#dissasociation tw

[mikka-minns]

Okay so im gonna share my headcanon on why kuai liang didnt react to hanzo's death with much emotion (this isnt a theory, and its the opposite of Canon, i Just need to cope. Fuck off nrs, u suck! Fuck Canon too!)

Kuai dissociated when Scorpion told him Hanzo is dead.

He couldn’t proces the Thought of losing another person he loved(platonicly or romanticly, your choice). He disconected from and questioned reality. Felt like what is happening isnt real. Didnt help that Hanzo's past self was right in front of him. And this happened to him so many times, losing people he scared about, ever since he was a small child, that he didnt know how he should feel. Should he be used to this? Cuz he sure wasnt.

He couldn’t belive Hanzo is realy dead for quite some time and when he couldn’t deny it anymore, it broke him.

Then he went to the netherrealm and found him and brought him back and they lived happily ever after

Source? Shut up, Let me be in denial and happy, please.😭

[crows-talking-place]

honestly the way chip reacts to other people's distress is actually super telling i cant lie

like when gillion gets upset about being lied to in ep 11, chip is affronted. offended. because with price never had the luxury of truth, he had to work out what was real and what was a game. he doesn't realise lying isn't usually part of a healthy relationship.

and llike. when ollie is possessed by the existential dread demons fighting ensa's house in ep 96, and is VERY CLEARLY not ok in the slightest, chip doesnt seem to understand. like at all. he takes this as a completely normal thing to happen. this tells us that he has not only experienced this before in some way, but also that he has ENOUGH experiences with completely shutting down that he sees this as Just Another Day.

i think we sometimes forget how fucked his past actually is

[anthropodermic]

my memory is fragile and foolhardy. i look back at endless gaps and feel that something is consistently terribly wrong. certain things make me forget. certain things make me tense up, freeze, hide away. it's like i can't control it. and now, now that things are different, things are just a bit better... i still respond similarly. i still shut down. i'm still broken. i hate it.

[juniper-soo]

this was not how she wanted this night to go.

her teeth sunk into her knuckle (her version of chewing on her nails) as her mind both was filled with hundreds of thoughts and a deafening silence all at once. she knew she was being irrational, difficult even. but every time the thought of letting someone else to become privy to her, the real her, the her that still felt the scars that had been carved into her throughout her childhood, she wanted to run.

"I do." her voice was soft, yet the adoration behind it was undeniable. "I do want you. it's just...there's so much at stake if I mess it all up." the mention of her last relationship almost made her wince; the thought hurt she had already caused, fueling the want to continue to leave her heart behind the bell jar she had crafted over the years. "I know I was young. it's not just that. I...I left him when he needed me." her tone now morphing into a more frantic, desperate lilt. "like, who the hell does that? that's not just being young. I fucked it all and if I did that to you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. so, I know that you want me and I want you too, believe me I do. but what if something gets too much and I make the impulsive, stupid decision again and then....I don't deserve you."

this was really happening; the thought of divulging everything she kept locked in a box in her mind and had pushed into the darkest corners made her feel a little woozy. juniper sat down on the couch while gripping the wine glass with an iron-clad vice. "while I did grow up in westmorland, it wasn't just..." the words stopped like someone had just turned off the connection from brain to tongue. "ken's not my dad. well, he's my dad but like, not my biological father." it was always the easiest part when she had done this before (though those times were very few and far between). it was something she didn't mind other people knowing, in fact. many people just stopped asking questions after that point. there was an expectation that if you wanted to talk about a parent who had to have the biological tag in front of their title, then you'd bring it up. but it was the next part that made her feel like she was pushing herself over a verbal wall, waiting to freefall.

"my biological father was a cult leader. a small one but devastated lives all the same." the voice saying these words didn't even sound like hers, the disconnect so intense. "very traditional values. women were subserivent to men, all that shit. he got to my mom after she immigrated. she was practically a kid." her eyes stayed transfixed on her lap as she continued to speak, hoping the more she could separate from herself, the more she could divulge. "there's so much I don't remember but the stuff I do....I'd give anything to not. I have a lot of work to do, and I just feel like it'd be unfair to you drag you through that."

@victoriaxsanchez

Victoria could tell the other woman was having an internal battle with herself. It was only now she was starting to have doubts. Tori knew that this…it shouldn’t have been a hard decision for her if she felt the same way Tori did.

“So tell me,” her tone was firm. The anxiety of it all starting to bubble in the pit of her stomach.

It was a little shocking, because Victoria thought she knew everything. She didn’t exactly know what to expect or if it was going to change things too. Was their Valentine’s Day ruined? She couldn’t quite tell. She felt a bit stupid for thinking that this would all go smoothly now, maybe Robin was right all along. "I don't want to hear all of that, 'you can do better' crap, Juniper. I want you. Don't you want me too? It's simple, or it should be." She let out a heavy sigh. "You were also young when you were with him, you've grown, it's not gonna be the same as it was." That was just common sense. Victoria had grown too after ghosting Rina for New York.

