Insanity - Blog Posts

Hero commission: Deku, are you aware that you're mother is in a mental hospital?

Izuku: *laughing* really? It worked? *Giggling still*

Hero commission: uh.. what?

Izuku: oh! I've been trying to make her go insane since I was 10! *More intense laughing*

Hero commission: ..that's, that's not good...

Izuku: I guess you could say me 'haunting' her really pushed her over the edge!

*very manic laughing*

I change so frequently there's no point

i was gonna make like a "about me" pinned post so my mutuals know me better but like.... i also like being mysterious.... like you don't know me lmao loser.... but also i feel mean

My friends and I talk too much shit sometimes...

Amber:Alex, can I kill Brianna as well for her memes?

Me: YOU CANNOT STOP THE MEMES! i SHALL NEVER DIE!!!

Amber: I am the reaper and I will kill you and take your soul.

Alex: I am a psycho and there will be blood, suffering, laughing, and slaughter.

Me*shouting*: I don't have a soul! And who the fuck do you think you are trying to kill! I've killed gods and destroyed universes, Fucker! Fucking come at me with your weak ass reaper self!

Me*in a calmer voice*: Have fun, Alex. Save some meat for me when your done.

Alex: There will be enough meat for all.

Me: Cool.

Birthday spread for @wiseseamonster

People are so freaking talented

Zhao Zhao (Chinese, b. 1982)

Constellations, 2021-2022

Embroidery on silk

"it was like something cracked open inside of me, not unlike a watermelon, cool and soothing sweet. I always thought insanity would be a dark and bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it."

- Kathryn Stockett, The Help

The curves of my body drive you insane. Each post brings you closer and closer to bowing down to a true goddess

$ubmit $erve $uffer

too many times I've been asked "what's the matter, what's wrong with you?", "why can't you be more normal?" I don't know why, I don't know how to explain me and how I see and feel things... but this came to me in the midst of a very intense daydream of despair. And it just clicked in my head. This is why, it's all I have, it’s all I can say... There's no other way to explain it... 

Day 20: Breakable

All that was (Part 3)

What was once my hope is now my fear 

 Questioning all I once saw pure 

 It has become corrupt and harmful

 I attempt to run but I can't evade 

 What sustains me now hunts me down

(More to come soon: I hope you are enjoying these pieces)

Plastic mannequin city

A short horror story I wrote a while ago:)

Word count: 849

TW: Blood, insanity, body horror

As artificial light enters the shop, I start to get ready for the people who will be visiting soon.

I hang the new clothes on the plastic hangers on which they're supposed to be and clean in and around the store. Most of the clothes here are made of polyester, nylon or acrylic.

"We will open soon." I hear my colleague whisper in my ear.

I nod in response and help out with putting out the plastic signs.

As the store slowly starts to get flooded with customers I take my place behind the counter and finish some more chores before someone comes to me to buy something.

After a good few minutes some come to pay for the clothes they deem fit to their bodies.

"Do you want to pay with card?" I ask.

"Do you need a bag with it?" I ask after.

"Do you want the receipt?"

Some of them don't like the questions and get annoyed, asking me not to ask them. Unfortunately my memory isn't good enough to remember who asked who. After a long time, their grey faces have become nothing but a blur in my dreams.

They all look the same after all.

The faces of mannequins are difficult to remember after all...

Every time I scan something the cash register makes an annoying bleep, one that keeps getting more and more annoyed the longer the day continues on, making me thankful for the mask I wear.

A client thinks I'm doing my job wrong and swears at me. I've been working here for a while now, so compliments are hard to come by.

I have a few colleagues who do get many, they look a lot like the customers, other colleagues usually leave soon after starting.

I wonder how long I can hold out...

A couple of hours later I swap places and start working more throughout the store, it's a big one, but I will manage.

I have to...

Customers with their plastic grey faces come to me for questions now.

With their long thin bodies they ask me how much something is, if we have something in another size or even if something makes them look fat.

That last one always surprises me, their plastic bodies all look the same.

They're taller than me.

They're tinner than me.

They're much more beautiful than me.

Is this their way of calling me out?

Do they like asking me these questions in order to mess with me?

I've had enough of that by my colleagues already.

I get sent to the storage room.

Did I do something wrong?

Did I make a mistake I didn't know of?

Or is there something that really needs to be done there?

Please just let it be that!

I turn on the light, it's one for a rather big storage. Unlike everything outside, this light is powered by gas and it's old, very old.

The shadows this light creates always scare me a bit.

The shadows look almost like the mannequins outside.

They look down on me condescendingly.

They judge me.

Their glares are so cold they send me shivering.

