almost foreign coming out of his mouth. She remembered, before Paradise, before the Winter Concert, before he changed, how nice his company had been. She could never expect to feel unwelcome by someone like January. He always took care into making sure everyone was included, that she was included. She couldn’t remember a time in her life before she had met him when someone did that, when someone had been so kind to her.

January had been so different back then. A part of her… missed him.

He was the kind of person that everyone wanted around. No one seemed to hate him, not truly. Even Felix, who wasn’t nice to really anyone, was nice to January. He had a way with people, despite not having the experience to back it up. Nobody really seemed to have much bad to say about him. He was just so naturally charming. He could always been seen with a friendly, warm smile on his face, one that just seemed to put everyone at ease.

But now, he was just so much… colder. She remembered how he screamed at the Board Game Club on the Day of New Waves, how his voice had been filled with so much pent-up rage and sorrow. Before Gunther’s betrayal, Avil’s death, he would never have turned his back on them like he did, would never have stared at Winola was such a murderous glare, would never have even had the thought to kill her.

He’d changed so much. But strapped to the cool, uncomfortable table, staring sadly at her best friend whose face showed no recognition about where she even was, it dawned on her that it wasn’t just January.

They’d all changed so much. And they weren’t ever going to get back what they had together, when the Board Game Club still existed. When Avil was still alive.

Rory went and picked up a knife from a nearby table, walking closer to Alzena. “It sure was tough trying to stabilize all three of you at once.” She said, picking up Alzena’s hand. “Especially when you’re constantly putting up a fight.” She ran her thumb softly across her knuckles.

The sight disgusted Winola. She wished nothing more than to break free of her restraints, to run to Alzena’s side and put herself between the two of them. It’s what Alzena would’ve done if she were in her position.

Alzena would have never allowed Winola to be taken. To be so badly hurt. Alzena had sacrificed herself to keep Winola safe, to make sure that she would make it back home. That she would survive.

But here Winola was, weak, worthless. Despite all her training these past few months, despite all their attempts to get Alzena back, she’d still allowed herself to now be taken too. Alzena’s brave sacrifice had been for nothing. And now she could do nothing but watch as Rory held a knife over her best friend.

“Now keep quiet while I work, okay?” Rory said softly, setting Alzena’s hand back down on the cool metal table. They lifted their own hand up, knuckles almost white from how tightly they were clutching the shiny gray knife.

“Don’t hurt her.” Winola pleaded.

Rory slammed the knife down, the sound of bones snapping echoing through the room like a gunshot.

“Sorry, did you say something?” They slowly turned back to stare at Winola, their singular charcoal-black eye swirling with an unknown emotion that drove fear straight through her heart.

“Please, don’t hurt her.”

Rory slammed the knife down again, the crunching of bones reverberating in Winola’s ears as Alzena shivered and let out a quiet groan. “If I don’t hurt her she’ll hurt everyone else.”

“Please,” Winola begged, the sight of Rory’s blood-splattered figure looming over Alzena’s smaller, shaking one filling her with a numbing powerlessness. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

It was as if Winola wasn’t even there - like she was invisible. Rory slammed the knife down again, chopping away without a care, completely ignoring her. They only paused to occasionally groan and rub at their temples before bringing the knife down on Alzena once again.

Winola was forced to watch as more blood splashed onto the cool gray of the table, Alzena’s already marred fingers massacred into short stumps. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. “No, please,” she pleaded, pure desperation dripping from her voice. “Don’t hurt her. Please, don’t hurt her.”

Despite all her pleas, Rory wouldn’t so much as turn to look at her. “Be quiet.” They snapped, the squelching sound of the knife slicing through Alzena’s finger sounding once again. Winola choked back a sob, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill over the surface. She found herself unable to speak, not when it could make it worse for Alzena. She was left lying there, useless.

One by one, the sound of bones crunching filled the room.

