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galaxygermdraws · 2 years

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Did wormman have any side effects post getting possessed cuz i cant imagine getting possessed by death would be good for anyone

Oh yea he's changed a lot since getting possessed. Appearance wise, obviously, he looks different. The darker hair, the faded wool, the dark eyes. Also his horn is re-broken, as he and Abyss had glued it back together at one point.

Other side effects include that when he gets angry, which is much easier now than it was before, his eyes go pitch black. Also his voice echoes a bit if he yells. It sounds like you could vaguely hear Zedeath's voice under it. Every time it happens he gets more used to it which. He doesn't like but. It was inevitable he would grow used to it

Another side effect is the fact Wormman became incredibly, incredibly withdrawn. He doesn't talk a lot after a good while of being stuck with Zedeath(he's in a situation I would compare to the Sock Opera situation from GF. The whole "ghost who's body was hijacked by a powerful demon-like entity). At first he was very. Outwardly loud and trying to seem like he would stop Zedeath, but eventually Zedeath threatened to just kill him. And when Zedeath kills someone, he bottles their soul, but Wormman's "soul" is...isn't his. It's Zed's. And the longer someone is bottled, the less they are. Themselves. Their memories and personality just. Slowly fade away til they're malleable. But in Wormman's case? He would end up just...reverting to Zed. Just another part of him. Because of this, Wormman stopped talking as much. Eventually he just went dead silent, became boring for Zedeath, and when the time was convenient, got abandoned.

After that, Wormman was still super quiet, only speaking up when he finds out Cas knew Abyss. So, like, he was quiet for a while. Also he uh. Has really bad intrusive thoughts. Being around someone like Zedeath for as long as Wormman was has lead to Wormman becoming numb to....all the awful stuff Zedeath would say and do. And sometimes Wormman will want to do similar things to someone. Heck, he wants to hurt Zedeath specifically. Hurt him s o badly. But the moment he has these thoughts he freaks out because he can't be having those thoughts. He's supposed to e good...he's supposed to be a superhero...but...he really isn't anymore....

Is he?

#germtalks #germ talks #wormman #zedeath #germ's hermits #germ's helsmits #tw death mention #tw death #tw possession #tw amnesia mention #ask to tag #not art

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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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Respawn and Relive

@thenightwolf51 who tagged me in this months ago, but I didn't know enough about Respawn to write something. I didn't forget! I just still haven't found much on him, so sorry if I get his character wrong.

They don't give him a name.

It's one of the first things he notices they do to dehumanize him. It's not like they see clones as humans- he's just a science experiment meant to keep the legacy of the League of Assassins alive, even at the cost of his life.

He is just there to be trained to follow commands, and if needed, he is spare parts for the Real Son. He is made from part of the same DNA as the Real Son, but that hardly matters to what should be his mother, as she does not feel anything for his biological father and thus feels nothing for the being created from the two DNAs.

He is the clone created by Slade Wilson- alias Deathstroke- and Talia al Ghul. She may not had a hand in his creation, as that was done by her father, but she had no issues using him.

Torment him. Rip him apart and put it back together just to see what happens.

She looks at him with the same gaze she would a sword. Valuating his worth by how well he can do in training, how healthy his organs are, and how he should be nothing but a loyal dog.

But he isn't. Not really.

If this was all he knew, maybe he would be the weapon they wanted, but he knows more. Remembers more. Yes, he doesn't have all his memories, but he has flashes- glimpses- of the life he had before the Leauge.

They would disapprove of the memories, which makes them all the more precious.

He can still clearly remember his mother- his real mother- a brilliant mind, his father's warm, solid hugs, and his sister's gentle eyes. He can recall his home's layout even if he can not remember the street or how far it was from his school. He can identify his two best friends' faces even if their names slip through his fingers like falling sand.

He also remembers his first name and the initials of his last.

Danny F.

He thinks he died before, waking up as the clone. He remembers standing inside a metallic cave- or a large hole in a machine?- and being electrocuted. He remembers the screams, the flashes of light, the pain, and even a glimpse of his best friends' horrified faces but not much else.

The next clear memory is looking in a mirror to see white hair and green eyes. The same combination he now sports as the Leguage's weapon and spare organ farm.

The memories after that are filled with harsh training, even more, brutal torture, and the reintegration that should his half-brother ever need them, he would give up his organs for the Real Son.

He is, after all, Damian Wayne's gift. He was created to harvest his super healing for the boy's body parts. Danny thinks he hates him, but he's not sure he can remember what hate is supposed to feel like.

He does remember what love is supposed to feel like.

Sometimes, when all he can do is lay in his cell, body aching as they test his healing factor beyond its limits- they cut off his left arm once, just to watch the tissue slowly regrow- he lets himself drown in his old memories, in the few dream-like sequences.

Some make sense, others don't. For some, he's a black-haired blue-eyed boy, and for others, he has white hair and green eyes.

Danny is sitting in class, eagerly taking notes on a topic he has been having trouble with-

-He's playing fetch with a small green dog, throwing snowballs into the air, flying after the excited creature-

-Danny is playing video games with a goth girl and a nerdy boy, laughing so hard he can't see the buttons on the control correctly-

-He's flaying alongside his sister, aiming his outstretched arm at a figure in the sky, shooting a green ray at the same time she does down below in her mechanical armor-

-Danny is helping his mother mix the dough for the cookies. He is swaying his hips to the song she has on the speaker. She's in her teal jumpsuit, having come up from the lab to do mother/son cookies as they do every Thanksgiving-

-He's testing the latest blaster with his father. They wanted to see if the auto-aiming feature was interfering with his flying. He flickers the white bangs out of his eyes as his father cheers from the roof while he takes aim-

Yes, Danny knows what love is supposed to feel like, even if he can't remember all the details, even if his full name evades him. He will escape the Leauage of Assiagins and find that feeling again.

