#tw: substance reliance

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: what kind of trauma you could have experienced in childhood

tw: mentions of childhood trauma triggers

this orb is in the child zone of the chart. while the first orb is your public persona / the mask you wear in public due to expectations others have of you starting from a young age, this third orb (the sum of the mask and the true self) tells the story of what you experienced as a kid to make you who you are. this is the doorway between what others think you are like because of how you come off and who you truly are.

your lack of a number correlated with an experience listed below does not mean to minimize your experience with the topics (e.g., abuse, familial alcoholism, neglect, etc.) these are simply my observations (also observations are not destined to be true, they are simply possibilities / increased odds).

6 - lovers

covert incest: the reliance a parent has on their child for emotional needs that an adult relationship would provide (this is the mental and emotional aspects of an adult relationship NOT the physical)

7 - chariot

constant moving around which created a level of detachment in the world around you

9 - hermit

could have been in a foster care system which made you feel alone and unwanted

constantly distance from parents - maybe parents were constantly away on business or were otherwise occupied so you were alone and felt neglected by them

11 - justice

a messy divorce OR finding yourself in the midst of legal battles

troubled youth - perhaps experience with law enforcement / juvenile justice systems

13 - death

loss or near loss be it of a family member or yourself

15 - devil

dealing with a toxic household

substance abuse issues in direct family that effects you

controlling parents

physical or mental abuse

16 - tower

car accident, house fire, medical emergency, etc that forever changed your life

17 - star

having an illness that effects your ability to just be a kid

18 - moon

constant lies and manipulation experienced by you from your parental figure(s)

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[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

Tw for mentions of drugs and ODS

I can see Pony eventually having kids, like having a whole house or something in his twenties, like twentie two, like I mean young. I can see him having a daughter, two years old, he wouldn't be a BAD father, no he beoukd be a pretty good one, but he still has a lot, I mean ALOT of issues. I feel like genuinely the aspirin abuse would lead to more. Since its a gateway to more hardcore drugs, he would obviously keep this, secrete from Darry, and Soda because you know both them would lose there shit, he would hide them or try and get them to a different place when they came to visit. Which wasn't very use full since Darry loved Suprise visits. He hid the drugs decently from his daughter, but would talk to her like tell her what to do during an Od and wouldn't use them in front of her, but he would be assleep, and Darry would come over to visit and talk with his daughter ( he loved his daughter sm that had the silliest bond.) but I mean that man left like a pill or something out and darry asked what it was and she gave him a whole musical number, because she's like 2 (something like this PSA. https://youtu.be/OpTKdu3s_Fs?si=aMZAzEXMYZoQR-ZU ) and oh my god that man would freak, and be mad but mostly be concerned about his daughter first. (he's not abusive no absoulty not, he treats his daughter lovely, and loves her so much.) and then ask about pony, and she wouldn't lie. Believe me when that man woke up Darry had raided the whole house.

DAMNNN THAT PSA WAS CRAZY

but no fr tho pony has such an addictive personality and there's no way that his constant reliance on both cigarettes and aspirin wouldn't end up leading to something more if no one was able to catch on to it soon enough. and pony LOVES his daughter but he just doesn't know how to cope properly after years of relying on substances to deal with his issues. 100% darry would be freaking tf out when he finds out about pony doing drugs AND about his daughter having to know what to do if anything goes wrong. especially because darry knows what it's like to lose parents, and he can't see how after everything, after all of the pain of losing their mom and dad, that pony could still risk losing his life and depriving his daughter of a parent. that's what makes darry the angriest about the situation, is that pony is risking putting his daughter in the same situation he had to suffer through as a child (and, darry thinks to himself (though he feels a little selfish about the thought later), that if pony dies, darry will be stuck having to take care of another child that isn't his). when darry confronts pony it's one big mess, with screaming and crying, and pony tries to explain to darry that the whole reason he taught his daughter what to do in case something goes wrong was so that there was less of a chance of pony dying and his daughter having to go through that. in pony's mind, this is perfectly reasonable, but it only makes darry angrier.

i like to think that with darry and soda's help, pony was eventually able to stop doing drugs and to realize how much pain he would have put both his daughter and his brothers through if anything happened to him

[mq-writes-ig]

tw mildly implied substance reliance

this is the only time i can handle being alive

with the world a little blurry

warmth in my head

my throat

oblivion

happiness haze

this is how i can live

i cannot function otherwise

-idk call me whatever you want

[nrthwst]

    »   💎      …      @.𝚗𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚠𝚜𝚝   :      an   indepdent   ,   selective   ,   18+   *&   mutuals   only   final   girl   /   starlet   au   pacifica   northwest   of      alex   hirsch's   gravity   falls   .      potentially   triggering   content   can/will   be   present   on   this   blog   ,   so   follow   at   your   own   discresion   .   triggers   that   will   appear   :      stalking   ,   murder   ,   abuse   (   mental/psycological/child   )   ,   trauma   ,   grooming   ,   mental   health   struggles   ,   toxic   family   life   ,   greed   ,   drug   use   *&   more      .   all   will   be   tagged   as   ❝   insert   tw   here   tw*   ❞   .   filmed      *&   adored   by   abi   ;   revamped   january   30th   ,   2023   .   ᵃᶠᶠᶤˡᶤᵃᵗᵉᵈ   ʷᶤᵗʰ   :   @m4sonpines   ,   @val3ntino   ,   @s4turs   ,   @dcmure , @g0ldsworthy  , @legacytaught , @.urlhere !

carrd   +   dossier   (   coming   soon   /   temp   rules   on   @wiredsmile   )   ‣   pinboard   ‣   playlist   ‣   promo   ‣   aes   sideblog   ‣ wendy corduroy sideblog : @c0rdroy

𝚊   𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢   𝚒𝚗   :      hiding   behind   a   mask   ,   accepting   that   you   aren't   to   blame   for   your   families   wrong   doings   ,   becoming   your   own   you   ,   feeling   worthless   ,   coming   to   terms   with   your   abusive   upbringing   ,   learning   to   love   yourself   *&   accept   that   you   deserve   love   ,   emotional   reliance   on   alcohol/other   substances   to   dull   the   pain   ,   survivors   guilt   ,      *&   the   dark   sides   of   fame         .

[katiethxrne]

I: Magic! Of Potions, Alchemy & Ordeals of Being a Sellout

Katherine Thorne was never supposed to be a witch, she was probably destined to be working in a fashion boutique, working in a media conglomerate, or maybe if she felt particularly academic be a chemist. Her parents worked with media and fashion, her father was on the track to be a high-end lawyer, her mother though a paralegal had come out of the early 90′s high on the fashion industry and wanting to make her own line. No one had any idea Katie had magic when she was little, minor accidents brushed off as their imagination. Only her father had an inkling that maybe Katie was different, he had heard family stories about his grandfather, and buried somewhere in a trunk were magic books and wands. But it was only when her parents died, and Katie survived a night alive in a snowdrift, half-dead and dazed, that her magic came known. 

Katie belongs to the kind of wizard known as bang ‘n’ flash magic, bright, flashing, bombastic and bright. She excels in charmwork and flashy spells that require more force than finesse. Her mind whirls with different applications for spells, for how she can twist them to suit her needs. Katie Thorne is a good witch, an excellent one.

However, Katherine Thorne isn’t good at potions, nor at alchemy. She is something of a genius.

School was hard before Hogwarts, hard to focus on, hard to care about. She wasn’t a great student of anything except detention. Hogwarts was a new start, and the first day of class, first period, she stood with a loose gold & red  tie sporting a black eye in front of a cauldron and for once things made sense. Put everything together to make something new. Every knife slash had a reason, every crushed eye a magical property, every timed heating element and every stir had a purpose. Katie hadn’t ever felt like she had a purpose, and suddenly potions was there. It became rote, familiar, and she rose to top of the class in Potions before the Fall session was over.

Over the years Potions got more and more interesting, she had a Restricted Area Pass from her Professor, studied strange potions and recreated them. She had found half-detailed potions in these books and helped rebuild them under the tutelage of her professor. Katie was enrolled in the Alchemy course in her 5th year, despite it normally being a N.E.W.T. level course, with her Potions Professor showing off her new potions, her work, and that Katie and Alchemy would be a match made in heaven. McGonagall had her reservations, but allowed it. Katie submitted three separate potions patents to the Ministry for her O.W.L. and all three were accepted. Katie zoomed in on these subjects, whatever time she spent not being a total hellion was spent in front of a cauldron, painted runes and creating mock-plans for alchemy. Her study went so far as practicing necromancy, her first attempt at the end of her fifth year saw her bring a snake back to life for a few moments before it turned to ash. She spent her summer between her 5th and 6th year was spent studying every doubled restricted section book, every book she bought in Knockturn Alley. It all came to an attempt. An attempt alchemist had been trying to do for years-- bringing a human back to life.