Although it wasn’t much more than a couple minutes, it felt like an eternity for Winola. Trapped in that cold, bare room, the sounds of the knife colliding with the table as it made its way through Alzena’s hand echoing through her mind. She could hear Alzena still trying to resist, her grunts of pain only growing deafening in her head, until the small moans escaping her friend’s lips were more like desperate screams. Her eyes pricked with tears she still couldn’t seem to choke back.

But finally, it came to a stop.

“All done.” Rory said, tidily bundling up the fingers and wrapping them up into a clean, white cloth. She moved towards a small fridge in the corner of the room, humming a gentle little tune as they made their way over and neatly stored the severed fingers away. It made Winola sick to her stomach.

Rory walked back towards Alzena, beginning to clean her up. She treated her fingers, making sure they were nice and neat, carefully wrapping them up with bandages.

It was a long, painful while, the minutes slowly passing by, the only sound being Rory’s soft humming as they cleaned up the table. But eventually, all their materials were properly cleaned up, Alzena’s hands now wrapped with clean white bandages already mottled by red.

Rory stared down at Alzena, her expression one of what could almost be described as gentle care. They softly placed their hands over her glazed-over eyes and closed them. “Goodnight Orla.” She murmured, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

She turned back to Winola. “Try to get some rest tonight. We have a mission tomorrow.”

Winola gave her the nastiest glare she could muster. Her entire body boiled with barely contained rage. All her life she’d felt small, felt insignificant. Everyone in her life had made sure she knew it. This whole situation was exact proof of it. Of how useless her stupid existence was.

But she was so tired.

So tired of watching others have power over her. So tired of losing everything she ever cared for. Tired of watching Alzena be played with like she was nothing more than a toy. Like she didn’t matter.

She just wanted it all to stop. She wished she could have gotten rid of Rory, wished she had the strength to stand up to her. Wished she was anywhere but here.

Rory simply gave her a small smile in return before flicking the lights off, the door gently clicking shut behind them.

The entire room was enveloped in a complete pitch black.

“I’m so sorry.” Winola said into the darkness, her voice coming out more hoarse and shaky than she had intended.

She wasn’t even sure if Alzena could hear her right now, if she was aware of what was going on. All she could hear was her ragged breathing; slow, heavy breaths filling the room in a way that sent chills down Winola’s spine.

Still, Winola forced herself to continue.

“I should’ve just given up that day, so you could’ve protected yourself instead of me. I’m so sorry, Alzena.” Winola wasn’t sure the last time she had ever spoken so emotionally with a person, when she had been so raw and vulnerable - or if she even ever had. “If we ever get back to the base and you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll understand. But I just want you to know that I’ve really missed you and I’ve been training a lot to try to get you back.”

Alzena’s breathing stopped for a split-second before picking up again. This time, the sound of her short breaths was accompanied by small sniffles.

“I’m so sorry and I feel really guilty for putting you through all this.” Winola’s voice cracked. Hot tears streamed freely down her face now, no matter how hard she willed them to stop. “I love you and I miss you and I promise, I’m going to do whatever I can to get you out of here.”

She’d never told anyone that she loved them before. Yet the words didn’t feel hollow and empty like she thought they would. They were full of true, genuine sincerity; full of actual love. The truth was, there wasn’t a person that she cared for more, that she loved more. Alzena was her first friend, her best friend. Before she’d found a place in the Board Game Club, before she had Band, before everything, she had Alzena. It was always Alzena. There wasn’t anything Winola wouldn’t do to keep her safe.

And she was determined to do anything if it meant freeing her. No matter the cost.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, and I’m sorry if you’re sick of me. But I really do hope you know that if I ever have an opportunity to get you out of here, I’ll do whatever I can. Goodnight.”

The rest of the night passed in silence, the two of them lying there in the dark, but Winola found herself unable to sleep. All she could focus on was Alzena’s laboured breathing as she chokedly sobbed, only one thing present in her mind.

A promise.

I’ll get you away from her. I swear. I won’t let you suffer anymore.