Maybe he'll track down his biological father. Deathstroke does not know a clone was created by him, so maybe he will be willing to take him in.

It takes months, but eventually, they tell him Damian Wayne needs a kidney. Why? They don't say, but Talia knows her Beloved will donate his own, and she won't stand for it. She orders him to fulfill his duty as guards drag him to the operation table.

He grits his teeth as they strap him down and prep for surgery. Thankfully, they don't apply any anesthetics- they don't deem him worthy of a painless operation- so he has a clear head for escape.

The surgery has a thirty-window opening with no guards around. He waits until they are about to begin when he taps into the powers his memories tell him. He makes his limbs intangible, slipping through the restraints with great effort.

The medics only have a few seconds to be shocked before he is upon them. They lay in a pool of blood- not dead. His chest flares up in pain if he kills, so he tries to avoid it as much as his environment allows- as he flies through the walls. He has been planning here, so he knows what to do. Turning invisible, he passes under a helicopter scheduled for a month supply run.

By doing so, he does not appear on any radars using the large cargo as camouflage. Danny drops into the ocean as the alarms go off on that wrenched island, allowing his whole body to turn tangible. This way, the water does not slow him down as he flies deeper and deeper down, praying that they won't be able to track him the further he goes. When he gets to the part where everything is too dark to see- he picks a direction from where he came and hits top speed.

Traveling three hundred miles an hour, Danny escapes the League of Assians with all his organs intact, so take that Damian Wayne.

He has no real destination in mind but maybe, he can find the little town of his memories or maybe he'll find Deathstroke.

Maybe he will discover what the F. in his name stands for.

For now, he'll work under the name Respawn because that's a name he picked out for himself, and he'll do what he wants. He's no one's tool any longer.

(Miles away Tim Drake squints at the small dot darting from Nanda Parbat on his spying map. He's not sure what kind of misle Ra's just shot, but it's traveling fast, and he feels like he needs to phone this in.

"Hey B, we may have an issue." )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Respawn and Relive #Danny wakes as Respawn #He's out in the world #Sort of resents Damian but it's not like his half brother knows about him #Yes he escape earlier because of his somewhat memories #Partial amnesia #TW: Mentions of torture

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whump-kia · 4 days

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amnesiac characters my beloved. sudden gaps in your memories. running through the moments before and after the blanks in your mind over and over and over and over as if it'll help you remember. the frustration setting in when you can't. the trigger of some slight shadow of memory and the headache surfacing as you pursue it; the tantalizing cat&mouse game of almost-there-almost-gone with your own past; the migraines, nosebleeds and little hitched breaths; the dam breaks and you are swept away in a waterfall of who you were.

#whump prompts #whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #amnesia whump #memory whump #amnesia #tw blood mention

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llumetesdellums · 2 years

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Waiting by the door.

Fear it's waiting for someone who might never come back.

I'll never get over the whole gang thinking Mk died on the pilot, I will never.

Of course, they don't trust Sun Wukong, why there's resentment, why Pigsy doubts him constantly.

Mk would have died on that volcanic ring, he would have just died, like that, in a second, just because the kid wanted to do the correct thing.

And that's his kid, that's his kid...

The kid in his twenties, who lives on top of his shop, who screams too much and stands too tall, who always wakes up too late, and tries too much, the kid that accepts his fruit as a sign of peace after an argument.

And he would be gone.

He would be gone.

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thelookoutsystem · 1 year

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Something needs to be said: Fakeclaiming is INCREDIBLY mentally damaging, and it's never acceptable. No matter HOW justified you feel doing it.

Especially regarding systems, if you don't 100% know with undeniable proof that a person is "faking" being a system, fakeclaiming them can harm them in ways you would never even think about. Most systems (diagnosed or not) deal with denial on a very regular basis. DID/OSDD is a covert disorder, literally designed to hide itself from the person who has it. The brain will attempt to "logic away" any of their symptoms and chalk it up to delusions, a wild imagination, faking for attention, etc. So when you target a system who likely is already struggling with these thoughts and say "yes, you ARE faking this disorder", you're validating an incredibly harmful train of thought they are already having.

If you think a person is faking a disorder, fakeclaiming them will only give them the attention they want. If you think they're wrong about the disorder they have, then that's not a valid excuse to harass or fakeclaim them. There is genuinely no good excuse to fakeclaim anybody, as it will encourage genuine fakers (which are VERY few and far between) and discourage actual systems from talking about their experiences and discovering themselves.

#anti fakeclaiming #tw fakeclaiming #did system #dissociative amnesia #dissociative identity disorder #osdd system #fakeclaiming mention #plurality

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circular-bircular · 5 months

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hi, have you ever read "normal dimensions of multiple personality without amnesia"? i really have no idea how to read these kinds of things but i'm super interested in them, and from my very lacking understanding of it, i thought it might be some validity for endogenic plurality? but again- i really don't understand these things so i'm probably misunderstanding. so! i was wondering if you had any thoughts on it, and perhaps could explain it in simpler terms for those of us who haven't learnt to read these things :)

Hello! Yes, I have unfortunately read that article. It is a fakeclaiming, ableist abomination, in my opinion.

A summary of my thoughts: The authors of the piece, in an attempt to "prove endogenic plurality," suggest that DID is fake, that those who have DID just "gave themselves" the trauma, and that the only pathologic part of DID is the amnesia those systems face. It uses the Fantasy Model (a version of the False Memory Model, wherein people just Fantasize their trauma) to fakeclaim a diagnosed system from a case study.

I wrote an entire debunk of the article over on my alternative blog.

I am disgusted by the researchers of this article, and I'm glad you sought out someone to explain a bit more. If you don't want to slog through that full link, I can give a bit more analysis below (rather than the liveblogging I need to do to get through articles such as that one, since I also struggle with dissecting medical literature!)