I start unpacking boxes, one after one, I do it as perfectly as possible.

I don't want to lose this job.

Suddenly the knife I'm holding for the boxes glides into my hand.

I wince out of pain and am just able to stop myself from cursing.

Thick, dark red drips onto the ground, staining the white plastic floor with the fluid.

A dark thought enters my mind: Perhaps in order to overcome my fear, I should become it.

I look down on my quivering hands.

Could I replace them to become like them?

Could I replace my skin and have a plastic layer instead?

To have no eyes, no nose and no mouth.

To be perfect, just like them.

Would it hurt or bite as the hot plastic would creep up my fleshy arms and legs.

Would I feel pain at all after the procedure and be perfect?

Would I be able to join them after it and be able to get just as many compliments and love?

But then again in all truth, I don't like their perfection.

Their perfection is one of arrogance.

In fact, I think I might even hate it.

I've tried so hard to become like them for such a long time.

I wear a mask to have my face look like them, I skip my lunches in order to become thinner like them.

But all of it...

All of it is for nothing.

It doesn't matter how hard I work, no one will ever accept me.

No one will ever care.

I shouldn't become like them to overcome my fear, I should become something far worse.

Something only I can be, something they can never be.

The floor beneath my feet seems cracked all of a sudden, cracked on the place on which I am standing.

The Gaslamp flickers approvingly, like it tells me to do what I want to do.

I don't remember the last time someone or something said something nice to me or even approved of an idea of mine.

But this lamp, the only real one in this entire building does.

I drop the mask and it shatters into a thousand pieces.

I love the noise it makes as it hits the ground.

Will they make that noise too?

I look down to the object in my hand.

I wonder what color they would bleed.

23:37

Here is another short horror story I wrote:)

TW: Gore, eyegore

How long has it been now?

5 years?

Or 15?

I honestly can't remember.

But I do know that it has been a while.

I really don't know where the time went since I started working at this hospital.

I'm a doctor here.

Not too good, but not too bad either.

Average really.

Really average.

But even so, seemingly needed.

Many people who start working here leave not too long after, but I stayed.

"Are you still feeling up for it? The night shift, I mean?"

The voice of the hospital director takes me out of my head.

"Sure." I mumble.

He turns his back to me: "Great! I knew I could always rely on you."

I nod and leave the room.

I am a bit tired, but some more coffee will probably get rid of that feeling.

Right, back to work! I think to myself, a bit less energetic than I had hoped.

I'm usually the one who gets the shifts the others can't do.

Though I really could have seen this one coming.

And working overtime has become rather normal.

As I quickly drink from my small cup of coffee, I rush to the room I need to go to.

While I pass two nurses on my way there I catch a few words.

"Is he doing it again?"

"I think so, maybe he should just leave."

"Yeah, or there might be more mistakes than usual."

I know that they are talking about me and I want to turn around to tell them that I can hear them, but stop myself just in time.

It doesn't matter anyway, if I say something, it won't change anything.

I really need to get going.

I do my shift like usual, I rather take my time with each patient then go fast through my list. This does unfortunately cost me my break, but then again I usually skip those, so it doesn't matter.

Time ticks by slowly and before I know it, the darkness has swallowed the outside world whole, only leaving some lights.

As I enter one of the patients rooms I greet them and take a seat next to the bed.

While listening to their problems, my attention suddenly goes over to the tv.

The pale blue light shows a news reporter.

The words 'URGENTS NEWS' in red light attract my attention.

Something about a virus? If I get it right.

"Doctor? Are you still listening?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. What were you saying?" Embarrassed I look through the list, avoiding eye contact, they luckily continue.

When I've listened to everyone in the room I get up and ready myself to leave.

I turn around one last time.

Wasn't there a tv in the room?

Maybe someone took it away...

Walking to my next stop I can suddenly hear others whisper.

"It was all his fault right?"

"That his patient died? Yeah, it is."

"That's awful."

"I wonder who is going to be next."

"If you ask me, he really failed his job as a doctor."

"Why do they even allow him to continue this work?"

I clench my fist, I really should just ignore it, but it's just too difficult now.

When that accident happened, they didn't do anything to help me or to stand by me.

They only use me to not get blamed themselves!

My thoughts don't matter and the whispering continues, getting only meaner, cutting deeper into my skin.

"Oh, will you please shut it?!"

I ask angry as I turn around.

But there is no one.

The whispering has stopped too.

Do I hear someone walk away?

Never mind, I should get back to work.

As I enter the next room, I'm greeted by an older man who is still awake.

I take a seat next to his bed and start our conversation.

After a while I suddenly notice that something has appeared on his right cheek.