Didn’t work.

Katie has filed away these notes every since, no-one needs to know how close she possibly was and Katie honestly doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to be caught in her mad spiral. The Ministry has them on file as well with the Unspeakables, who had chewed her out, but had also been reasonably impressed that this work was done by a 17 year old. It’s a well-accepted fact that Katie is a potions genius, an alchemist whiz with a working idea of necromancy and life magic. However it’s not her only field of study, Katie’s magic has always been instinctually, her magic comes in the form of Potions and Alchemy, it comes in this form but Katie has always been good at wandless magic. It became her focus during her 7th year, she has gotten highly proficient, able to throw up shields, cast curses and hexes, do some excellent charm-work. She really enjoys the trick of summoning fireballs and throwing them, uses wandless Accio charms, getting to see people’s shocked faces in the Dueling Halls when she throws up a shield after being disarmed. But Katie doesn’t really have an inkling of how people are spooked by how easily she can do this. Sometimes she uses it without thinking, casting wandless magic forgetting her hand isn’t in hand, it can be startling to folk who see her doing magic so easily. But her magic rises to meet her and the need for a conduit when not doing large scale complicated magic is growing less and less as she gets older. 

Now as an adult, she has an impressive little resume, she has several more potions patents, has done alchemist workings for Hogwarts and aided in some level of curse-breaking with objects for her job. As an Auror Katie gets to see the effects of dark magic up close, and feels a certain amount of fear and guilt for getting so close to that kind of madness. Picking apart bodies, working with blood, seeing the outcome of nefarious experiments functions in re-enforcing that Katie could have been that. She doesn’t like the Ministry, she doesn’t like the restrictions around magic, she doesn’t particularly enjoy the regulation she has to enforce and sticks to what she knows. Running missions and stopping dark magic, stopping people who harm others, and stopping people she might’ve been. 

Katie struggles with this, struggles with staring at dead bodies, working with taking them apart to see what alchemy attempted on them, stripping whole sites of dark magic to see what lurks beneath. Katie when on a mission has to switch modes, she cannot be Katie Thorne, the Little Lioness, the Hellion Brat-- she has to be Auror Thorne, Captain Thorne, Alchemist Thorne. She has to be stone, and put away her horror and the trauma before her. She worries if anyone knew this they would name her weak, cowardly. Katie has always dealt with nightmares, but it was easier when she was younger, when the potions she took weren’t needed, she wasn’t dependent on them. Now deals with the nightmares of missions gone wrong, watching partners die, watching what happens when you don’t solve the puzzle right, or skipped a piece. It feels like being in front of the cauldron again, putting things in order to make things right. But Katie’s mind never feels right, she takes potions to take the nightmares away, going high and higher in dosage, she numbs herself while at the lab, chugging potions to stop her from feeling the onslaught of emotions and get the job done. It’s gotten to the point where some potions just straight up don’t work on her any longer. She lies awake at night, thinking of everything she’s seen, and everything she’s done. Katie struggles with what she does on missions, the dark wix she’s killed, the people caught in the crossfire, and the people she couldn’t save. She thinks on it, meditates, and apologizes for her failures then she gets up, and mixes a potion, returning to what used to be so simple, untainted and natural.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

It's Friday and thankfully I remembered before bed.

My wip is unconventional in that the "plot" is just character development. That's all I care about with books and it was all I wanted to write. Brief TW for those who decide to read: this wip deals with a lot of mental health issues, bigotry, and talks about sex and asexuality (there's a more graphic *warning that applies which I will tag before said character's paragraph). While I won't be going into detail I feel y'all deserve to be warned.

The story features three main characters:

Alvere Duval, an autistic gay ace man of colour who was stuck with crappy parents until he hit 19, at which point he ran away with his best friend to bunk with his boyfriend. Alvere's main arch (to put it very simply) is about him learning to love and accept himself despite all the horrific shit his parents and peers said about him. He deals with self-hatred, internalized ableism, homophobia, and acephobia, pretty nasty C-PTSD and anxiety, I could go on but we'd be here all day (this poor man). His secondary arch revolves around his desire to build a shelter for LGBTA+ youths who are homeless or stuck with crappy parents like he was. My favorite thing about writing for him is the confrontation scene he has with his mother near the end of the book. In many ways he was close to her and loved her to death, but his best friend and boyfriend could see how casually dismissive she was towards his ability to form his own opinions and knew she was complacent in the horrible way his father treated him. Part of him knows that too, but he's terrified of losing the idealized version of her he has in his head bc it's one of the only good memories from his childhood. Yes I cry every time I think about it and love projecting onto my own characters why do you ask?

Next up is Jack Felicity, a mute non-binary aroace indigenous person, and Alvere's best friend. Their main arch is about them processing the damage theirs and Alvere's early friendship did to them, as it was extremely co-dependent and drained them of any and all personality they once had. Add ADHD and depression to that mix, and about half way through the book they realize they literally have no idea who they are outside of "Alvere's Friend" and have to rebuild themself with the support of their mom, their new friends, and Alvere himself now that they've started working through their dependency issues. Their secondary arch revolves around them learning that sometimes second chances are worth the risk of betrayal, and that losing a friend is hard but it's not the end of the world, and it doesn't mean they failed. My favorite scene I've written with them is when they reconcile with their mom who, while not nearly as bad as Al's, still made some mistakes in the past. I love it bc she acknowledges that she was wrong and apologizes to Jack for being insensitive in regards to their depression. If only more parents did that.

Lastly we have Carlo, a bi gnc trans man, and Alvere's boyfriend. (*TW for mentioned substance abuse, underage sex work & grooming. "Easy to digest" I said. "For fun" I said. I'll italicize the sentences so you can skip em). Carlo's main arch revolves around him learning to respect people with different boundaries. He was exploited and groomed into sex work at the age of 16 and though he's since escaped his abusers, he never got to process his trauma authentically before he and Al got together. Whereas Carlo's a touchy guy and doesn't really have a concept of personal space (since he wasn't allowed to if he wanted to have enough money to eat), he doesn't really get Al's touch aversion or Jack's trust issues and ends up making an ass of himself on multiple occasions. He always does his best to make up for it though, since he knows damn well how awful it feels to have one's boundaries invaded like that, and knows that just because he doesn't understand them doesn't mean they aren't valid. His secondary arch is about his reliance on substances (cigarettes and alcohol) to numb the pain of his past. With the help of his loved ones and a slap in the face courtesy of his own inebriated behavior, he starts taking steps to recover. My favorite thing about writing for him is how he reacts to Al's asexuality. Despite being hypersexual in the beginning (bc trauma) and still enjoying it as the book goes on, he's very supportive of Al and makes several points of letting him know he never has to give him anything he's not ready for, which culminates in one long chapter of Al getting the mushy gushy date he deserves bc fuck acephobes.

This project started off as individual vignettes to get me back into writing and evolved into a slice of life story about these three growing up and falling in love (platonically and romantically) with each other. There's a lot more to it that I didn't cover bc I don't wanna give everything away, but I have like no one to talk to about this and my first draft is almost done and I'm excited so. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings.

Hi lovely! Your WIP is AMAZING and I love it!! I decided to copy/paste it into a post (and tagged you in it!) so I could put the more sensitive topics under a cut. But PLEASE don't feel like I'm sensoring you because that is not my intention at all! It's just a precaution ♥

Your work is REALLY important! Especially when it comes to asexuality! I'm on the ace spectrum myself and there is absolutely a HUGE need for writing like yours in this world, spreading awareness and making it NORMAL! Thank you so much for your wonderful writing! :)

[thedoctorishereguys]

Humans Are Weird (failed pack bonding edition)

So I've binge read hundreds of humans are weird, humans are space orcs, and Earth is space Australia posts, and so many have aliens suggesting a pet for the human to pack-bond with. But. What if the human were allergic?

TW: an animal gets injured in this, but survives and is fine.

The crew of the dully named Exploration Vessel 08121995 were equal parts excited and nervous when they heard a human would be joining them. Neither feeling has to be explained; humans' reputation precedes them.

To prepare, the crew purchased and read the definitive guide: How To Live and Work With One or More Humans.

They paid special attention to the section on "sleep", "eating habits", "attitudes towards danger", "social norms (with the attached warning that no two groups agreed on what these are)", and "pack-bonding". From that last section, they learned it is commonly advised to have a small, domesticated "cute" animal on board for the human to bond with.