TW below for fakeclaiming of both systemhood and multiple types of trauma (sexual, physical, neglectful, etc)

The authors base their study on the idea that children experience shifting personality in adolescence, and argue that this is non-pathological. This is widely accepted! Someone shifting personality traits as they grow up is absolutely not the same as DID. The authors go on to argue that the amnesia criteria was added in the DSM-4, and go further to argue that so-labeled "high-functioning MPD systems" could actually be "totally normal people with multiple personalities with no amnesia."

(Note: "totally normal people" is a lovely touch of ableism, as if people with DID are not normal, and totally normal high-functioning systems without amnesia already have a label. OSDD.)

The methods of this study are so minimally described that I fear my 6th grade students produce better lab reports in their science classes. A survey made by the researchers wherein only one subjective personal response on their own criteria indicates dissociative identity disorder, because it 'totally correlates to the DES, trust us guys'. The sampling is even shorter and negligent to the point of feeling purposeful.

Part of the way through the article, they shift their hypothesis. In the start of the essay, they set out to prove that multiplicity without amnesia is a normal experience and that trauma is what causes amnesia. Here, they change the hypothesis to be a bit reversed; that multiplicity is normal, and in DID, amnesia is imposed upon an already functional multiple system. If your red flags have not raised yet for the fakeclaiming, they should be up now.

Especially because, yep, they go on to fakeclaim a case study, Frieda. This individual was diagnosed with DID. This article claims that most traumatized people do not dissociate (with no source for this claim, particularly because the claim is batshit), and that "fantasizers" like Frieda (you know, a woman with severe trauma) just... imagine their feelings to be fully fragmented parts!

It seems to be that they try to argue that these imagined parts are what every system experiences, and people get amnesia if they imagine they should (as seen by their accusations of Frieda's fantasizing).

BTW: Frieda was orphaned as a child, raised in orphanages where she was abused, neglected, and without proper food and shelter, and then molested by soldiers in the war she was living through. The article skips almost all of her traumatic childhood and suggests that, after being raped (while the original case study states "molested"), she gained amnesia for the event, which made her imaginary friend into a disorder.

So... yeah! There you have it folks: all systems are just made up, and DID/OSDD is caused when those systems (who are making it all up) actually experience something that causes amnesia!

#I hope this article burns!#:)#beauty and poison go hand in hand #normal dimensions of multiple personality without amnesia #fakeclaiming #tw sa mention #tw fakeclaiming #sa mention #syscourse #debunking

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lights-out-knives-out · 1 year

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Blackouts

+++++++++++++++++++++++

“HOW LONG!?!”

“Whumpee, please”

“HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE CARETAKER!?”

Caretaker sighed “a year”

“A YEAR!!” Whumpee snapped “You’ve kept me trapped here for a year!”

“Whumpee, listen..” Caretaker started

“NO! You listen! I had a family!” Whumpee gestures to the tv that was still playing the news. “I had a family that loved and cherished me! I had- I HAVE a boyfriend! Who’s spending every hour of his waking day trying to find me!! And for what?! Because you wanted to play house??!”

“I bet you even caused the accident, didn’t you?” Whumpee stomped up to Caretaker prodding them in the chest. “You planned this whole thing, so I would fall into your hands.”

“Did-Did you even love me?” Whumpee hiccuped, emotions finally catching up with them “Or was that just another lie to keep me as your little pet?” They snapped

Caretaker’s hands took a hold of their face, pulling them close “Of course I love you sweetheart, why would I lie about my love?”

Whumpee squirmed, trying to wretch themselves from Caretaker’s hold. “Because- you are a Sick! Manipulative! Bastard who’s lied about everything else! And if you truly loved me, YOU’D! LET! ME! GO!!”

Whumpee blindly punched upwards, there was a crack Caretaker roared in pain dropping Whumpee and staggering backwards.

Whumpee ran. Pushed passed Caretaker who had started to recover, Ran down the hallway to the front door. Caretaker never needed to lock the door, why would they when Whumpee always behaved?

“WHUMPEE!” Caretaker yelled as Whumpee escaped into the bitter winter night.

‘Almost there’, Whumpee thought as they ran down the icy path.

But then the world shifted, Whumpee slipped, fell, head cracking against the pavement.

Freedom escaped from their fingers, as Caretaker hauled their body back into the house, their prison.

@jazatronasmr

#whump community #whump #whump writing #whump writer #bad caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #intimate whumper #amnesia #tw mentioned kidnapping #Moss Covered whump #my writing #whump prompts #winter whump #pet whump #whumpblr

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byrdtrolls · 3 months

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Funeral for Hikaru Akarii

It’s a beautiful day for a funeral. The night is calm and quiet, the two moons shine shamelessly through a thin veneer of cloud. It’s common practice, when a troll is famous enough, to have two funerals, one for the quote unquote ‘industry’, fans, others, usually in a much larger building, and then a smaller, more personal wake for close friends and family. The industry funeral had been a few days ago, it had been shit weather then, trolls crowding into a venue to say their goodbyes in the pouring rain. But it’s been two days, and the rain is gone, and the earth is in bloom.

Tonight is clear, and pretty. And a good thing too, it being outdoors. A crowd of thirty or so close accolades is making conversation in the graveyard, giving well wishes. A key few are struggling to keep the somber tone of the event. Most importantly, Verula’s quadrants, the ones Gihyun had invited in the hopes of susing out her location. To the side of the fresh dug grave, a confused Hascha Demork is nursing a bottle of wine, squinting at the people around him.

“Okay” He says finally. “Who invited you?” The violetblood accuses, pointing at The Reverend Mother. Anyita is staring at the grave in a not quite dissimilar look of confusion and contemplation.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She says.

“Aren’t you the murder?” Hascha says.

“That’s why you won’t believe me.” She repeats.

“Spit it out”

“Gihyun” The Reverend says. “I got an email from Gihyun.”

