#mild dissociation

[the-weeping-dawn]

Todays vibe: whatever the fuck the vibe is in this scene

[ghosts-and-glory]

This page fought me every step of the way.

I’m trying to get the pacing back under control cause starting on page 6 instead of 1 messed up the way pages lead into eachother. I spent like an hour shuffling the panels around trying to get a nice layout going and had other people helping me. Don’t even talk to me about colouring. And I had to redraw like 50% of the panels cause I’d initially drawn this out like two months ago.

Narinder is built like a bag of bones, does not take much to send him across a room.

First // Previous // Next

[chamerionwrites]

Sometimes you experience things and your only two options are to live the rest of your life in dissociation and denial, or to fundamentally alter your worldview based upon the facts of reality you’ve been confronted with. Funny enough it’s typically the latter that makes people treat you like you’re crazy

[sysmedsaresexist]

Kim Nobel, the artist with DID

I highly recommend everyone give this video a watch! Kim Nobel is an incredible artist, and her story gets me every time.

[beefcliff]

a little comic about gender, the forever road.

send me an ask.

[unhappy-house-of-horrors]

Systems, I love you, you didn’t ask for any of this, you didn’t choose for this to happen, you are trying your best.

[asurrogateblog]

The Syd Poll

the topic of this poll is one that is frequently avoided in the pink floyd fandom, but inevitably one we all consider – our individual views on what we think caused syd's psychological struggles (and by extension, led to his departure from the band). I think that – at least in this neighborhood of tumblr – this is a conversation we are capable of having in a way that is civil, nuanced, and at least minimally disrespectful to syd.

So, to help facilitate this, here are some ground rules:

let's all assume we have a mutual understanding of the complexities of this. syd could never actually be reduced down to a poll, and all of our viewpoints are limited in various ways

the poll options just serve as just a conversation starter, and responses are not necessarily a statement of absolute beliefs

feel free to discuss as much or as little of your own perspective as you feel comfortable sharing.

in the case that debates break out, please try to assume good intent – and also demonstrate it (unless, for instance, someone is being blatantly insulting beyond a misunderstanding that needs correcting)

please do NOT vote if you are not actually a pink floyd fan with at least basic knowledge about what we're talking about here.

The options I've included below are not meant to be exhaustive, they are simply the "theories" that I have seen most commonly circulated. I have also decided not to include combinations. I'm fairly sure we'd all agree multiple factors were involved. Rather than make the poll too complicated, I ask you to instead select the one that you think is the "most" important to your viewpoint, and clarify further in your tags/comments as you wish.

so. here we go.

READ BEFORE VOTING ^^^^

(note of correction: "late-onset schizophrenia" should just be "schizophrenia". the typical timeline for onset of symptoms is late adolescence/early adulthood, so syd would've been well within that period at the time)

[blackoutsys]

so afaik the way switching feels to every system can widely vary but like.

does anyone else get a small intense bout of like. vertigo? where it feels live everything spins for a moment?

[the-insouciant-scientist]

Okay I'm very curious now about people's fallen london ocs and memory loss/amnesia because there are more characters with gaps in their past than I initially expected to see, so! Answer for your main oc, probably, unless you have an alt you'd prefer to answer for.

Also, feel free to specify in the tags the cause if you know it! Whether it be dissociative, irrigo-based, etc, I'd love to hear about it. :-)

[chicago-geniza]

Wait. Guys. Was "Fido" the archetypal pet dog name during the 19th and early 20th century because of fucking. Latin. Your dog is your loyal and trusted companion. Sorry I saw a postcard from that period with a cute caption referring to the lady's lapdog as "Fido" and am just out of it enough on Benadryl to Realize

[beelzebubsbois]

Alrighty, did that system drawing challenge

(Original by @lemonsystemmm I believe, ours is below the cut. We did change the last one because we didn't feel like drawing the body or Hart. So :)))

Only ones drawn by the same person were the left most 2. Both drawn by Allistor (bottom left is a drawing of Al by Al, top left is Aiden also drawn mostly by Allistor). Top right is Harper, bottom right is Barnaby, bottom middle is V4N!T¥.