Reading further, they learned that the popular options were cats and dogs. Reading even further, they decided a cat, which typically displayed more independence and less reliance on the human, was a better choice for an exploratory vehicle.

Human Amelia ("call me Amy, really") joined the crew with no small fanfare. She was introduced to her crewmates and shown around the ship, assigned duties, and discussed possible research. After some hours, they showed her to her assigned rooms for the nightly human "sleep ritual".

She entered with a cheery "see you in the morning".

The noises they heard after were confusing. They had placed the cat in the rooms as a surprise, and, having never met a human (or a cat) before, were not sure what to expect. However, the violent "achoo" sounds interspersed with "get AWAY from me!" did not seem like pack-bonding in progress.

Finally, Human Amy emerged from her rooms, holding the cat in one hand and pressing a piece of cloth over her nose and mouth with the other. The crew was alarmed to see her eyes were leaking, and those "achoo" sounds continued. Even more alarmingly, she was knocked back a bit by every one. In between these achoos, she said, "can someone take this?"

One of the crew, a many-armed four-legged alien from near Betelgeuse that most called Carl (his actual name unpronounceable to any species lacking four separate voice boxes), said, "but Amy, we learned humans keep small mammals as 'pets' to bond with".

Amy held the cat out a bit more insistently, and finally Carl took it. She explained, "yeah, many do, but some of us can't because we're allergic." Seeing the looks of confusion, she explained further what an allergy was.

The aliens were astounded. Humans kept these small mammals even though some of them couldn't be around them? Human bodies could so violently reject substances it made them sick? But that rejection was the system that made them so fucking hardy overworking itself?

The science officer and xir underlings made a note to study their new human further, with her permission.

Much discussion occurred regarding what to do with the cat. None of the aliens had bonded to it, and many were in favor of chucking it out of the trash chute. Amy protested that the cat didn't do anything to deserve that, but admitted that as she couldn't even help to care for it, her opinion probably shouldn't count. Still, she seemed bothered and upset by the suggestion to just kill the cat.

In the end, the cat stayed, mainly because not one member of the crew was willing to upset the human by killing the fuzzy nuisance. They agreed next time they stopped at a station to pass the cat along to someone else.

Several months in, most of the crew had forgotten there was a cat around and remembered only when it was their turn to care for it in some way. The science crew had ended up seeing it the most, as they were (non-invasively) studying it to learn more of terrestrian biology.

The accident happened in the science lab. Another experiment, one that had nothing to do with the cat, exploded suddenly, causing glass shards and bits of metal to go flying, setting off a chain reaction. The aliens evacuated quickly but forgot about the cat. When it was safe to enter, they found it alive but making a pitiful noise - and no wonder, one of the metal pieces flying had entered its eye.

Human Amy helped one of the medics remove the piece - and the eye. They fashioned it a little eyepatch and the cat seemed as well as ever.

Some of the crew despaired, though. Now that it was injured, no one else would want the cat, and while they didn't want to keep it past the next station, they also still didn't want to risk upsetting their human. One of the science crew, an alien who looked remarkably like a blob of jello come to life (her name was Zar-a-i-helot, most called her Zar) suggested that a museum, university, or zoo may be interested in the cat. While not in great condition, in this part of the galaxy, so far from Earth, academics would jump to study Terran biology.

They reached their next station an Earth month later, cat in two of Carl's arms (while Carl had not bonded with the cat, the cat had with him). A human walking down the street stopped and went, "awww, he's adorable. Or is it a she?"

Carl confessed ignorance to the cat's gender, and name, when asked next. He explained their human was allergic, and none of the rest of the crew had thought to name him.

"so what are you doing with him now?" the human asked.

"Donating him to a scientific group, we hope."

"I mean, if you don't want him, we'll take him. We don't have a pet right now and this little guy would be perfect".

He took the cat gently from Carl and said, "I think I'll call you Redbeard". The cat was indeed red, but had no "beard" (a term Carl had learned referred to hair on the lower part of the face). "Like a pirate, you know, cause of the missing eye".

Carl returned to his crew and professed amazement at the human pack-bonding instinct - they even bonded to imperfect beings eagerly.

The guidebooks were duly updated, especially after Amy explained, "well, I mean, an injured animal makes us even more protective."

[hisfasttemper]

❛       do    you    plan    to    pretend    like    nothing    happened?      ❜

a silent plea for help//{OPEN STARTER}

| pietro & ANYONE|

*TW* IF YOU HAVE TRIGGERS AGAINST SELF H*RM OR SUBSTANCE ABUSE. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

feeling numb seemed impossible nowadays to pietro. the longing for just a crashing wave of haziness while the world slipped into nothing for a few sweet moments was all he desired recently. would that really be too much to ask for?

the cabinet beneath the sink in his the side bathroom within the speedster's bedroom answered that question.

it wasn't a lot at first. maybe one or two little white capsuled miracles to ease out the stress of the day. then two doubled. and then it tripled... pietro began to forget hours and hours of his days. before he knew it, weeks had passed and all he can recall was literally waking up repeatedly.

as usual, the avengers would call in a briefing for any upcoming missions. pietro, of course, always attended. happy to, even. however on this day-- with all of the team gathered around a oversized table, wanda by his side-- pietro made the decision to take some 'PRECAUTIONS' before attending. around six or seven precautions...

passing out cold on the floor during that meeting would lead him to regret that decision.

according to dr.banner, things weren't as serious as first believed. just an mild overdose. yet that was enough...where wanda was concerned. fakely, he promised the team he wouldn't take such a risk again.

his body weighing the combined weight of how heavy he imagined the hulk to be, pietro dragged himself to his room. met by the blurry silhouette of the last person he needed he needed near him right now. and possibly the person who cared the most.

"do you plan to pretend like nothing happened?"

it was questions like those that caused his reliance on the contents of the pill capsule bottles in the first place. he didn't want to hear it. not now. partly because he could barely hear anything. their muffled voice continued on, most likely a lecture, not that it mattered. he was too dazed to hear or care.

but through his dulled senses, pietro spotted his needed bottle in the hand of the person he least desired to face right now. no. you are not doing THIS. pietro swore not to use his enhanced speed on people he cares for, wanda being a main example. but he broke that rule quite quickly now.

and he took it from them . but on this strenuous occasion, his rage flickered through before his reason.

"get out," he hushed...at first. "GET OUT!"

[leviathren]

ENC 1102 Final Project

For my final project in my Introduction to Inquiry Based Research course, I am writing a blog post about the research I conducted this Spring 2020 semester. It’s school related so I’m posting it here! This is going to be a long one so grab a cup of tea or a plate of fruits and vegetables and strap in.

TW: brief discussion of body image, mental health, addiction

Social Media: The Effects of Growing Up Online, and How We Can Use it for the Better

Introduction

I used to struggle with self control when it came to being on social media. Social media blew up and became a huge thing for seemingly everyone to have right about when I was growing up and going through the critical developmental stages of adolescence. Myspace was just before my time, it had left its glory days before I had any social media. But then came Facebook. And then Instagram. And Vine, Snapchat, Twitter, etc. My generation was the first to experience having social media from a young age and all the way through our teenage years, and then finally reaching adulthood. I never had anything like social media before. I barely had a phone and any contacts to message before switching to a smartphone and then having social media accounts, and I think that contributed to me not knowing what healthy limits were. 

It came and went in phases. There would be a period of time where I would unintentionally spend hours on my phone every day, just scrolling through Instagram. I wasn’t using it in a meaningful way, like connecting with friends and family, I was just scrolling. Mindlessly, endlessly.

I realized at some point, probably in my early years of high school, that this was an issue. It wasn’t horrible, but I still was spending more time than I wanted on my phone, and throughout the years, I have become better at being mindful with how I consume and use social media, and I have noticed that I have become so much more present in general. I don’t know if this was directly because of the healthier relationship with social media I have now, or if it was just coincidence in timing. I was lucky that I wasn’t too negatively affected by social media, but many people have raised concerns on how it may affect our mental health, and I decided to look into it more and see if I could help even just one person with this.

Mental Health: Social Media as a Stressor

Social media platforms were created to connect us with our friends and family. That’s the “social” part of it. However, social media has become a place where people typically showcase the best parts of their lives. Some call this the “highlight reel” on social media. These snapshots of fleeting moments in our busy lives only show the internet what we want it to show. I am aware that there are exceptions though, such as spam accounts where people share their more vulnerable moments with a private following of their close friends and sometimes family, or social media personalities such as Trisha Paytas who share many vulnerable, not so picture-perfect moments publicly, but the average user doesn’t tell their friends and followers everything that’s going on behind the scenes. Therefore, the majority of posts don’t accurately portray our lives. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing - we all need boundaries and privacy - however, this can sometimes make users feel as if they aren’t enough, or that they aren’t doing enough.