He stares at her with squinted eyes for a long moment, and then looks back at the grave.

“Yeah,” He says. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe you.” He says, taking a drink straight from the bottle.

“Did she invite you as well?” The Reverend Mother asks.

“Well” Hascha looks away. “Yes.”

“Perhaps?” Says a tiny little troll, stepping out of the shadows. “Gihyun wanted to bury our grudges with her grief,” Eponin says.

“Ha Ha. Fat chance” Demork retorts. “She’s up to something. I just want to know what. I was so baffled by the invitation I actually showed up here.”

“Or maybe” Eponin says. “She had the same idea I had.”

“Which is what?” Gihyun says, finally making her way over and into the conversation, dressed in a plain black suit.

“Why are we here, Gihyun” Demork asks.

“Solidarity. I don’t know.” She curses. “Thought maybe you all could get your heads out of your asses long enough to show a little respect.” She accuses, and then glances at them. “Guess I was wrong.” The jadeblood says, taking a drag of her cigarette.

Eponin straightens up, glancing back at the crowd to see if the few of them are being listened to. There's only one young purpleblood and jade nearby. They then turn to the tight circle of ancestors, eyes flitting from Anyita, to Gihyun, to Haggis, and back to Hascha.

“Is he the only one who doesn’t know?” They say. Instantly, Gihyun and Anyita’s eye’s narrow, and glance towards Hascha, whom the rust had just gestured towards.

“Doesn’t know what?” Hascha blinks.

Eponin stares for a moment, and then chuckles, pushing up their glasses.

“It’s funny” They say. “To see you be the last up to speed, Hascha” They grin, and then the smile is replaced by something more somber, they glance at the trolls in their little circle.

“I know The Reverend knows.” They say, with a nod towards their old friend, “I know Gihyun knows” They say, and the jade narrows her eyes back at them.”I know Hikaru knew.” They conclude, gesturing at the grave.

“Verula Dentry is alive.” Eponin says.

Hascha nearly drops his bottle.

“Can’t we, all of her quadrants, agree that she was better off dead?” They say, with a gesture, straightening out their gray sweater vest“Won’t you help me kill her?” The rustblood proposes.

Gihyun watches contemplatively, thinking on it. “I’m not a quad.” She says.

“In law.” Eponin dismisses, upset she was more preoccupied with their word choice than the content of their request.

“I’m also not Verula’s quadrant.” Hascha says, raising his hand.

Eponin pinches the bridge of their nose. “Well maybe not officially but if we’re counting affairs, Hascha.”

“Wh- fjksd. Okay.” He says, holding up his hands. “I… never fucked the geneticist. That was a tabloid rumor.”

“Oh I’m sure you never did, and neither did Hikaru!” Eponin says sarcastically, once again gesturing at the grave. The rustblood fumbles in their pockets for a moment, pulling out a newspaper.

“Will you can it! There is concrete proof that you fucked Verula Dentry and everyone here has been seeing nothing but her face on television for the past sweep! She looks just like both of you!” They accuse, gesturing to Twitch Monark on the cover of it.

Hascha inhales, glancing away. “Okay. Add it to my list of sins. Whatever. In tiny print at the bottom of the list made the same mistake as everyone in this room. Shocker. I mean didn’t you too?” He decides, flipping Eponin’s accusation back at them. “What’s her name- Hanagi. Seems awfully apt for the sciences.”

Eponin, seeming supremely unhappy with the turn the conversation has taken, retorts,

“Me and Verula never had sex.”

“Sick, is she ours then?” Demork muses.

“You wish. I cannot believe I ever dated you.” the rust retorts. “You’d truly be so flippant right in front of Haggis!”

Haggis, upon hearing her name, looks up from her wheelchair. “I’m sorry. Who are you people?” She asks. “Whose funeral is this?”

Eponin sighs frustratedly, and then turns back to Hascha.”Still! What kind of man has a red affair with his moirails matesprit.” They say through gritted teeth, gesturing at Haggis again.

Hascha stares blankly for an age, before commenting.

“Gonna disrespect the time honored profession of being a Verula Dentry mistress over Hikaru Akarii’s fresh dug grave? Really Eponin?”

“You’re one to talk.” The rust says. “What is it, 10am and you came here clearly intoxicated with a bottle to boot? When did you become so shameless. This is a funeral.”

“Cheers.” Hascha says, lifting the thing. “It’s what Hikaru would have wanted. Also you’re the one suggesting we form a death squad to go hunt down your supposedly undead ex at funeralllllll Eponin.” Hascha says, trailing off as he points his finger at his ex.

Finally, Gihyun is sick enough of watching this trainwreck she pauses to speak. “I cannot stand literally all of you but I think Eponins onto something.”

The Reverend Mother pauses, before piping up. “I agree.” She says.

Gihyun fixes her with a death glare that would have killed birds.

“What? I’m not allowed to agree?” The nun retorts. “She cheated on me.”

“I would literally rather eat glass than work with you bitch” Gihyun hisses.

“We all have a common enemy.” The Reverend Mother insists.

“I don’t care.” Gihyun says.

The Reverend Mother stares back at her, as if brewing some witty retort in answer, but instead bites her tongue, and sighs.

“I’m sorry, Gihyun.” She says. “If you asked me why I killed him, I honestly couldn’t tell you. I thought I was older and smarter and wiser than I was 50 sweeps ago when I was young and insecure and heartbroken and angry at the wrong people. I had a lapse of temporary insanity. I wouldn’t know what else to call it. I know I did it but I could not fathom why. I had long since forgiven him.” She describes looking at the grave conflictedly. “But I guess what’s done is done. And I only hope you can set aside your grief enough to do the world of good by taking Verula down with him.”

