#mild dissociation

[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

[beefcliff]

a little comic about gender, the forever road.

send me an ask.

[ghost-of-a-system]

our confusing tangle of gender and OSDD-1b

i don't know if this needs to be said, but this is absolutely not meant to be read as a "trans experience" and is almost entirely a "system experience". saying because i know there's a lot of cis "detransitioners" who try to insert themselves into the trans community regardless. people like that suck and we absolutely are not trying to do that, i assure you!

[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)

[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¥.

[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

[wildwood-faun]

got soooo many things happening in the coming few weeks and it's p much all things I've been looking forward to but because it's so much in such a short time it's making me feel kind of unsettled and sad

[withoutalice]

A sneak peak at 'never vulnerable and never stressed'

TW: for unplanned pregnancy, implied trauma, disassociation, non-graphic medical procedures

...Fortress pulled himself back to reality.

“What’d Ratchet say?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. He told me to fix the scanner.”

“Ah, alright.” Fortress sighed in relief. A glitch, he wasn’t dying or contaminated.

First Aid’s spark thrummed in his chest as he shakily undid the cable connection, watching the scanner’s screen blink black. After 30 seconds, he plugged the scanner back in.

“It’ll take a minute for the scanner to boot up, so could I ask you some other questions?”

“Of course Aid…”

First Aid smiled in an attempt to calm Maximus.

“Have you felt ill recently?”

“...Yeah. Just a little unusual. It’s on and off you know?” The small medic wrote quickly.

“And have you purged any food?” Fortress sighed.

“Yeah I have....n-not because I had too much at Swerve’s! I don’t do that much.” The pen clicked off and First set the clipboard on a sanitation cart.

“Alright Max, we’re done with those questions. Sorry about that!” First Aid laughed awkwardly.

“No…it’s your job. I’m not, uh, uncomfortable.” Maximus waved his servo as if to break up the tangled anxious EM field he and Aid were putting out.  First Aid nodded.

“Okay, put your servos above your head again for me?”

Fort Max did as he was told; First Aid gripped the scanner firmly, trying to hide his nervousness as he moved it over Fortress’ body from pede to helm.

Huh, it’s gon-

The medic froze as the scanner made the rapid angry beeping noise for the second time. Fortress flinched.

Ratchet threw back the curtain and First Aid put his servos up, the scanner buzzing and chirping in his servo still. Ratchet grabbed it out of First Aid’s servo and rescanned the patient.

Fortress’ eyes glazed over, and he watched the CMO scan him from the eyes in the walls...

---------

First Aid’s optics leaked before Ratchet even started talking.

“How long has it been since…since we got him out of Garrus 9?” The CMO whispered in a hiss. 

“It's been…it’s been a decacycle or so? Is it true?” The other medic responded shrilly.

Ratchet looked down.

“Yes he’s-”

-but he couldn't speak.

...

[bunnihearted]

me whenever a therapist/psychiatrist speaks

[iowaisms]

Jol and I have both been heavily dissociative for a few days now, but not in the "blurring" way. We can very clearly feel the lines between each other. Instead we're dissociating in the "nothing feels real" way. Yippie!