Humans have a habit of social comparison. We do it naturally because it’s a way for us to “estimate one’s past and present social standings” as Tahir M. Nisar, an associate professor at the University of Southampton, wrote. Many people compare their own lives to the lives of others as a means to evaluate themselves and to measure whether they’re doing well or not (Nisar 55). This has been a generally known fact for a while, but when I conducted my own research via online survey, I asked the participants if they ever found themselves comparing themselves or their lives to those of others they see online, and 47.9% of them said “yes, often”, while 43.8% said “sometimes”, and a mere 8.3% said “no, never”. Comparing yourself to others is natural, and it isn’t always a bad thing, but for some it can become a dangerous rabbit hole.

Jeff Cain, an associate professor at the University of Kentucky, wrote that these comparisons “often result in envy, depression, reduced happiness, etc. because they perceive others’ lives more favorable than their own.”  I’m sure most of us have experienced this at least once before where we wish our lives were more like someone else’s without even realizing it. It can be a hard thing to not do! The problem here is that that can lead to us setting unrealistic expectations for ourselves, and then us being too hard on ourselves when we don’t reach that level. 

Some of the unrealistic expectations we may place for ourselves can be physical appearance. 8.3% of the participants in my survey said they often photoshop their appearance for social media, 10.4% said they sometimes do, 10.4% said they do but only rarely. This is one thing that needs to change.

A good sign is the rest (70.9%) said they never photoshop themselves. In recent years, body positivity has grown and become a more developed movement, leading the online community in a more positive direction. This is a great use of social media, using platforms to share positive, helpful messages to bring together a community and to spread awareness and knowledge of a particular topic.

Coping: Social Media Used as a Distraction

When I conducted my research, I asked the participants what the main reasons/purposes were that they used social media for, and the majority of them said something along the lines of “to connect with friends and family”, and many said they used it to pass the time, to stave off boredom. Sometimes, users will go on social media to distract themselves from negative emotions such as sadness, loneliness, anxiety, stress, etc. Although not a permanent solution, it’s a temporary relief, and this can be helpful. Sometimes, social media can be a distraction from important things though. I know I definitely get distracted from studying or doing homework by checking social media. I’ve already done it once while writing this, yikes. But don’t worry, it’s not all bad!

Ahmad Mushtaq, an academic Vice Chancellor at Alberoni University, and Abdelmadjid Benraghda, a professor at Universiti Malaysia Pahang, found that students mostly used social media to “improve their knowledge and information.” They found that social media was actually a useful tool in education, because it allowed students to find information easily and connect with peers and instructors.

In my research I asked if participants find that they get distracted by their phone and go on social media while doing tasks such as homework or watching movies, and a whopping 77.1% said “yes, often” while the remaining 22.9% said “sometimes”. No one said “no, never”. This may be connected to how many people find it difficult to focus. Using apps that don’t allow you to check your phone for a period of time can help reduce the amount of times we get distracted by social media. One of my favorites is an app called Flora, where you can grow a little tree for staying off of your phone for the chosen amount of time.

Addiction: Excessive Social Media Usage & Reliance

When we think of addiction, we often think of substance abuse, but it can also happen in areas such as social media usage. Within the millennial generation, substance abuse has actually decreased, but smartphone use has increased and continues to do so. Researchers believe that “those susceptible to addiction have simply shifted to a new drug: smartphones” (Cain 739). Cain also writes about how “neuroimaging studies show that Internet addiction...shows similar increases in activity in brain regions associated with substance-related addictions”. Several studies have indicated that as levels of depression and anxiety of an individual increase, they become more inclined towards social media addiction (Simsek 115). One study showed results of a “positive relationship between social anxiety and social media addiction” (Baltaci 78). Although my study was not nearly extensive enough to determine if any of my participants suffer from social media addiction, I did find that the majority of them spent 3 or more hours on social media a day. In fact, four of those participants responded that they spend 9 or more hours on social media a day.

One thing that many users have experienced is FOMO (the fear of missing out). I have experienced this myself, especially in middle school and early high school. A user who experiences FOMO may feel that if they don’t check their phone, they might miss out on conversations, like in group chats, or things like recent events, opportunities, etc., so it may cause them stress or anxiety if they don’t regularly go on social media. On the other hand, some people get stressed/upset when they do go on social media, because they see photos or posts in general from an event or get-together that they either weren’t invited to or couldn’t make it to. Because of these negative feelings related to social media, FOMO has been associated with unhealthy smartphone use (Cain 739).

That was a lot, so what do we do?

Ok, so I know that was a lot of information, probably too much for a blog post on tumblr, but since I wrote all that out anyway, what do we do with it?

Although there were many negative responses indicating that certain uses of social media had harmful effects on mental health, including studies and results that I didn’t mention, there were also results that showed that many people felt indifferent with social media, and it was sometimes even beneficial (such as the academic use of it). 

Those who spent longer amounts of time on social media tended to also feel more negatively when using it, and felt better when they used it less, so I would recommend monitoring your usage time and being careful of spending too much time on it. “Too much time” is very subjective though, so perhaps logging how you feel in relation to how long you spend on social media can give you a good idea of what a good amount is for you personally. Spending more time doing things with our hands/bodies, like physical activity or hobbies, can be very healthy ways of spending our time instead of being on social media. It can help distract us from the urge to check our phones, a distraction from a distraction if you will.

When it comes to content consumption, we all must be careful of what we expose ourselves to. Reducing or even completely cutting out certain content that stresses or upsets us can help tremendously. This can even mean unfollowing certain people who’s posts may make you feel upset, even if you know them personally, were friends at some point, or are just acquaintances. Even though it may feel awkward or even mean to do that, it might help in some cases.

Maybe you could relate to some of the things I wrote about in this post, maybe you didn’t relate at all, but I just want to thank you for reading all the way till the end, and I hope this helped share interesting information that can be useful to you.

[rosesjustdie]

( emilia clarke, 30, cis female, she/her,  adopted sibling ) Did anyone else just see ZOE WASHINGTON ? I hear for the WASHINGTON family they can be a bit CRAFTY & INSENSITIVE. But I also heard they can be STRAIGHTFORWARD & INVENTIVE. If you dare I hear they frequent CHITOWN PARK in their spare time when they aren’t being an PUBLIC RELATIONS SPECIALIST. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list !

Drugs TW, Death TW, Overdose TW, Kidnapping TW, Scars TW, PTSD TW, Violence TW, Stabbing TW, Shooting TW, Crucifixion TW

Full name: Zoe Chanel Washington

Age: 30

Height: 5′1

Sexuality: Hetero

Drugs TW, Death TW, Overdose TW, Kidnapping TW, Scars TW, PTSD TW, Violence TW, Stabbing TW, Shooting TW, Crucifixion TW

Born Zoe Chanel Carver on April 9, 1992, to Claudia and Augustus Carver, Zoe grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth though you wouldn’t know that looking at the woman now. Her parents owned Carver Corps, a massive energy company and when Zoe was born she became the sole heir.

Her parents in public were doting parents, loving their daughter and having her smile for the cameras. But that was the only reason they’d had a child was for that. Zoe was a poster child and when they were alone she was palmed off to a nanny. Zoe was to be seen and not heard by them.

The other thing people didn’t realise about the Carvers was their reliance on addictive substances. Opioids, cocaine, whatever they could get their hands on, Zoe’s parents were more often than not high. And their daughter saw everything that was going on in the house. They didn’t try to hide it from her.

One night their addiction turned out the way anyone who knew about it was sure it would. In front of their nine year old daughter the pair overdosed. By the time the paramedics arrived they were both gone. It was a big public funeral, close family friends offering to take Zoe in but they wanted the addiction to be kept a secret. Zoe convinced the bodyguard her parents had hired to protect the child to speak out about it. No one believed a child but they did believe this.

After a few months in the system Zoe was noticed by the Washington family and the tiny brunette was taken in and eventually adopted. She took the Washington name as soon as it was offered to her, much preferring to be associated with a family that wanted her for more than just being a show piece.

Zoe has never told any of her family or anyone really that she remembers every minute of the night her parents died. People tend to know that she was in the room but they believed that the child repressed the memory of it all.

As she got older Zoe learned more and more about the political world and it interested her enough to pay attention. She became particularly interested in the media side of things, being able to twist a story to be something that a party wanted to be seen and she knew that was what she wanted to do. Showing someone the side of the story that you wanted them to see? Well that she had first hand knowledge of.