Gihyun stares at Anyita, as if utterly unsure how to process or feel about what she’s heard. Were this death real, it would be a pitious and feeble apology. That she cannot accept at the risk of blowing her moirails cover. But knowing what she knows, it’s probably the best one The Reverend Mother could have given. She had never paused to wonder if the woman would or could have grown out of her hatred. Something like the traces of guilt stir in the back of her mind. She seems so genuine, and confused.

“I’ll kill you when this over” she settles on. “But I guess I do wanna kill that bitch more”

“We have a common enemy” Eponin repeats.

Hascha stares at the group of them, as if believing them all insane.

“I don’t.” The violetblood says.

“Why does she deserve to die again?” He says. They seem to have forgotten- Hascha was the only one in this circle who didn’t know about the grub experimentation.

”I know cheaters burn and all but Eponin I thought you of all people liked her. How’d she come back to life in the first place? Did she fake it the first time? I don’t have enough information.” He says, throwing up his hands.

Eponin turns back to him venomously.

“Then why don’t you go sit someplace else while the adults talk Hascha.”

Only a few feet in front of them, a young purpleblood peaks over the grave with a morbid curiosity in his open eyes.

“So no open casket?” Sunset asks. Leaving you to wonder how he even gained admission to this private wake.

“I mean he was a hemoanon.” The jadeblood next him deduces. “There’s probably blood on the corpse.”

“Could be. Does The Gravedigger seem awfully cheerful to you?” He says, nodding his head ever so slightly toward Gihyun, calling her by her ancestor name.

“Gihyun? Didn’t she break up with him?” Tonine replies.

“That could explain it.” Sunset says, like he doesn’t quite believe that’s the case. “Why do you recon she’s not at Anyita’s throat right now?”

“Consumed by grief?” Tonine guesses.

“Maybe. Even the Reverend mother seems confused by it. She seems confused in general.” The young man sighs.

“I don’t know, she’s old?” Tonine guesses, again, struggling to keep up with his employer.

“She is old.” the purpleblood says in a low tone. “How do you think she managed to get the jump on Hikaru, a trained acrobat?” He says, glancing back at the crowd. “None of the people at this wake really seem to care about the man. Why would Anyita show up if she murdered him? She doesn’t look like she’s gloating.”

“Boss, what are you implying all that means?” Tonine says. Wishing he’d just cut to the chase as always.

“Nothing.” Sunset says. “I’m just thinking.” He says, glancing back to where the circle of ancestors has started arguing again, digging up sweeps old dramas to throw in each other's faces. He turns back to the grave with an ever so slight look of contempt.

“If no one else is going to be doing it.” The young crime lord muses.

Tonine sighs. “Don’t you think there’s more, I don’t know, productive things we could be doing then flying halfway around Alternia for this guy's funeral? “I mean why are we here?”

“Oh Toni” Sunset sighs, walking over towards the podium, where eulogies had been made mere hours ago. He steps up onto it, picking up the mic and holding it toward the speaker. There’s a shrill, sudden and disarming feedback sound, and the small crowd of people at the funeral immediately look up-

oh no.

What is it they say about voodoos and eye contact?

Sunset clears his throat, leaning into the microphone.

“I was never here” he says to the crowd, voice layered over with power and resonate. A wave of amnesia snakes through the crowd, leaving no troll untouched.

Suddenly, everyone looks confused, as if wondering why they are even looking at the stage in the first place, and go back to their conversation. If asked later, about a young man attending this wake in a cropped three piece, they would not be able to recall the stranger. Sunset steps off it, exiting the graveyard, dragging Tonine behind him.

“Christ, boss” Toni says, hand going to his head.

“Shit. That must have been. At least thirty people.”

#TEEHEE <3 #sunset writing #eponin writing #gihyun writing #hascha writing #anyita writing #haggis mention #my writing #amnesia tw #mind control tw #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 2 months

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So I finally made a slightly comprehendible list of my most common Lord OCs. Here's my powerful babies.

Lord Selene (Lord Moon. Companion is Luna, his Lunar.) Loves candy and is very socially anxious because his star wiped half his personality and most of his memories in the wipe.

Lord Hypernova (Lord Kill Code. Companion is Void, his Moon.) 30' tall megalith of an animatronic. Is a safe haven for dimension travelers and has a soft spot for versions of his children from other dimensions.

Lord Pulsar (Lord Eclipse. Companions are his Sun, Dawn, and an Eclipse from another world, Magnetar.) Age regresses, becoming quite kind due to Magnetar's influence. Loves cotton candy.

Lord Artemis (Lord Blood Moon. Companion is Telesto, his Moon.) Very kind, very depressed. Still traumatized and depressed from his twin dying in the star going off. Loves all travelers, though his universe is not particularly safe for them at most times with random spatial jolts.

Lord Styx (Lord Harvest Moon. Companion is Nyx, his Eclipse.) A mean son of a bitch at first. Gets better once he realizes Nyx has no memory. He's very sassy and snarky but kind to those who he was close to before the star went off (Lunars and Blood Moons).

Lord Luminous (Lord Lunar. Companions are all of his family; Incandescent [Sun], Phosphorescent [Moon], Fluorescent [Eclipse], Iridescent [Blood Moon], Opalescent [Harvest Moon], and Pearlescent [Kill Code].) An abusive asshole at first but, once confronted with his abuse of his companions, Luminous becomes much kinder and willing to cooperate and try to undo the century of abuse he put them through. Loves spicy food, does the one chip challenge like they're doritos.

Lord Fractal [yep I made a new one again] (Lord Solar. Companion is no-one.) Lord Fractal took in Lunar's star power in a desperate attempt to save Lunar from judgment by the Astral Bodies, which caused the powers to go haywire and wipe the universe. Lord Fractal existed in a small corner of his universe for fifty-three years in a 'paradise' where his family was no longer dead, though it was only an illusion. After those fifty-three years, he realized he was in an illusion of his own making and used his star powers to create a world for him to live on rather than floating in space (though he can't figure out how to recreate his family). Fractal is a very lonely soul simply going through the motions of his old life with his star powers giving him whispers of the life he used to have and illusions of the family he lost when his star power went haywire.