[schlock-luster-video]

On November 18, 2001, Mulholland Drive was screened at the London Film Festival.

Here's some new Naomi Watts art!

[balshumetsbaragouin]

Valentine's Core Exchange Gift: Hybrid Affinity

I can finally talk about this! I am excited to have been able to take part in the first Valentine's Core Exchange. My giftee for this event is the amazing @nursal1060writes! I hope you enjoy your gift! Only the first chapter will be posted on AO3, this week, but they get the Full Monty in DMs. Thanks @valentines-core-exchange for connecting us!

Link: Hybrid Affinity Rating: Mature Characters: Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters Relationship: Danny & Vlad(Badger Cereal) Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use Chapter Word Count: 2,577 Story Word Total: 20k

Summary:

A momentary lapse of attention, a weapon's blast grounding him, an agent's boot heading towards his jaw…

Danny has been the 'primary research subject' of the Area 23 facility for the past three weeks. Since he was captured, he's had no contact with the outside world, and no chance of escape. After complaining about a lack of conversational partners, his heated cage finds a second occupant: Vlad Plasmius.

With his last chance at escape captured with him, Danny's hope dwindled until he heard the other halfa promise he had a plan. The only problem: He doesn't trust Vlad.

Have a sneak peek at the story below the cut!

The gun at the back of his head pressed deeper into the base of his skull. “I’m moving.”

“Not fast enough, ghost.” The agent tapped the spot right over his brain stem, “Keep dragging your feet, and I’ll save the government the expense of containing you.” The hiss of the pneumatic doors ahead of them sent tingles over his skin. The air on the other side smelled like the ecto-suppressant they pumped inside, burnt acrid chemicals, and days old sweat. 

“I’m floating; you see me floating forward, right?” He stopped just on the other side of the barrier, long enough for the scan, and moved again when the light flashed green above the entrance. The hum of the ghost shield grated his ear drums as it scrapped over his skin. “No need to be so hostile.” The door clicked shut behind him, the agent no longer bothering to threaten him once he reached the inside of The Oven. “Whatever.” Danny floated the rest of the way into the heated metal box and tried to decide which wall he’d sizzle on for the next few hours. He’d favored the one facing the door when he’d first arrived, but the heating element sat closer to the surface. The sadists running this circle of hell designed it that way. Their scientists were probably measuring how long he’d put up with more pain to feel ‘secure’ or something. 

He hovered in the middle of the room, eyeing the coolest wall, with an ache building up in his core. He decided to split the difference and sat against one of the walls perpendicular to the door. A low hiss filled the room as he sank down to the floor and leaned back. “You know, you don’t have to BBQ me. I’d be happy to answer questions without being spit-roasted.” The agents on the other side of the monitoring equipment couldn’t hear him. He’d made a show of cursing and insulting them the first… however long, until he was hoarse. They’d only told him they didn’t receive audio after he couldn’t speak. They said, ‘we’re not interested in any lies you ghost vermin want to tell’ and sneered down at him like he’d become a bug that learned to speak. They did monitor his energy levels, though. When he’d attempted an ecto-ray, a whole host of guns popped out of some panels in the ceiling and hosed him down with molten misery. The liquid didn’t start hot, not like the walls, but as soon as it touched him…

He rubbed at the spots along his forearms that got the worst of the spray. The jumpsuit still laid odd over those spots, like the ectoplasm underneath refused to come back all the way. He poked around the area, feeling the way the latex enmeshed with the healed flesh under it. Other areas stuck because he was slicked down with sweat, but here it felt glued down into the muscles. He leaned forward and frowned down at the half-melted state of his boots. The soles of his feet and the back of him always took the worst of it whenever he was back in the cage. Still, it was better than being in the labs. The blazing temperatures and grating silence granted a peace that left him when they wanted to stick tubes down his throat or needles into his skin. “I could even convince myself this is pleasant if I couldn’t smell that burning ectoplasm.”