"Let's sit. You can tell me everything." @juniper-soo

[thatkoiboi]

//WARNING: meltdown, dissociation, spiraling//

I'm proud of you and all your accomplishments! Everything will be okay <3

[vixensofdeath]

every day it gets harder to live. I get out of bed and don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I want or need. I simply do not exist.

[xvelvetcoffinx]

[aliciamaynardsworld2]

Dude, the fact that you smile so fucking bright after all that shit that you went through>>>>>

[gollldrush]

Leo swallows, leaning forward to press her hand on the shin of his shaking leg. She scratches up and down and makes sure to steady her breathing – keep her facial expressions neutral. 

“Hey, hey-“ A quick squeeze to their calf. “If it’s too much you don’t have to tell me.” 

The internal struggle was written all over their face. The way Arthur held themselves, the shame they carried. She scoots closer, listening. Close enough that if he decided to lean on her, he could. Her hand finds his and she twines their fingers together; silent, doing her best to be supportive.

A small laugh is given to her dramatic response to him being ready to eat. He had tried to be quick, but waking up was not exactly Arthur's strong suit. "Yeah, all right, I can handle that." He slipped on his shoes and snagged a pack of cigarettes before heading out behind Leo.

The drive was quiet, though Arthur did have a smoke while they went mostly to try and wake his brain up a little bit. It was a bit of a drive to find somewhere to get take out, but eventually they settled on something that served breakfast and lunch at this hour.

Once they were settled in the bed of the truck, Arthur took the chance to dig into his sandwich, though was surprised to find that Leo didn't immediately jump to eating. A sip of coffee, setting down the sandwich on the paper bag and grabbing a napkin. He nearly chokes on the coffee, though, when her question comes up mid-sip.

Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat, setting the styrofoam travel cup down and trying not to wince at the burnt feeling left on his tongue. A long pause, gathering his thoughts and opting to look away from Leo. His leg bounced anxiously at his side.

"Uhhh... My family?" He had wished she had just asked about his family, not what happened. Suddenly, his stomach was tied in a knot, sandwich left behind on the floor of the truck bed. "I was a teenager," they admitted quietly. They scratched absently at their forearm, avoiding Leo's gaze.

"14. I think..." Their tongue pressed against the inside of their cheek, looking up finally. Eyes squinted against the sunlight, brows furrowed in thought. Remembering was hard. He had done so well to push that nightmare to the back of his mind. Back where it only appeared in his worst nightmares.

"I...remember my older sister yelling at me. Shoving me. We were fighting over..." A light clearing of his throat, blinking. A flash of his sister's face. The anger. "I don't know...Sibling shit, I guess..." He was staring at the ground again, hands folded, arms resting against his knees, pulled up to his chest.

"I remember...My brother. Trying to stop me. Covering my mouth." Tension pulsed through their muscles. Another flash of a memory. The vision of his brother's hands on his shoulders. Teeth tearing into his fleshy palm.

"Blood. There was- there was blood. And then...it was like...like I couldn't stop myself." Silence. The words were caught in the back of his throat. "I ripped a chunk of his flesh off..." The screams echoed in his head and he closed his eyes again, hiding his face behind his hands. A sniffle. "And once I'd had that first bite, I--" They shook their head slowly. "Well, I just knew..." A long silence, trying to collect himself, but even his next words came out in a whimper. "I knew I couldn't stop it." He let out a heavy-weighted exhale, a single tear falling down his cheek. "My dad pinned me down then and I...Well, I was like a feral animal in a cage. I shoved him down the goddamned stairs..."

[burningsolarsystem]

Still constantly seem to be going back and forth between accepting I am a system and accusing myself of faking.

Recent interaction:

"Honestly, I doubt I even am actually a system. I'm probably just faking."

"We are really back on this bullshit again, huh?"

"Yes, we are."

"..."

"..."

"Anyways..."

(Even funnier cause I can feel her staring at me during those silences. I don't have to see her at all to be able to sense her glaring at me. )

[[[Not funny you bitch. It's annoying. I get it, but like damn you're insistent. So get glared at you stubborn bitch]]]

(Yeah...not editing that part out cuz fair.)

[godofautism]

Various blinkies and stamps I found (Part 4!)