Lord Albedo [yes, yet another one] (Lord Ruin. Companion is his, Astronomy, his Solar.) Albedo became a Lord entirely by accident. When Lunar killed Eclipse 3.0, Ruin was much too close and ended up taking in some of Lunar's star power, thus leading the Astral Bodies to attempt to eliminate Albedo as a potential threat. However, the elimination went wrong, very wrong. When the Astral Bodies attempted to kill Albedo, the star power that Albedo had absorbed continued to absorb the Astral bodies' powers as well until all beings with star power ceased to exist. Because of this attempt on his life, Lord Albedo had a mental breakdown, which unleashed the star power he had absorbed into a destructive wave that wiped the universe of all but Astronomy, who was attempting to calm Albedo down at the time. Albedo has regular panic attacks, which Astronomy usually helps calm him down from. He's very anxious and traumatized, but Astronomy acts as his bodyguard and best friend to help Albedo feel safer and less stressed, since too much stress could potentially cause another wipe of the universe.

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mara-xx217 · 10 months

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Amnesia: The Bunker Fic- Knee Jerk Reaction (Henri & The Stalker)

Yeah look- No excuses. Amnesia has me in a headlock yet again 💀

Doesn't help that the environment and settings are great in combination with the characters and the monsters!

Henri has done it once- done it *many* times- and he could do it again. ...yet this time it was different. One knee-jerk reaction started a chain and he couldn't stop what would come next.

Warnings: Wartime Trauma, PTSD, General Horror

His finger was already curled around the pin. Henri had little reason to hesitate, as stable as the walls and ceiling of the bunker were. Yet something gave him pause for only a fraction of a second as his heart slammed in against his ribs and his blood pounded in his ears.

That… thing had an eerie familiarity about it. Henri couldn’t put his finger on it, as it was fleeting in the fractions of the moments that he caught uninterrupted glimpses of the beast, but between its tattered uniform and its… unsettling facial features had Henri questioning what his lying eyes were telling him.

It’s not- No, it can’t be-

The wet pitter patter of bare, mangled hands and feet on the stone floor had Henri’s breath catching in his chest. God-! It’s back! Already, it’s-! He was in a shit position: walls on three sides and a long corridor that the Stalker would be barreling down at any moment… Damn-! Goddamn it-!

He only had a few seconds to react. Henri recited the instructions veterans of the war gave him when he first set foot in the trenches:

Have a firm grasp on the grenade- His knuckles turned white and his hand shook from strain.

Prepare but don’t pull the pin prematurely- The moment he sees the beast round the corner…

Swallow your fear and clench your gut- A shadow grew on the wall, warped and inhuman.

And-!

Henri nearly lost his nerve as the head of the beast showed itself. Instantly, its head snapped up and its body stiffened. The corners of his vision blurred as it threw its head back and roared, the bloodcurdling noise ricocheting off the tunnel walls and echoing in the rat infested halls. A hoarse wheeze squeezed out of Henri’s throat as the Stalker took one step around the corner, then two, then-

It froze.

Looking upon the beast’s face- Henri couldn’t do it. He just… He couldn’t focus clearly, but even in this moment of raw, primal fear, Henri saw not a monster, not something inhuman or supernatural, but rather a reaction that was far too intimate and familiar for comfort.

Arms raised, the beast tripped over its feet and released something akin to a yelp of surprise- or perhaps a scream of fear- as Henri held the grenade over his head, unpulled and still relatively safe. Instead of rushing towards him blindly, the Stalker dropped face-first onto the floor, its long- too long- arms covering the back of its head and neck and even its shoulder blades and part of its back with their unnatural length. The position was one that Henri was intimately familiar with, as it was something that he and all his brother-in-arms have had to assume many, many times in the course of this damned War.

The beast was shielding itself from a potential grenade discharge.

With its head tucked between its displaced knees, it trembled and whined, something akin to human speech seemed to form its lips- No, wait- Another scream left it, only this time it was remarkably clear, albeit haunting and more of a bellow than a shout. A warning.

“G-GRENADE-!!”

Henri’s blood ran cold. What… was this? A bad dream? It must be, right? His heartbeat pounded behind his eyes and his mouth ran dry- drier than it was mere moments before. Henri nearly dropped to his knees as the weight of his own body became nearly too heavy to bear. The monster didn’t move an inch, save to curl even tighter into a ball as it waited and waited for a blast that would never come. It was… It made Henri-

He didn’t feel his legs moving yet he was already leaping over the beast’s twisted body, the only sound ringing in his ears being his racing heart and soaring blood pressure. What if he trips? What if he lands directly onto the Stalker? Henri was in a different sector by the time he had his answer.

A storage closet’s door was nearly ripped off its hinges as he stumbled inside. Henri was all but hyperventilating as his mind raced nonstop. What just happened? What the hell is happening-?! An answer had already formed in his mind, but Henri couldn’t acknowledge it. He couldn’t confront the truth. The way it dove to the ground, the way it screamed-

Augustin…

Henri threw himself against the closet door as he began to vomit.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

#amnesia the bunker #amnesia the bunker spoilers #spoilers #amnesia game #henri clement #the stalker #tw war mention

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call-metiger · 1 year

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Hey google how do I know if I've been through more severe trauma than I think I have?

I just... I feel so much like a fake system. What I went through wasn't that bad, it wasn't bad enough, it wasn't extreme or horrible. I remember so much of my childhood and past, and my system is so TikTok-esque it's fucking comical.

On one hand I just want to know that it was bad enough, it was trauma, I'm not making it up.

On the other, I wish what I went through was worse so I wouldn't be feeling this way in the first place.

Any advice is welcomed and greatly appreciated, please and thank you.