"What's that?" I ask pointing at it.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks, a bit frightened from my seriousness.

I lean forward to take a closer look.

It looks red and swollen.

There is a strange stripe.

Suddenly it opens.

It's an eye.

It looks at me.

It stares into me.

It judges me.

It calls me a failure.

Then I remember what I had seen on the tv before.

A virus.

This must be it.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" The man asks, shaken.

"Don't worry." I say without looking away from the eye in his cheek.

"You will be in need of another examination."

I try to stay as calm as possible and rush him to the ER.

I call over some of my other colleagues who say they will come help me soon.

"What's going on?" asks the man with panic in his voice.

"You're sick." I say calmly

Suddenly my vision changes, it's almost like watching an old movie too close to the screen. My senses are gone.

The doctor notices the spreading of the eyes.

"I need to stop it, immediately." He mumbles as he takes the scalpel from the white table.

Calmly he lowers it closer to the biggest eye.

"I just need to remove it."

He knows that he should wait for the others, but they are taking their sweet time to get there.

"W-what are you doing with t-that?" The man almost starts to cry.

"Don't worry, I will save you." The doctor answers with a kind smile.

The scalpel gets closer and closer.

With one swoop he takes out the eye.

Blood flies around the room coloring it from white to red.

He can't hear his patients screams of anguish and just continues removing the eyes.

After a while his patient doesn't move anymore.

Did he fall asleep?

The door opens and the doctor's colleagues enter.

"W-what the hell happened here?" One of them asks in a trembling voice.

"We have a virus." The doctor answers calmly: "I just saved his life."

"Saved his life? You killed him!"

"No, he is just asleep for now."

One of the others steps forward to the patient.

"His eyes have been removed, why did you do it?" As he looks up, the doctor sees it.

His colleagues have been infected too!

There is another eye in her neck.

It needs to be removed immediately!

The doctor quickly moves close and slashes it out, she gurgles for a bit and then falls to the ground into a puddle of her own blood.

His other colleagues scream and try to run, but the doctor is faster.

"Don't worry, I forgive you from whispering about me. I will save your lives as well."

After the successful operations the doctor moves to the front desk, the people behind the desks aren't people anymore.

Their many eyes stare at him.

One of the monsters screams and the doctor looks at the red trail he has been leaving.

They hit something and an alarm goes off.

The lights turns red.

They must be spreading the virus!The doctor thinks.

He quickly runs at them, slashing their vitals. Removing some of their eyes.

It doesn't take long for more monsters to appear, these are even more Grotesk and have even more eyes than the others.

They try to grab hold of him by his arms, making him drop the scalpel.

But it's not enough to stop him completely and so the doctor runs away.

Hallway after hallway, it's endless.

They won't be able to find him.

They won't be able to infect him.

The hallways get darker and darker and a monster that was chasing him is getting behind.

It's time to hide somewhere, the doctor decides.

Quickly he opens the first door he sees and rushes inside.

He locks the door behind him and waits for the monster's noise to pass.

"You won't last long this way." An old creaking voice behind him suddenly says.

The doctor turns around and peers into the darkness.

It takes a couple of minutes for him to get used to it.

But then he sees.

In the room, on an old chair, sits an even older lady awaiting him with a smile.

Unlike the others in the building, she seems strangely normal.

Did she flee here? The doctor wonders.

Then he changes his attention to all the clocks in the room.

Has this room always been here?

He couldn't remember.

Some of the clocks are new, others are old.

Some digital, some have hands.

All of them seem to stand still on a certain time, yet all different.

12:03

18:49

11:55

09:12

No, on closer inspection, they're all broken.

"Do you want to know where you are?" the old voice asks him in a familiar voice, yet he does not recognize it.

Where had he heard it before?

"Who are you?" he asks, but she doesn't seem to feel like answering him.

Instead the old woman laughs: "In this room are the people who took their last breath. These clocks show the last time they did. Some are long gone, yet some just a minute ago." With this she smiles at the doctor, it's a joyless and cold smile. "This hospital has quite the history." She ends.

He doesn't understand, what does she mean with all that?

"Well, talking in third-person is the last thing that will help you understand the situation you got yourself in."

"What the hell?" My senses suddenly return violently back to me, my vision is back to normal as well.

I look down at my hands, even though it should be too dark to see, I can see the blood. I can smell it. I can feel it.

It didn't happen.

It didn't happen!

IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

NOTHING DID!!

"You added to this pile of clocks here." The old woman smirks, but as I look up at her she isn't old anymore.

She is a child.

She looks like she came out of an old picture.

"Did you really forget about me?" She asks, moving her head slightly sideways.

I don't remember her.