Zoe studied politics at college and she was good at it, working through her internships and taking in everything she could before she got the chance to work with her mother for a little bit. She was good, and people were learning quickly that Zoe didn’t just get handed things because of her family.

She spread herself further, taking on jobs that would want her and that ended up being good for her. She managed to branch out her business and take on a couple of other PR specialists so they could keep themselves available to work with the best clients she could. If a client wouldn’t listen to her, she dropped them. When her mother died she wasn’t out of work, though she did take some time off to herself. This time though Zoe kept her blank face on, not wanting people to see that it did hurt her.

In January 2020 Zoe lost her mother to gang violence. She was there when the Vasile family crucified her mother and Zoe can vividly remember being pulled away from the scene screaming. She hasn’t spoken to anyone outside of her therapist about that day.

In June 2020 the Washington Gala was set to be the best Gala the Washington family had thrown, raising money for families in need and Zoe really thought she was prepared for the whole thing. Unfortunately the Vasile family struck again, this time Zoe found herself shot in the right shoulder.

A couple of weeks after getting out of the hospital after heading home from City Hall, Zoe was taken from the doorstep of her apartment. Held in complete isolation she was tortured in various ways that she will not tell anyone about, all with the one goal. The goal to turn her against her family.

Given back to the world on a cruise ship Zoe was feral, she didn’t know what was going on, all she knew was that there was an enemy working against her, and that enemy shared her last name. Seeing red she attacked where she could, cutting Zane and Sloan and stabbing another friend, before she was knocked out and brought back to shore.

Zoe woke up in a mental institution, still feral and wanting to destroy everything she could. After weeks of therapy she was allowed back out into the world, feeling somewhat like herself again.

At least until the Faust casino opened and out of the blue a security guard asked her to go downstairs. She agreed and with her uncle, Zane, by her side Zoe found out that the people who had taken her had also implanted a bomb into her neck. As soon as it was taken out she hid back under her mask of “I’m fine”.

“I’m fine”. The two words that Zoe uses now whenever anyone asks how she is feeling or what is going on. The truth of the matter is that she has burns all along her shoulders and down her arms and she obsessively covers them, long sleeves all the time. She also has nightmares every night and will not tell anyone about that either. She doesn’t like people worrying about her.

Zoe is a coeliac and dairy free. As a result of this and the knowledge that she is genetically likely to become an addict Zoe is a health nut. She is so pedantic about everything she puts into her body. This obsession is the other reason she is scared to become an addict, she knows she has an obsessive personality.

Wanted Connections

Old friends: People that Zoe grew up with or went to high school with or college with, give her some friends. The girl would stay in contact with the people she cares about and they could still have a great friendship.

Old hookups: Zoe has never dated anyone but she’s definitely lived the party girl life before. Give her some guys that she’s slept with once or twice and nothing more ever came of it.

A therapist: God the girl needs a therapist so if anyone wants to delve into that head go for it.

A first chance at more: Zoe has never dated anyone because she has this idea in her head that she isn’t worthy of being loved. Give her the first guy to really show her that she is.

Political connections: The girl works in politics so give her some connections that way. Old clients, media workers who deal with her press releases, anything that way really.

Personal bodyguard: this is a connection on the main but give the girl her personal protection. After the second Washington Gala to end in bloodshed she has accepted that she might need it. Braden

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with FELIPE CASTRO, who is TWENTY-EIGHT years old. He is often called FLORIZEL and is NEUTRAL. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

TW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE/ADDICTION

It was hard not to love him, and he was all the worse for it. His bambinaia fretted over his fate often, wondering what would become of a boy who won utter devotion with the smallest of gestures. Born for adoration, created to woo the world into submission, Felipe had no reason to consider the dark clouds ahead and focused most of his attention on flowers, instead. What right did he have to worry? By whose authority did he dare weep? His absent parents paid for every need met and every want fulfilled, and that was all he needed; he had the rest of Rome to love him. And love him, Rome did. In a city so irreverent and overcrowded, Felipe flourished. The city WORSHIPPED him; the entire sun was his to devour. It could overwhelm anyone, even a boy as resilient as Felipe. He craved admiration from the masses and the loyalty of all who loved him – especially his bambinaia. Even when he was well past the age of needing supervision, Felipe demanded that his bambinaia stay by his side. Your love means the most to me, he promised, I only need your loyalty. FOREVER.

For as long as she could, his bambinaia stayed. But she was of no use to a boy becoming a man, and when the time came, she laid a hand over his head, closed her eyes and prayed: Dio, may he love the world, for the world has loved him first. Felipe, with his eyes wide open and turning black with rage, waited until she met his gaze to CURSE her darkly, in a voice his bambinaia had never heard before. He could trace all his greatest sins back to this one night. Desperate for an escape from a city that wanted too much of his attention, Felipe traveled to Verona for a weekend alone. He had never been truly alone before; while his heart had once trembled with fear at the thought, it now yearned for such a SILENCE – a silence he found at the bottom of a bottle, the end of a line of powder, the comedown of a particularly ruthless high. One weekend turned to a week; a week became a month; a month became years.

To this day, Felipe cannot understand how he made the decision to forsake his education, forsake his parents, forsake everything about the life he’d led and embrace the streets of a stranger, darker city. The gods would have laughed at the thought. A boy as spoiled, as pampered, as BELOVED as Felipe, surviving among thorns and bramble? It was more than laughable, it defied fate and destiny itself. And yet, he survived. With his growing reliance on mind-altering substances and habit of saying yes to every opportunity, it was no surprise that Felipe fell into the crossfire of the war that defined Verona. For a long while, Felipe straddled the line between traitor and sneaky bastard well. He mishandled third-party deliveries and sold information for the right price – the HIGHEST price. His pockets were lined with gold, but it wasn’t long until both sides began to grow weary of his name. So he chose a new one, named himself Gabriele after his bambinaia’s favorite angel and ran to Rome.

He was still coming down from his last bit of ambrosia when he met Paola. Their love story was a great one, the kind he had been chasing his entire life. He loved her BLINDLY, as the world had blindly loved him. Yet still, Verona sang his name. When he received a call from an unknown number, Felipe understood that he would only ever belong in the city that held onto old grudges like promises from its BLOODTHIRSTY gods. He promised Paola it would only be one last assignment before he put it all behind him. He would never forget the trust in her eyes as she said goodbye. Bring me a souvenir, she had said. Knowing he did not intend to return, he had kissed her and promised, I’ll bring you the entire city. Was it his fault that the delivery was a trap, intended to PUNISH him for his crimes? Was he to blame for going into hiding to save his life? And tell me, he begged the gods, am I to be miserable forever because Paola came back for me? He received his answer in complete, wretched and holy silence. The boy who desired to hold the sun, to bask in its glow and be admired by all who dared to behold his loveliness – BANISHED. Such was his punishment. It was not until Mona plucked his phantom heart from the ground, held it in her hands and — against her better judgement, with heartfelt pleas on the lips of her most beloved, Omi — vowed to protect him. Your blood will be my blood, she decreed, and those who come for you shall suffer under my own blade.

PAOLA DAMASCO: Regret. Guilt and gratitude taste the same on his tongue at the sight of her. Once bound to the shadows, Felipe learned to move with the darkness instead of drowning in it. From the sidelines, he has watched Paola wrestle with Verona’s demons and, to his horror, join them. With Mona’s blessing, he ran to save her; in return, she cursed his true name and taunted him with the scars of his false one on her skin. Isn’t this everything he’s ever wanted: someone to follow him like he is a prophet and they are his disciple, someone to love him like he stands at the center of their universe? This is what they should have warned you about: someone who loves you enough to become a monster, and hate you for the terror they’ve become.

YAMAMOTO OMI: Safe haven. She is beautiful and she is worshipped for it, but that means nothing to Felipe; he has enough of that and more to feed him for a lifetime and still, his belly aches for something more substantial. Something of worth and value, something Felipe cannot name but knows Omi has. He’s known it since he first laid eyes on her in The Dark Lady. I won’t be your customer, he told her that night, but I want to know everything about you. Their story should have ended like this: Omi speaking quietly and fully-clothed, Felipe listening with his eyes closed, trying to understand the strength that radiates from her. Instead, their story continues with a gunshot; with Felipe dragging himself to the Dark Lady where she lived, where her gentle touch heals his wounds. I won’t be your savior, Omi says as he’s recovering, but I’ll be your friend. And I’ll keep your secret. But save him she did, and he owes his freedom entirely to her. You, he reminds her as often as he can, are the first friend I’ve ever had.