[defire]

Ghost of Seattle Chapter 22

Content: mild gore, dissociation, memories of child abuse, autistic whumpee, injury, ptsd, religious fears, suicidal ideation

The hideout was a treehouse, and he only had one usable arm. Leaning forward, he hooked his right arm into a mess of crab-apple-tree branches. This place had a lot of food, undesirable, but wild. Even the weeds. Ghost knew because he'd tried some. More things were edible than people seemed to think.

He hooked his legs, unhooked his arm, and climbed up like that. The rotting walls were still strong enough for his hands. His foot slipped and his leg shot out; he gasped. His hand slapped down on the scrap-board stuff, fingers lodged in a crevice between them. 

Scared, he looked down where he almost fell. A wilderness of tall weeds in flower and death, with those creepy bits of kids' toys peeking out between them, like a trap.

It was very dark now. In passing a bombed farmer's market, he'd kicked a bone finger by accident. A rather tiny one. A young girl was rotted and dried on the pavement. Just a pile of clothes, dry fallen skin on the skeleton, which had been blasted in pieces. Nearby, he'd found what he was looking for--a cracked mirror, among a few other blasted bits of gluey makeup containers.

The crescent moon had come out from the clouds now, and it shone through the two-foot-square window in the treehouse. He knelt on the knotted cotton rug, unusually intact despite some bugs, and allowed the moon to shine onto his face.

It was bluish and his frown overshadowed his eyes. He lifted his chin and raised his eyebrows to see. The pink skin around his eyes was more grayish in the moonlight. As always, the first thing that he noticed on his skin was the long scar down his chin and neck. His dad gave him that, with his first pocket knife. He said he was teaching Chase how to use it. He still wondered if that was really the only reason.

His black pupils pierced back at him. He looked more... innocent--than he felt. But the eyes were the eyes of a shade. On a closer look, he could see the vague outline of his iris--pale blue-gray, they were almost white. 

He folded closed the cracked hand mirror, sitting back on the rug. Eyes of a shade... Well, he'd wanted to disappear. Maybe it was a good thing.

His fractured forearm ached at him. The pain was exhausting. He had kept on stooping over it,  groaning when the pain got too much. That had made him tired too. 

Instincts told him to do something scary. He slipped his arm back into the loose sling he'd been hiding under his black goat. He took the coat off and left it on the rug. He stepped out of the black boots he'd been given and, clinging by the door frame to the treehouse, he stepped out onto the corner of the frame. The frame the treehouse was built on. With a little heart-skip, he let go the door frame, then before he could fall, he slipped his hand around the tree and tugged himself against it. He impacted gently chest-first.

This was enough right now. His toes curled over the edge of the treated boards.

Whoever made the moon had to be a nice god. 

Maybe he could find food in the gardens out here, next morning.

"Shades will follow you back and live in your dreams. Never look at a shade."

There was food. Late harvest stuff, hidden half-under rotting fences. It tasted so good he almost cried.

He gathered up some more supplies that week. If he could stay hidden, maybe he could not-die for a little longer. How much longer? Maybe there was some codex for appeasing God, that he could find. The Cult couldn't be right; they were self-satisfied. And they were terrible people, just as bad as Yellowcaps. Maybe worse. God would hate them, and if they didn't know that, then they knew nothing.

Once he could make sure he wasn't going to hell, he could kill himself. 

He faded out of reality in that week. It was a sorrowful relief to float around the city, unseen.

Even though he saw others at times, he stayed hidden. He caught rumors of "the Ghost" as he snuck around the Night Market, which happened more quietly now. 

They said that the Ghost appeared, struck, and glided into the dark like some cursed demon creature. A curse of the betrayal, arisen from the shades of those who were killed that night. A curse on the Night Market. 

White, red-eyed, with tiny pupils in yawning open whites; pure hate.

They went on to gossip about shades in general, a new water supply, and the Guards' weakening focus. That was the only interesting part.

It seemed to him like Bloody Connor had some serious expertise in starting rumors. If she was gonna be supplying water, it would make sense to start rumors before making offers, to seem strong. They were a pretty vulnerable group.

And no one saw him, he was pretty sure. He stole a few things, listened for awhile, and got out. After a long time of this silent existence, he was becoming unreal.