Why don't I remember her?!

"That's unfortunate." She says as if reading my mind: "But it won't save you from what you did."

I frantically try to find the light-switch.

I can hear people in the hallway, they must be searching for me.

Suddenly the girl, now a middle-aged woman, swings an old hand watch in front of me.

23:37 it says.

Now I remember, 23:37, that was my reason for doing the work I did.

Wait, what time is it now?

The lights turn on, I wasn't the one who did it, but it's one of the former monsters.

I'm in the morgue.

There are no clocks in here.

"You're coming with us pal!" the intruder yells at me.

I sigh and look at my watch.

It's 23:37.

Perhaps it is my time too.

White hell

Here's another short story I wrote.

I hope you like it:)

TW: Gore & psychological horror

It's all white...

The room I'm in and the rest of this building is probably also all white.

I don't know where I am.

This cold blinding white, everything is this pale color, every object, all the furniture, every.... Everything.

I'm all alone, in this unending place with only one color.

At first, I didn't see it as much of a problem, I am quite introverted after all. Put other people in this room and I would find it all the more terrifying.

But now, I've been here for hours, there are no windows or exits. Or at least I haven't found any.

I have no idea how late it is or what part of the day it could be.

It might be in the middle of the night or perhaps in the middle of a warm sunny day. Of course I wouldn't know, I'm stuck in this building. This building that's completely white on the inside.

There is barely even any shadow.

There is constant white light.

I wonder what would happen if I stay here for too long.

Will I go crazy?

Some time later...

It has been long... or at least I think so.

How long? I don't know.

I think probably a couple of weeks, maybe a month, but I could be very wrong, so maybe just a couple of hours?

I've no clue.

The white light makes me feel cold, not that I'm-in-danger kind of cold. But just an inside kind of cold.

Like my heart froze or it's just pumping cold fluid throughout my body.

I wonder if I'm still alive.

My hands are still warm though, so I might be.

I noticed that sometimes when I close a door and quickly open it again, that it wasn't the same room as before. On a couple occasions, the furniture will be on a wall or even the ceiling.

I've tried breaking through walls, but it doesn't matter, I'm not strong enough.

An unidentified amount of time later...

I found something!

Not an exit unfortunately, but something with color.

It's a pool, a swimming pool in this boring white building.

The water is a calm, light blue.

So I jumped in...

And got out disappointed, it had all turned white under water. Just as white as the rest.

The blue was just an illusion, a dream. Just a small wish for normality in this one color hell.

The white hell, huh... sounds pretty funny, also quite fitting.

Later...

I've made a friend!

My first friend in forever!

The most beautiful friend one could ask for.

It's a small blue butterfly and this time, the color is no illusion.

The one thing that totally made my day.

My friend is stuck here too, so we work together to find a way out.

It is a very good listener and goes with me wherever I go.

I still don't know what name I would give my friend, but is it really necessary? Who am I to decide the name of a creature so beautiful. I'm terrible at naming things.

Its wings are a warm kind of blue, like an ocean during summer looked at by the bright sun.

We eat together and I talk to it, I need someone to talk to anyway. I will definitely go insane if I don't.

More time passed

I don't know what to do.

I hate myself.

I killed my friend.

My one and only true friend in this white hell.

Poor little butterfly.

He didn't want to come with me anymore, so we got into an argument. He said some really nasty things to me and... and I ended up hitting him.

Oh God, what have I done...

With one small thump of my hand, he was no longer...

I cried.

I cried for, I don't know how long.

I mourned him.

And as I wanted to give him a proper burial in the white sand, I noticed something.

My friend had given me one last gift. Did he forgive me?

A new color.

Red.

It came out of him, just a little bit.

Just a small drop.

A beautiful crimson red.

I am so lucky to have had a friend like that.

Date unknown:

I have found more red.

More than before, now when I enter a room there is red splashed on the walls. Maybe even on the ceiling and floor. I don't know what up or down is anymore. I just move from box to box. Everything is the same. Same old. Same old.

The red gives me warmth, it's the same crimson color like my dear friend gave to me.

And when I stay too long it starts turning brown. That's pretty cool!

I didn't know it could do that!

It's pretty.

I open my eyes, I still haven't escaped the white room. I'm still here, trapped by cloth so I can't move. Still alone.

There is nothing else then this white hell.

Lunatic Luv

You'll surely overthink

If you try to understand me

A paradoxical chaos

Far beyond comprehension

Look at me through blinded eyes

Loose sanity in my undertow

You have to leave your mind behind

To scrutinize my heart and soul

Tango going buckwild and trying to steal Scars hat was so funny to watch so here I am to draw it.