First part: here

[incaensio]

her eyebrows furrow at the manner effie comes back to them and, for the first and possibly last time ever, katniss sees herself in her escort. she knows the look: the shell-shocked gaze, when your mind is elsewhere entirely and can barely be brought back. katniss' mind is always far away, so she has some practice returning to her own body, even if unwillingly, but effie who is always on the now, on the it's going to be a big big big day!, simply does not seem to be someone who has foul memories enough to feel trapped in them. what harm could have ever happened to her? for all katniss knows, she had eaten the car backfiring excuse during eleven and slept soundly through all of their troubles. but it's different, when you actually see a dead body, even if it's one brought up from "natural causes" (porter's official cause of death, not that katniss is innocent enough to buy it).

as effie snaps back and confirms her resentment towards katniss' lack of punctuality, however, the victor tenses, straightening her back in an impulse, practice of being scolded for slouching during those annoying five or six months until the wedding. "i'm sorry." she repeats, for good measure, once more without meaning. there are more important things than to adhere to time constricts, katniss means to say, but opts to bite her tongue; the week has been stressful as it is, for all involved, even effie trinket, who must have thought this year was going to be a breeze. "i thought you had it." the room, the prep meeting with chandler, she means. it's no excuse, but it also points out that katniss has realized that no, effie did not have it, and that something is off.

but before she can find words to probe further, effie is the one pressing on a wound, and katniss squints. "word of what gets around? my lateness ain't losin’ us sponsors. last i heard, they like my fire." her petulance, her disregard for what's proper, her rebellion, her sincerity — it had gotten her an eleven, the spotlight, the love of the capitol and beyond; katniss has no intention on bragging about that, not when it all makes her impossibly uncomfortable, but how small such a thing as being late feels in the grand scheme of things. it had to come from someone like effie trinket.

everything feels so quiet. she can't understand why or what it is, but it's like her ears are ringing all the time, muffled, as if she just left a loud environment in favor of a silent one -- which she never does. it's a thought that reminds effie of her parents' home, with her father's solemn ticking clock and her mother's impatient sighs. the eerie sobriety of a home that never welcomed any warmth. even for capitol citizens, they were dull; their curtains and their walls were a dark royal blue. to this day, effie keeps dark blue out of her looks.

she can fake it most of the time, that's what she's always been paid to do. the tug of her lips were a well-practiced mask that hardly ever faltered and hardly anyone could see through. no one ever looked closed enough to see the cracks, and she'd managed to patch them all up pretty quickly, anyway. but now, it feels harder. she feels herself -- regrettably, she thinks -- dull. it's about the worst thing effie trinket can be, but she can't pull herself out of it. like a cloud that hangs around her neck like the tragic version of a feathery boa, there is something clinging to her that she cannot shake. it's the body of porter burned into her eyelids, there every time she blinks. it's lifeless eyes and a limp hand on hers. it's the sound of her own horrified shriek that keeps replaying on the back of her mind.

she's pulled from her thoughts when a familiar voice calls and, uncharacteristically, she flinches as she looks up. effie re-situates herself. there's a plate of half-eaten food in front of her, as her hand mechanically makes the fork push around some potatoes. katniss hardly ever addresses her directly like this, certainly rarely ever calls her by name at all, effie notices it now. the question makes her sigh. "i'm not," she declares curtly. it's the truth, but it feels wrong to admit to it out loud. like she's baring too much of her chest open, a misstep on her usually so calculated dance. she backtracks, clears her throat, and gives the girl a dramatic roll of her eyes. "i mean, of course i am." the lie feels better on her tongue than the truth did. she should be mad. she wants to be mad.

but being mad feels fruitless, ridiculous even, at the face of everything else. she can see hazelle's name being reaped has affected them, she knows that gale boy -- however much she dislikes him -- is suffering and katniss, too. and porter is dead. someone who had just exchanged pleasantries with effie earlier that night. being mad about katniss being late feels like being angry at the sun for shining on, now. it's useless. but the mask stays on, and it fits more comfortably than her real skin, these days, so she puts on the act they all want from her. "i know you lot are worried, i understand that, but being on time is extremely important." a manicured hand fixes one of the pins holding her wig (purple, today) together. "word gets around and it sends a wrong message to sponsors, katniss. and we need them. for hazelle, too."

[thenightsystem]

sometimes self care is turning on youtube to pretend like youre doing something, then disassociating for an hour

-host

[vixensofdeath]

my life has just been a series of waiting to feel better and never being able to because someone or something happening. I’m tired of going two steps back every time I step forward. I just wish there were something out there for me, and if there is, I wish it’d come faster.

[the-demons-son]

Damian flinched, looking to Timothy with rounded eyes as though seeing him for the first time. He swallowed, bile rising up in his throat.

"No. Do not touch me. I -"

How could he? How had they welcomed him in? They must not have known. And it would be a matter of time before they found out. And once they did he would have to leave there too. It was no different. The stray assassin was right. He didn't belong here.

"No. I can't go home."

Open starter.

"I'm a murderer."

Damian spoke quietly, his gaze unfocused. He curled his fingers, palms facing up as though worried he might taint whatever he touched next.

[sprinkleofquirk]

Rather than explain that I cannot have Asperger’s syndrome because that hasn’t been included in the DSM since 2013 since Hans Asperger was, among other things, a fucking Nazi, I used my ✨healthy coping mechanisms✨ (kinda) and made these 🙃

And I say ‘kinda’ because I don’t… exactly… remember? Making them? They just kinda… ✨appeared✨ and a few hours had passed