It was the third time he touched on Shiver territory, trying to find a gun, that they saw him.

[also guys are you interested in the story of the knife incident with Merc?]

Tag list: @joyjoygorl @cepheusgalaxy

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Kindle book: Masterpost: Next:

[voided-selfships]

In other news. Handsome Jack save me. Save me Handsome Jack

[destiny-in-the-universe]

something rots inside you (it's buzzing, tearing you apart) [DannyMay 2024: Insect]

Things had started out as normal. 

For Danny Fenton, ghost fights were common - of course, he couldn’t go a day without having to deal with the latest attempt to take over the city, or as it would seem: the world. It was irksome at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore a plea for help. He was quite used to this by now - though even then, he rushed out the first chance he could and was taking on the ghost with ease, firing an ectoplasmic blast at his target. 

Dodging an incoming swing, Danny grinned - eyes gleaming ever so slightly as he crowed with laughter. 

“You’ve got to do better than that!” He taunted. His hands thrust forward and with a single firing shot, he was hurdling an ice beam toward the latest baddy.

Even then, it still did not prepare him for the sudden blast of energy directed at the creature - startling for half a second as he heard its screeches, and Danny’s eyes went wide like saucers when he finally noticed a familiar vehicle parked off to one side.

Oh, you had to be kidding. 

Danny could only watch in almost morbid fascination as his opponent was sucked into a container, vanishing from sight in a matter of seconds. No matter how much the ghost’s capture dug under his skin - he needed to get out, make his way back home before the Guys in White managed to catch up to him. Or worse. 

He visibly shuddered for half a second before turning tail back to FentonWorks, or so he thought. 

Barely being given the chance to react, Danny let out a confused and panicked yelp when the vibrant green net knocked him back to the ground - his hands pushing up against it. He just needed to turn invisible, letting his own intangibility take hold but somehow, that didn’t happen. Fear gripped his core, the subtle hum only he could sense giving way into a low krr-krr as danger was rapidly approaching. 

“Gotcha, ghost scum,” one of the agents spoke, apparently unbothered by the way Phantom tried to push at the mesh netting. “Now, we can do this the easy way,” he continued, only to narrow his eyes as the captive wouldn’t stop moving, “or the hard way.”

“Wait, stop- you have to let me go! I’m not- this is a big misunderstanding!”

Phantom’s fake attempts to startle him were frankly beginning to get annoying, which led to pulling out what looked to be a rectangular object with two rods at either end. The agent scoffed before jabbing it forward, sending bolts of raw electricity into the supposed hero’s side. 

It screeched, howling in pain as its body spasmed - Phantom whimpering as the jolts barely left him able to do anything. Its powers were null, unable to be used in the current state but that was honestly none of the agent’s concern as he hauled the caught ghost into the back of the van. 

“No, no no,” Phantom hissed, eyes beginning to glow an even brighter, translucent green under the dimly-lit space, “let me out of here!” 

His screams went unanswered as the door slammed shut, leaving Danny pressed against the cool floor of the van - his own heart thundering loudly and a quiet noise of panic escaped him. No matter how much he tugged and attempted to do anything that would ensure escaping the net, it didn’t work. He refused to let himself cry, not even when he flinched at the sound of the van continuing to bustle and jostle beneath him. 

This was not a pleasant experience. 

Surely, someone had to notice when he went missing- something that would allow him the way of getting back home, but of course the universe seemed against Danny today. As the van suddenly pulled to a stop, he braced himself for the inevitable; he remained tense, though seeing the agent made him snarl - trying to keep as much distance as he could. When the net was hauled up, he thrashed and kicked, deciding he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“You’re making a mistake!” He shouted, but nothing - they still brought him inside, and as soon as he was let out of the net, Phantom suddenly shot at the agent who cursed inwardly. “Get back, stay away from me!”

“You little-” the agent whipped out a stun blaster, having to be quick before their current prize could manage to get away. He grunted as an ectoplasmic blast barely managed to avoid hitting him, only to fire back on the ghost.

There, he watched as Phantom gasped - writhing in discomfort on the ground, barely being able to move while the agent flipped him over on his stomach. 