HAZEL ACCARDI: Loose end. He met them by chance, stumbled upon them like a lost man stumbles upon God when he is starved for hope. Felipe remembers thinking they were an angel, all of that hair surrounding their face like a halo. He remembers the two of them sharing the stories, full of accidents and tragedies, that brought them to Verona. Most of all, he remembers learning about their secret talent. When the Montagues and Capulets alike learned his scent and cast a bidding war for his head, Felipe went to Hazel to forge documents for his new identity. They are the only person in Verona who truly knows both Felipe and Gabriele, and it both terrifies and excites him. They can destroy him, yes — but they can also set him free.

ODIN BELLO: Hunter. Felipe has no enemies and no targets; but there are many who have claimed him as theirs, and Odin is the most impassioned of them all. How was Felipe supposed to know that a sizable chunk of the information he sold and the missions he disrupted targeted the same person, time and time again? How can he be helped if the Capulet captain who paid the price of Felipe’s sins never forgave, and never forgot? There are many who want to see his head on a stick, and he knows all of their names; but Odin is the one he fears the most.

Felipe is portrayed by KENTA SAKURAI and was written by MINNIE. He is currently OPEN.

[jaysen-vor-hee-hees]

A Living Being, or A Weapon? - a Ryn x y/n story (pt.1 ig)

Type: angst? sort of? it’s a mix of stuff but mainly angst i guess

Gender pairing: male x female (i can write a masc or non-binary version with Ryn, Vanté or ‘03 if anyone wants that :3)

cw/tw: gore, mentions of physical, psychological and mental abuse, restraints (not in the kinky way), mentions of death

basic synopsis: it’s your first night on the job. You’re a security member working at STS Laboratories, and you’ve been given the role keeping the newest subject, 0002, company. And it’s so.. different to what you expected.

Credits(?); STS Laboratories is sort of inspired by a mix of Cartaxus (This Mortal Coil series by Emily Suvada), The SCP Foundation (SCP Wiki), and very slightly Aperture Laboratories (Portal franchise) if you squint. At the time of writing this, i an listening to FNaF (Scott Cawthon) playlists, but it wasn’t the intention to make this any similar to it. If it is, then, just roll with it ig.

•———————————————————————•

“I’m sure you’ve heard enough about him- it, about it, around the facility” Helix sighed. “But, i’ll give you a brief rundown, just in case you’ve been told any tall tales.”

He brushes his auburn hair out of his eyes with one hand before sliding on his reading glasses, clearing his throat as he looked at his notes for the newest subject. “0002. Also will respond to ‘02 and ‘Ryn’, presumably it’s name. 0002 was brought to an agent’s attention after falling from a great height, laughing and then walking off as if it’s injuries did not affect it at all.

“We’ve had no past incidents with it, and it has appeared relatively friendly, but is still under 24/7 camera surveillance, just in case. From tests, we’ve gathered this much.”

“0002 is immortal through the reliance of a liquid like purple substance that it needs in half litre ‘doses’ twice a day and twice a night all 7 days of the week. We are still not sure what the substance is called. If 0002 doesn’t have these doses, it will be susceptible to death. 0002 can be injured, but it will not phase it.”

“0002 can also teleport in a glitching manner unless it is around anything highly magnetic. There appears to be no end to how far it can go. 0002 also can reality bend to get any object it likes, which is toned down to only specific objects through a process that is classified.”

“Anything else regarding 0002 is classified or undiscovered” he finishes, sliding off his glasses and putting the notes away in one of his labcoat pockets. “We are unaware of any of it’s interests, hobbies, etc. It’s your job to figure this out.”

You tilt your head, snickering softly. “If i knew i was gonna be tasked with babysitting a demon for $149 an hour i would’ve applied ages ago.”

Helix simply smiles. “Anyway” he says. “Generally also make sure to not be too active around ‘02. Take things slowly, so it can process it. You got everything?”

You nod. All things considered, you were a little anxious. But it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Helix pressed his card to a card scanner next to a door, the door labelled “0002”. Your nerves were heightened as you saw him.

He was shirtless, for whatever reason, messy brown hair at shoulder length, tattoos up his arms and neck, bound around his wrists, ankles and waist to keep him from leaving the room, littered with scars, scabs snd bruises, a few bandages caked with dried blood, you know, the standard “troubled but tough protagonist” sort of look.

He gave you grin full of razor sharp teeth, looking up at you with almost hypnotic deep blue eyes “Hey there, doll” he purred. “You must be the newbie.”

Helix sighed. “It might be a tinge flirty, but it’ll usually give it up in a little” he said. “Now, when you’re alone with it, and the door’s closed, the restraints will come off. Don’t worry about that. They just do that around a certain time of night. If you want to back out, now’s your only chance.”

You shrug. It’s practically just babysitting, and they hadn’t had any incidents with this one before. How bad could it be?

“I’ll be fine” you say with a small smile. You weren’t all that confident, but again, how bad could it be?

He nods, letting you step through. He mutters a “Good luck” before pressing his ID to the card scanner, the door shutting and locking. Soon after, Ryn’s restraints came off by themselves, as per protocol.

He got up off his knees, leaning back against the wall behind him. “So” he says with a soft grin.“You’re the newbie? I’ve never had a guard before, let alone one as pretty as you, doll.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall closest to you, opposite to him. “I’m not a guard” you respond. “I’m just here to keep you company, almost act as a friend.”

He snickers, tilting his head. “You, a friend to me?” he says. “You humans are too fragile for the likes of me, darling, but you can give it a go.”

You snicker. You couldn’t even say he’s racist, could you? It wasn’t that he was a different race. He was an entirely different breed. Heh, animal cruelty.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at you. “So, ‘friend’, why actually are you here?” he asks, looking at you with curious eyes. “Go on, i don’t bite.”

“I’m here simply to keep you company” you reply. You could only really tell him that much anyway. He nods slowly.

“And, tell me, y/n, why?” he says. “You could’ve picked any other job than this.”

You shrug. “These guys were so desperate for staff that I just had to take them up on it” you respond. “And hey, for $149 an hour, doesn’t seem too bad.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough.” He strides over, placing a hand on the wall beside you leaning in ever so slightly. “Now” he purrs, tipping your chin up with his spare hand. “I wanna see what makes you humans tick.”

You scoff and push him away. What the fuck? “Ryn, you need to chill” you scowl. He grins. Clearly this is the exact result he wanted.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He purrs. “Can’t handle someone as hot as me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You can’t just make moves like that five minutes after meeting someone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Technically, I can, because I just did” he responds with a sly grin. “But, whatever you say, boss.”

The next few hours are spent talking. There is small breaks and pauses as topics couldn’t be discussed any further, but soon conversation picked back up. Ryn seemed almost fascinated by you. And hey, you couldn’t blame him.

You grew closer with Ryn throughout the night, taking down mental notes here and there. You had to at least have something to tell Helix when your shift was over.

After around 5 hours passed, your shift was up. It was your job to put the restraints back on. At first, he was reluctant to let you, but eventually complied when Helix stepped in to fetch you. He almost seemed scared to not comply when Helix was around.

“All done” you say with a small smile once you finish up, stepping back. “So, i’ll be seeing you the same time every night.”

He grins softly, perking up slightly. This seemed to be good news to him. “Looking forward to it, newbie” he said.

[nrthwst]

#𝚗𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚠𝚜𝚝      :      an   indepdent   ,   selective   ,   18+   &   mutuals   only   ,   heacanon   based   &   canon-divergent   final   girl   /   starlet   au   pacifica   northwest   of   alex   hirsch's   gravity   falls   .   potentially   triggering   content   can/will   be   present   on   this   blog   ,   so   follow   at   your   on   discresion   .   triggers   that   will   appear   :         stalking   ,   murder   ,   abuse   (   mental/psycological/child   )   ,   trauma   ,   grooming   ,   mental   health   struggles   ,   toxic   family   life   ,   greed   ,   drug   use   &   more   .      all   will   be   tagged   as   ❝      insert   tw   here   tw*   ❞      .      filmed   &   adored   by   abi   ,   she/her   ,   20   ,   est   timezone   .   