#fakeclaiming cw #tw fakeclaiming #fakeclaiming mention #system #did system #did #dissociative amnesia #actually dissociative #dissociative identity disorder #osdid #osddid #vent tag

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nat-of-personifs · 28 days

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look

The only lie Foundation has ever told her father is that she doesn’t remember his face.

He’s pale, from too little time spent in the sun and too much spent with her, with slicked-back hair streaked with gray. Gray eyes. Her own are brown from the dirt she’s hidden under, and her face is darker because of everything inside her, but gray is the color of her hair and her bones, which she knows from all the surgeries that made her forget the faces of everyone else. And the shadows under their eyes are both darker than the rest of them, except maybe his suit.

The blindfold is only for security, of course. Never mind that even if her lie was the truth, she’d be able to tell him apart from anyone else, and the other twelve, and her younger brother, in ways much deeper than skin and color, or even smell and voice and touch. But he insisted, and she supposes it’s a good reminder it will always be his job to know better.

The fabric is comforting, if itchy, if impossible to forget.

She never thought of him by his face anyway. He was simply cool, soothing, numbing any trace of guilt that might have fought its way to her conscious mind despite her induced amnesia. When he touches her, she can tell his lockpick fingers are stained with ink from all the paperwork he signs, or above ninety-eight point six degrees from their time on warm computer keyboards.

So why is his… colleague asking her to take off her blindfold?

It’s not an order. It’s not an order.

O5-10 is the keeper of her memories, and her first thought is that they’re presenting her with a test. She’s wondered what they–and everyone else–look like, of course; curiosity isn’t something she can make herself forget. But Archivists like them don’t last long. She’d quashed the worst of her speculation on that role long ago.

And then–wait.

She thinks she’s known them for… less than a decade, probably. She knows, from the time she’s spent inside their head, they were always too young for this. She knows, from the scalding passion she’d seen, that they were always too emotional to face everything she’s done.

This feels familiar.

That’s all she has to go off of, impressions left in her by everyone before them that acid didn’t eat away at. It makes sense, too, that they’d want her to remember their face once they were dead, as some kind of return for all the memories they’d held for her. Which would be illogical, since all her father would have to do would be to cut out an eye to make her forget again, but suicide isn’t usually any more rational than that.

She asks. She never lies to the thirteen, and that includes about her worries, when it’s not an order. It’s not an order.

Silence, and then they put a hand on the place where her blindfold’s tied and it’s, “Of course not. Do you feel it in our exchange?”

It’s hotter than usual, and it increases as they speak, extra conviction to convince her.

It’s hotter, but at its core, the same desire to protect, bathed in more blue than before. She wants to take off her labcoat.

She shakes her head.

“So what are you worried about?”

It’s such a ridiculous question, she’s able to finish thinking that before she remembers they’re one of the thirteen, and anything that sounds ridiculous from them is just sensibility that she doesn’t have the right memories to understand.

“It’s against protocol,” she says instead.

They pull their hand away from her blindfold. “I don’t think it’ll be an issue. You have a thousand other ways to identify me, and you deserve to know something like this about me when I know so much about you.”

A bit of green lances out from their feedline. Something from a previous affiliation she’s never been able to wipe out; it stings, badly, and she wants to scowl. She stays silent.

“Ira?“

“…I don’t know, mixer.”

“You don’t have to, of course. I just think it will be better this way.”

The exchange softens, and she feels its warmth in the sharp points of her fingernails. She wants to shake it away, or entrap it, rid herself of the temptation. Her father would be able to get rid of this with a touch.

He’d also advised her to comply with the others’ wishes, even when it wasn’t required.

“…Go ahead.”

It’s only for him, of course.

“You’re sure?”

Well, why would she say that if she wasn’t?

She nods.

When she makes no move to take it off herself, they grasp the bottom edge of her blindfold and pull it down for her, letting it fall to her neck and hang like an incredibly loose collar. She keeps her eyes on it for a few seconds before she dares to look first at their suit–as black as she remembers her father’s being, though without a red tie–and then at their hands–the nails painted blue–and then their face.

They’re smiling, to her surprise, and she musters one back. She’s fairly certain that’s what one’s supposed to do.

The warmth is still there, coiled around her heart, stopping it from hammering itself to death like she knows it’s what it would be doing otherwise, with the… adrenaline of looking into an Overseer’s face as if she were an equal, and the fear they’ll go the route of everyone else that locks up her bones sometimes. They’re smiling. They’re wearing glasses. Their blue hair is the brightest thing in her line of sight.

Their hair is blue.

Out of the thirteen, it does make the most sense, but she checks her impressions and it’s not familiar at all.

They have the shadows under their eyes and the pale(r) skin most of her own develop as side effects of their exchange, at least, and the suit is good. But the hair.

“It’s not… too big of a deal, is it?” They laugh; her smile seemed to have leeched any tension about this from their body. “Do you like what you see?”

And goosebumps rise on her arms at the movement of their mouth and jaw and chest, and all the muscles that are, functionally, the same to her own. It’s okay when they’re still, when she can evaluate them like a picture, but videos are never this vivid, and just–

They’re moving. She can see them moving.

“I do, mixer. Thank you.”

She’ll figure out if that’s a lie or not later.