“Do-Don’-”

The cuffs were clasped against its wrists, suppressing the scum’s powers and Phantom gasped - body spasming in apparent discomfort as its abilities were forced under dormancy - being hauled to its feet. The struggles did nothing to help, but soon enough - it was being forced inside a sterile white room, equipped with what looked like medical devices and the metal table at the center of the room. 

Phantom startled again, almost looking horrified as it bared what appeared to be small fangs. 

“Are you insane? Let me go!” It shouted, but it was all just lies - the ghost still putting up a fight before it was knocked onto the table; new cuffs being latched onto its wrists and ankles, not to mention one around the waist. Phantom’s breath was quickly growing shallow, a false imitation of a panic attack from when it was alive (it likely hadn’t been), its powers still kept locked in order to prevent the scum from fighting back. 

This could not be happening. 

Danny’s heart continued to race, his mind switching into overdrive as he saw the scientists - clad in white coats, like something straight out of a movie - talking to each other; one walked up to him, saying some weird nonsense about how ‘Phantom’ would be the perfect specimen worth studying. He shot them a glare but he refused to speak - straining, pulling against the restraints as he spoke, “you- you don’t want to do this!”

Unfortunately for him, he let out a sudden shout as what was very clearly a scalpel pressed to his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes and let out a yelp as the incision was made, pushing into the skin - scientists watching in what was a clear morbid fascination with the blood spilling, or well - greenish-red blood. Ectoplasma had changed him, in ways he wished he didn’t right now; Danny groaned but his mind shut down after that, unable to process what was happening to him. 

Faintly remembering when they strapped a mask on his face, Danny was lulled into a sense of comfort - only to wake up with the knowledge his body wasn’t responding how it should, and he groaned, straining his eyes against the bright light of the- 

Where was he? What happened to him? 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice called, sounding so sickly-sweet and leaving Danny’s skin crawling, “I was worried you’d wake up before we finished the procedure!”

Procedure? 

He tried to speak, but his throat didn’t seem to be working properly- Danny whimpered as the scientist approached him with a widened smile, making him feel small and inferior. He couldn’t feel his fingers, nothing to prove he could move. 

“Ngh,” he whined, efforts useless as he was pulled under again - mind growing foggier as if a blanket of cloud was being draped over his eyes. “L’mgo.” 

His voice wasn’t working right, but before he could make out anything, Danny saw the corners of his vision growing blacker by the second. And just like that, everything was snuffed out - he could feel something thrumming, the faint noise only growing more refined as he slightly registered the experiments being done on him. 

How long had he been missing? Would anyone come looking? 

Until one day, everything changed. 

His core’s thrums had only gotten steadily louder, ringing in his ears; Danny’s body jerked in discomfort, protesting for a second before something snapped in him- like it was contorting his bones, a hollowed scream escaping him. His fingers clawed against the metal flooring of the containment cell he had been moved to, the scraping getting worse as tears welled in his eyes. 

What was happening to him? 

He shrieked, a low buzzing sound becoming heavier by the second as his back suddenly arched upward and a wail left his lips - not exactly ghostly but certainly nowhere close to being human. Something buzzed again, and Danny was aware of approaching footsteps, running trying to cage him. He couldn’t- he wouldn’t let them hurt him. 

Not again. 

In front of him, someone startled at the thing inside the cage- beady yellow-green eyes tracking their every move before all hell broke loose. Wings buzzed as the creature blasted ectoplasma against the cell - melting it from the inside, and then - then the lights went out. Screams rang out as the insectoid ghost, or whatever it was, splattered blood; it left a mess in its wake, blood and bone and other fluids coating the floor, and then it was gone. 

It basked in its newfound freedom. 

It couldn’t stop it couldn’t, not until it was free. 

Danny Fenton died that night. 

From the forest, something watched - buzzing, but whatever it was… it was never seen again. 

[just-rainbow-thoughts]

Love this beast, the artificial cucumber

[insipid-drivel]

I got copper heavy metal poisoning for the holidays

I thought it was the flu but noooope, Alter-Personality Alex figured out it was my copper water bottle and chucked it out for me once I'd passed out

Be careful about where you source copper-lined water bottles from, kids