    𝚊   𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢   𝚒𝚗   :      hiding   behind   a   mask   ,   accepting   that   you   aren't   to   blame   for   your   families   wrong   doings   ,   becoming   your   own   you   ,   feeling   worthless   ,   coming   to   terms   with   your   abusive   upbringing   ,   learning   to   love   yourself   &   accept   that   you   deserve   love   ,   emotional   reliance   on   alcohol/other   substances   to   dull   the   pain   ,   &   the   dark   sides   of   fame   .

rules   +   dossier   (   coming   soon   !   )         ‑      pinboard      ‑      playlist      ‑      promo      

[rosesdieinaweek]

Zoe Washington

Full Name: Zoe Chanel Washington

Age: 29

Sexuality: Heterosexual

FC: Elizabeth Lail

Status: RETIRED MUSE

DRUGS TW, DEATH TW, OVERDOSE TW, KIDNAPPING TW, SCARS TW, PTSD TW, VIOLENCE TW, STABBING TW, SHOOTING TW

LIKE THIS FOR A STARTER OR TO PLOT WITH ZOE.

born zoe chanel carver on april 9, 1992, to claudia and augustus carver, zoe grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth though you wouldn’t know that looking at the woman now. her parents owned carver corps, a massive energy company and when zoe was born she became the sole heir.

her parents in public were doting parents, loving their daughter and having her smile for the cameras. but that was the only reason they’d had a child was for that. zoe was a poster child and when they were alone she was palmed off to a nanny. zoe was to be seen and not heard by them.

the other thing people didn’t realise about the carvers was their reliance on addictive substances. opioids, cocaine, whatever they could get their hands on, zoe’s parents were more often than not high. and their daughter saw everything that was going on in the house. they didn’t try to hide it from her.

one night their addiction turned out the way anyone who knew about it was sure it would. in front of their nine year old daughter the pair overdosed. by the time the paramedics arrived they were both gone. it was a big public funeral, close family friends offering to take zoe in but they wanted the addiction to be kept a secret. zoe convinced the bodyguard her parents had hired to protect the child to speak out about it. no one believed a child but they did believe this.

after a few months in the system zoe was noticed by the washington family and the tiny blonde was taken in and eventually adopted. she took the washington name as soon as it was offered to her, much preferring to be associated with a family that wanted her for more than just being a show piece.

zoe has never told any of her family or anyone really that she remembers every minute of the night her parents died. people tend to know that she was in the room but they believed that the child repressed the memory of it all.

as she got older zoe learned more and more about the political world and it interested her enough to pay attention. she became particularly interested in the media side of things, being able to twist a story to be something that a party wanted to be seen and she knew that was what she wanted to do. showing someone the side of the story that you wanted them to see? well that she had first hand knowledge of.

zoe studied politics at college and she was good at it, working through her internships and taking in everything she could before she got the chance to work with her mother for a little bit. she was good, and people were learning quickly that zoe didn’t just get handed things because of her family.

she spread herself further, taking on jobs that would want her and that ended up being good for her. she managed to branch out her business and take on a couple of other pr specialists so they could keep themselves available to work with the best clients she could. if a client wouldn’t listen to her, she dropped them. when her mother died she wasn’t out of work, though she did take some time off to herself. this time though zoe kept her blank face on, not wanting people to see that it did hurt her.

in january 2020 zoe lost her mother to gang violence. she was there when the murder occurred and zoe can vividly remember being pulled away from the scene screaming. she hasn’t spoken to anyone outside of her therapist about that day.

a couple of weeks after getting out of the hospital after heading home from city hall, zoe was taken from the doorstep of her apartment. held in complete isolation she was tortured in various ways that she will not tell anyone about, all with the one goal. the goal to turn her against her family.

given back to the world on a cruise ship zoe was feral, she didn’t know what was going on, all she knew was that there was an enemy working against her, and that enemy shared her last name. seeing red she attacked where she could, an animal instinct just wanting to keep herself alive.

zoe woke up in a mental institution, still feral and wanting to destroy everything she could. after weeks of therapy she was allowed back out into the world, feeling somewhat like herself again. she hid under her mask of “i’m fine”.

“i’m fine”. the two words that zoe uses now whenever anyone asks how she is feeling or what is going on. the truth of the matter is that she has burns all along her shoulders and down her arms and she obsessively covers them, long sleeves all the time. she also has nightmares every night and will not tell anyone about that either. she doesn’t like people worrying about her.

zoe is a coeliac and dairy free. as a result of this and the knowledge that she is genetically likely to become an addict zoe is a health nut. she is so pedantic about everything she puts into her body. this obsession is the other reason she is scared to become an addict, she knows she has an obsessive personality.

Zoe is only interested in muses aged 30 and older.

[aspiring-immortal]

The Pyre of Transmortation

Drabble I made that is a qausi-sequel of sorts to this, but instead of a generic lich & apprentice, it’s Altzmyr and Renwick(oops it’s now fanfiction from Forgotten Realms lore).

This is a rather detailed thing describing Altzmyr’s process of becoming a lich, so of course there is a lot of uhm deathy suicide-like stuff in it.

It’s under the Readmore.

TW: suicide, death, pain, injury, ritual suicide-ish stuff.  Detailed descriptions of ritual suicide and pain and dying. 

"Have you completed the rites of purification?" Spoke the lich.

"Yes." The apprentice answered.

"Have you accepted the aid of the Demon Lord of Undeath, The Goddess of Darkness, The Drow Goddess of Undeath, The God of Death, The God of Murder, or any other malign entity that sponsors lichdom?"

"No, I have only sought aid from you and you alone." The apprentice's answer was one of great respect and admiration.

"Have you lived an ascetic lifestyle to prepare your body, mind, and soul for eternity to come?"

"Yes.  I have.  I have lived the past year as so, and have consumed the herbs to prepare my body for the transmutation."

"Have you settled your affairs, and know what you plan to do with eternity?"

"Yes, indeed.  I wish not to build hordes of mindless undead for nefarious deeds.  I wish not for conquest and war..."

The apprentice took a deep breath and continued, and as he did so, he rose up and held his head up high in triumph, "And I wish not to be a passive devourer of knowledge isolated from the greater world.  I wish to transcend mortality and time and be a force of good for eons to come.  I wish to lead my people...our people..to thrive and co-exist with the living."

If the lich could smile in pride, he would, so a great nod and the clapping of dry, rattling sticks that were his hand bones had to do.  

Altzmyr Tannerem, the apprentice of the centuries-old lich Renwick Caradoon, had spent a long time preparing for this moment, and now the day was here.  His arms felt heavy, his heart raced, and his breath shorter.

His pale pallor told of countless days avoiding the sun, but sometimes there was a fire in his amethyst eyes that one keen enough would recognize to be the eyes of someone who lived a great life of adventuring.  The man was short for a half-elf, and had thick black hair of his moon elf kin tamed into long braid.  His attire at the moment was ceremonial-a dark purple robe with gold trim and red satin silk on the inside-such an attire was unessisary, but this was an important ovcasion and the robe somehow felt appropriate for it, even more likely for the embroidered image of phoenix wings on the back.

The lich was completely skeletal, and would have been mistaken for an ordinary skeleton except for the tiny glowing orbs for eyes, his ornate robes, how well-maintained his bones were, and the raw arcane power that would have killed a living host. He had guided his apprentice for nearly half a century since he sought his guidance into the secrets of lichdom that shunned away the evils usually associated with it.  It is difficult for most to believe such a thing as a benign lich would exist, but it was one of the strangest secrets of the world that Altzmyr discovered in his quest to unite sentient undead who did not ally with evil.  

Many would have considered even the notion that a common ghoul or vampire rising to virtue to be a profound paradox, and Altzmyr had found quite a handful in his journey.  And now it was Altzmyr's intent to finally cheat death perpetually and join the ranks of the unliving himself.  He already had extended his natural lifespan through more fragile and high-maintenance means using duplicated bodies-which also meant he had already experienced death and resurrection a few times.  Yet the reliance in such methods had grown thin over time, so to finally cheat death he had to pass once more and remain in between the two.  Most who become liches hunger for power immediately and thus are quick to sell their souls to evil powers, but the virtuous or neutral lich must exercise great patience to be ready for the change.  The greatest patience occurred at least a year before the change where it is preceded by a spiritual lifestyle of minimal want or need.

The full moon cast its light upon the cold stones inside the monastery and upon the numerous candles strewn around the room-upon windowsills, across tables and upon candelabra, and was enough to turn a cold somber room to one of cozy warmth in light and temperature with honey-like aroma of beeswax despite the exorbitant number of candles that were their source.  Altzmyr stood on an arcanely ornamented rug and closed his eyes.  His hands reached forward blindly were Remwick's bony hands grasped.  A wave of anxiety coursed through him that felt like being hit with a weak lightning spell that coursed through his hands enough even for Renwick to feel it.  Yet despite those feelings, Altzmyr knew he was ready-if he waited for the anxiety to pass he would never fulfill the deed.  Altzmyr contemplated how the next time he would wake up, his hands would be as cold as his mentor's.  Renwick himself remembered his own anxiety over the transition, but in his case he had left it to facing imminent death in battle to decide when he would make the transition.

A whole five minutes passed in the moment of silence where Altzmyr listened to his last breaths, his last heartbeats, his last pulse, the feeling of wetness in his mouth and the warmth that coursed through his thin body.  Afterward he opened his eyes and nodded, he was ready to begin the ritual.  