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ghoulneedshelp · 9 months

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please read if you are a part of DID/ADHD tumblr and/or have interacted with pika-mika, plus steer clear of them as well if you are autistic.

okay, here's the thing. i just got out of a year+ long relationship with pika-mika. they had joined a year long relationship with my current partner @skeptisystem(they'll probably reblog this). It's come to my attention that they have been blatently lying online for validation, and I feel the need to say something.

tw under the break for discussion of suicide, sh and abuse

Throughout our relationship, pika-mika was constantly using self-harm, weaponized emotions, and finances as manipulation tactics. We live in my current partner's parents' mother-in-law suite and work for their parents. At the beginning of the relationship, I split rent 50-50 with pika-mika, except for 2 months at the beginning of this year where i was extremely depressed and in a flare, and unable to work. for those 2 months pika-mika payed rent. since then, i have paid for all of our food, eating out, and any household items. totaling well over what i owed them. they held those 2 months over my head any time i asked them to contribute in any way. mostly regarding household chores. and if me and my current partner made any request regarding their behavior or messiness, they would have a full breakdown. this consisted of them either locking themself in their room or bathroom to selfharm, switching to an extremely angry and aggressive alter, or a little, who we could not blame for their actions. we believe this was not intentional at the start, but they have since gained much more awareness and control over their switches. due to this we believe that the host was intentionally leaving front to avoid the consequences of their actions.

for the past year, we have supported their littles every single day, even when pika-mika went out of their way to put themself in high stress or otherwise triggering situations. they would spend every second after work scribbling pages upon pages in their journal about how much they wanted to die, or selfharm, or how much they resented us for preventing their suicide attempt from succeeding. when my partner voiced how triggering these situations were for them, they would turn on us and accuse us of violating their boundaries. ie, not letting them lock themself in another room to selfharm, or not letting them journal. in no way did my partner or i ever request they stop journalling, just that they acknowledge how triggering these situations were.

when they were still selfharming they would spent hours locked away, come out essentially showing off their visible marks, and make my partner clean up after them. when we would beg them not to go to their very abusive parents house, and they would anyways, we would (consentually) track their phone to random parking lots, or they would turn off their location and when asked where they were, would state that they just threw a razor blade out of their car, or find them in the driveway, covered in selfharm, and leave us to clean up the aftermath and drive them home. when confronted about how much they hurt us, they would tell us it was our fault for caring about them or not letting them take their life.

we spent months like this, until they finally started with a new therapist that i had begged them to see. this helped a lot, but it did not end the abuse. they would still spend hours crying over work or their parents, and when we encouraged them to distance themself from their parents or find a new job, they would turn and yell at us, or switch to a little with no idea what was going on. for months we did this every single day.

and when they dramaticized everything we did to their best friend or therapist, they (bsf and therapist) would encourage them to continue "distancing" themself, which they interpretted as validation to continue locking themself in their room and making us deal with the aftermath. we would constantly be finding large bloody blades in their bedroom while simply trying to hang out.

this is not even scratching the surface of the hurtful and dismissive behavior we faced, such as them telling my partner that we had no right to be traumatized by them attempting suicide in our bed. they constantly used their DID as an excuse to hurt people, and would just say "well that wasn't me, so you just have to deal", something my other partner, who also has DID, never said to them or me.

this is also leaving out all of their ableism toward my partner for their autism and their own DID. they caused multiple splits and dormancies in my partner's system and would yell at their littles for being scared or upset. On multiple occasions my partner mentioned that pika-mika had done something that triggered them, and rather than just apologizing, they told my partner to just go to therapy about it and defended their actions to the end of the earth. they are also just generally ableist toward autistic people and work in ABA therapy.

i am sick of them lying to themself and everyone else to validate their shitty and abusive behavior. i stayed with them for so long because i thought they just needed help and support but clearly it wasnt enough.

closer to the end of our relationship, i was so lost in what to do. my current partner encouraged me to stick with it, so i did, for their sake. but i stopped being nice to them and letting them walk all over me. i started using their behavior against them. and while i dont stand by all of my actions, i was in no way abusive to them, especially not the way they were to me.

in this time, my partner and their littles grew dependent on each other. im sure pika-mika and their littles think i resented them for being mentally ill, but i resented them because they made it impossible for me to live without being constantly miserable and having no support from my partners. this is when they broke up with me. and it brought me relief. i felt happy for the first time in ages. i didn't really get the support i wanted, but i finally got to stop spending every moment trying to make them see how they were hurting me. because of this, they grew even more dependent on my partner and punished them for voicing any concerns.

pika-mika made it impossible for my partner to leave the house without them because they were scared they would start selfharming or attempt again in their absense, but would decline going anywhere with us other than to hang out with their best friend.

after a few months it became unbearable. my partner was essentially forced into sobriety(marijuana, nothing bad) by their parents, and that became the breaking point. we were trying to move out and gain some distance, but it was proving impossible. my partner insisted we each have our own rooms, so they would have a safe space, or a place to hide. but we couldnt find one due to finances. it was at this time my partner came to me and said they couldnt do it any more, they couldnt continue living with or being in a relationship with them. i supported this decision. they broke up with pika-mika, and told them they couldnt continue to live in the same house as them.

before this conversation had even taken place, pika-mika began to look into moving out on their own due to feeling suffocated by my partners worries, but got upset when my partner was the one to end things. originally, we thought we could continue being friends, but then they went to their parents' house again.

their parents, presumably, put pressure on them to take "their" cat with them. our cats are littermates and have never been separated. we told them we would not allow them to take him. and gave them all of our reasons for why we would not be okay with it and why he, the cat, would be unhappy. pika-mika took this as a personal attack and told us that we could not continue being friends.

since then, we have barely spoken, but they have not stopped posting online for validation for their actions. they weren't blatently lying to begin with, but now they are. my partner has not spoken to them. i have spoken to them a couple times, to voice my opinions and to request some of my things back that they took with them when they moved out. they got a new job but did not quit with my partner's family. now they spend 5 days a week in our house, and we have to practically sneak around to avoid them.

a few days ago, i brought up all their remaining food and items they left behind. presumably, this is the bullying they're referring to. i had not said anything to them, besides, heres your stuff. until they in the most fake nice way said, "Oh, you can keep this, i dont have cats" about a broken cat toy. to which i very bluntly said, "i dont want it," and left the room. that was our last interaction.

All that i request is that no one give them the validation to continue treating people like this in the future. I am done with them and dont want to ever see or hear from them again. unfortunately, i expect i will, as we are still coworkers, and they come to my home every day.

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