Mentor and apprentice stood on opposite sides of a stone table on the narrower side, they were within arms reach of another.  The table held an ornate flask of a pitch-black liquid, and four brass bowls of other substances.  An ancient spellbook lay open on Altzmyr's side of the table and then his lips began an incantation.  His mind concentrated on the weave were his hands reached out to pull magic from and within himself, his knowledge and will shaped the mana with gestures and incantations according to carefully planned structures and numerous commands.  These incantations manifested into intricate glowing shapes and symbols that wove in and out of his own body and the contents of the flask.  Renwick watched the procedure unfold to watch out for errors and to assist the flow of mana around.  

Altzmyr's eyes began to glow a bright magenta as the mana was commanded into his body were it would begin to prepare his flesh for preservation.  He would command it to control and inhibit decay and induce desiccation, to withstand the oncoming flood of necrotic power that would soon kill him, and be open to the transition to undeath.  The mana then latched onto his very soul, and then made a circuit with a large beautiful purple gemstone engraved with arcane power within, nestled in a gold fitting that made it appear as if ferried in the back of a phoenix.  

He turned his attention to four bowls of materials laid around the flask.

"Like this dried strawflower, shall I be preserved for all time."

He used his mage hand to guide a handful of dried strawflower petals into the flask.

"Like the dragon, shall I be powerful, but wise."

He lifted the handful of shimmering dust from another bowl with his magic.  It was the powdered scale from an ancient silver dragon bestowed to him.  He siphoned this into the flask.

"Like the diamond shall I be a conduit of great magic.”

He guided a powdered diamond into the flask.

“And like the phoenix, shall I be resurrected upon destruction and my soul an eternal flame.”

He even more carefully guided the last powder-a tiny pinch from the ashes of a phoenix, donated and in an amount harvested that would not take away from the phoenix.  

The concoction hissed and boiled.  Within were a myriad of other ingredients carefully prepared and some that had taken Altzmyr to far away lands and high mountain tops to find.  They included deadly toxins from the mouths of nagas, herbal preparations of hemlock and yew, resin from trees used to make lacquer, and even the blood of an evil being purified in holy water.  There were many other bizarre constituents, but none required the unspeakable evil that the brew beings like Orcus instructed to their acolytes.  The final five ingredients were the activation of all of this work and preparation.

The fifth and final activation component, was a few drops of his own blood.  He took a silvered knife an ran its blade across a wrinkle in his palm, where the blood oozed out and seeped down his pale hand and into the flask’s mouth.  He used his magic to carefully administer just eight drops into it, where they ran down like hot red sealing wax about to make the final seal on the poison.

With his bloodied hand he held the vessel that would soon take his soul, the large purple jewel set on a phoenix’s wings, and then with his other hand he lifted the flask up from its onyx pedestal.

He gave a deep sigh and looked at his mentor’s face.  Perhaps his own face someday would be just like that-a dry skull, but then Altzmyr reminded himself it would be that way anyway.

Renwick nodded.

Altzmyr breathed deeply, closed his eyes and held the deadly elixir into his lips.  It smelled noxious, like the burn from a necrotic blight but mixed with a bizarre purity from the airs of a higher plane.  A clash of ideals and forces, of death but hope and continuance, and mixed all together was a mote of potential eternity, of great power and immortality, of blessing and woes from such a bizarre existence.  His hand shook slightly as he took in the scent of what he was to be, of what he had worked hard, ages spent in magical study, but ages spent leading his people, ages spent in council, and ages watching the world and time pass, ages consorting with other immortal beings and ages spent shaping and being active in the world when he wished, ages spent on time on his own terms and his own pace.

He consumed the poison.

It flowed down his throat like a nasty bitter medicine and tingled and numbed its way down into his gut.  A small enchantment of the bottle ensured not a drop was left behind, as the entire substance pulled the last minute traces of itself down with the flow.  Altzmyr could feel the necrotic power bond into his body, slowly starting to pull his body toward death as it pooled in.  

He finished and set the bottle and gemstone down upon the table.  The arcane light settled inside his body and thus his eyes stopped glowing.  He faced his mentor and took a light bow with his arm across his chest.  Renwick bowed back in equal measure.  Altzmyr took a deep sigh, of both the anxiety and of completion, of going past the point of no return, of a certain peaceful finality not like the end of a life well lived, but of an accomplishment greatly succeeded.  

Renwick walked around the table and held his apprentice’s wrists, then his upper arms.  At first Altzmyr found this bewildering, but then he was hit with massive boulder of dizziness and he started to have trouble keeping his balance.  He was dying, and the feeling of dying was still frightening yet he had felt it before.  Renwick carefully guided him across the room.  Each step became heavier and harder to maintain, he started to feel his limbs become number and number with each second, his vision blurred, his breaths became shallower, his heart raced and screamed its final beats.  He came to a soft bed and collapsed like a weight upon the mattress as his whole body screamed and cried in a massive wave of pain, of his very organs gasped and ached for dear life right before they were mercifully silenced.  Within the massive rush of pain there was a small and very welcome interruption-he could feel his mentor's hand around his, and he squeezed tighter and tighter; another comforting hand stroked his profusely sweating forehead.  He felt like he was burning inside and out, as if thrown on a funeral pyre, and within was a fire that spread and seared his whole body, all he could do was scream, and scream he did until his lungs and throat shut down and silenced him-only his bursting tears could express the raging fever within.  Necrotic energy coursed through his nerves and veins and across guts and membranes, permeating through every fiber of his being, destroying the very life of them and replacing it with something seemingly unnatural yet powerful.  His final living moments then came to an abrupt calm, and washed his mind with a strange and restful peace.  He smiled lightly, not sure how he could even do it because he could no longer feel his face, yet he did.  

From the outside his body didn’t seem different after the fever died down.  Renwick recalled when he too had felt his final living moments and the stages of the process, he also had flailed and screamed upon the death of his mortal life, and saw once more what happened with his apprentice-yet there was little he could do save to be there for him and provide a sliver of comfort.

Altzmyr closed his eyes which ceased functioning naturally. His mind became emptied save for a peaceful, overwhelming tranquility, like he was floating in a void, not a cold empty, endless void, but a gentle, comforting one until he drifted out of consciousness.

His dead body started to leak out the warmth it once made, his skin gradually became even more pale.  Within, the carefully laid magics went to work transmuting his flesh and ferrying his corpse to undeath.  Renwick laid the phylactery upon his heart, where it would forge its indomitable bond with his soul.  

The natural life force of Altzmyr Tannerem had passed away, but his remains would be the stage and prime material for his resurrection and transformation into something greater than he once was.

Eight days later, a new lich awoke upon the bed.  His body was like the recently dead, still flesh and skin, still recognizable but gaunt and pale and preserved within.  His eyes had a subtle glow as they functioned differently.  He awoke to no breath, no pulse, but still felt a need to stretch his undead limbs, which he did so, and as he did he released a rush of air from his dead lungs and his arms and legs stretched out, his torso lifted in the air and his body was reborn with a new kind of life.  A surge of energy filled his body and he felt like he could just fly off like a newborn phoenix.  His phylactery was set on a table nearby and he could intuitively sense it.  

Renwick was delighted to see what Altzmyr had become, another of the fabled liches of good heart and great wisdom, so sorely needed among the ranks of the undead as guide and counselor.  

The old lich embraced the new lich and both held each other tight.

[meddlesome-wayfarers]

Drugs mention TW

Most sorcerers I imagine have done drugs in their time, though my characters have no reliance on it. Anton enjoys occasionally smoking weed, and has a bong in his closet with other misc. things he has no other place for.

Hopeless really is very neutral on the subject entirely, but experimented a bit with acid and mushrooms in the 60s- the hallucinations are. Interesting, but it's not really worth the time and effort one must go to to get a hold of them.

Solomon generally distrusts them and didn't enjoy his experimentation with them. 0/10 would not recommend.

Bofur has the occasional pipe weed which is sometimes the reason behind his lax and cheery disposition. Not as often as one might think so.

Ori isn't much a fan of drugs- pipe weed or otherwise. Though he tried it before when Dori wasn't looking.

Coraline will experiment when she's older (late teens/early 20s) and while she won't have a bad trip necessarily, the resulting feeling will remind her too much of the Other World and she won't find any interest or enjoyment in them anymore.

Hope has only the faintest interest and weed, but will most likely stay drug-free her entire life.

EDIT: Johnny has only tried weed, and will try it if offered, but does not seek it out. The Ghost Rider has no need nor want for mind altering substances.