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#tw: dissociation
hanaotaku95 · 5 days
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Hazbin Hotel: Self care edition
So I’ve been obsessing over Hazbin Hotel for a hot minute now and the first thing that really comes to mind for context is self care.
To elaborate, I mean the fact that these characters often have animalistic features as part of their designs. Well, imagine them having to maintain the care of said features?
1) Hooves
To start us off, l want to bring attention to the fact that both Alastor and Charlie have hooves. Yup, both are hidden pretty well, but they are there.
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If anyone has ever been around farm animals like cows and horses, you’ll know that hoof care is extremely important for the health of the animals. So why not apply this to Charlie and Alastor.
Imagine them having hoof care kits and Charlie wants to take the opportunity to bond with Alastor more so this is basically like having a nail care day at a salon!
2) Wings
Next are wings and we have three winged characters in the Hotel: Lucifer, Vaggie and Husk. Wing care must be extremely important for them to be able to fly well.
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Starting with Lucifer, it’s important to note that the man has Depression and has Dissociative periods where he can’t pay attention for the life of him. So it’s unfortunately easy to imagine that he would often forget to preen his wings.
Well, after moving into the Hotel, I can see Charlie taking this opportunity to strengthen her bond with her dad by doing something that she has always wanted to do. She loves her dad’s wings and ends up helping him preen while they talk about anything and everything.
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Next is Vaggie and it would be a similar premise with Charlie wanting to bond more with her girlfriend and reforge their relationship. Yes, she is hurt that Vaggie wasn’t truthful but she still loves her.
Also, apparently, Vaggie and Charlie have been together for around 3 years or so, meaning Vaggie likely hadn’t taken out her wings at all until the battle. So she is way behind on taking care of them. Charlie uses her experience with her father’s wings to assist here and the women can talk.
Finally, Husk and honestly this could be a Huskerdust moment with Angel helping an all too tired Husk preen his wings and make sure they’re healthy and in flying shape.
3) Fur
Both Angel and Husk have fur, which means fur brushing!
Angel looks like he is the king of hair care, maintaining short and soft fur and making sure to remove any mats, knots or shed fur.
Husk has a bit more to get through with his, as he has relatively long fur. Like with his wings, I can see Angel helping Husk brush out his fur and remove any clumps, loose fur and knots. It would be a good Huskerdust moment!
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4) Ears
Finally, we have ears and both Husk and Alastor have them.
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This is one both boys want to take care of by themselves. Ear care is important for all animals and in people with such large ears, it’s easy for either of them to collect dust and other stuff, meaning wax build up. So in the privacy of their rooms, they dedicate part of their time to cleaning out their ears and maybe even applying ear drops for extra health benefits.
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mahoushojo-chan · 5 months
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Astarion x Tav || dissociation
something i wanted to feel
warnings: dissociation, ptsd, trauma synopsis: disguised as a drow, tav finds astarion after he's reverted back to old, unhealthy ways of using his body. she brings him back. When Astarion hears her normal voice, he feels soothed. “You weren’t here, fully. I wanted to bring you back.” She explains, like it’s the simplest thing. “If I let you continue, it felt like I would lose you.” she continues. an excerpt of 'cause my love (is mine, all mine) word count: 1,001 pairing: astarion/tav other tags: f!reader, half-elf?tav, bard!tav, hurt/comfort, angst, non-sexual intimacy, friends to lovers, song inspo: sanctuary by joji ao3: here concept: dissociation and grounding techniques
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The elf—half elf, maybe, based off the point of their ear? They grab Astarion’s wrist to stop him, and pull him away. “P-Put on your clothes, first.”
There's something off, like the pieces of the puzzle don't quite fit together. The man before him appears unnaturally flawless, almost like plastic rather than real flesh. Confused, Astarion takes a step back.
“Well, if that’s… what you wish.” Astarion replies and proceeds to redress himself. He's so bewildered by the situation that he foregoes any reverse strip-tease or other playful undressing antics; it completely escapes his thoughts. He simply puts his clothes back on, sliding his pants over his legs and fastening his belt. His shirt follows, and after it's on, he walks back over to the other person. Astarion supposes that this is okay. He hadn't exactly planned anything out, after all. Whether he’s naked or clothed while he does… whatever he’s going to do doesn’t matter to him at all.
"Now, where were we?" Astarion inquires, his hands gently cradling their artificial features, as he attempts to regain his focus.
However, they gently remove his hands from their face and clasp his hands in theirs, asking, "How does it feel?"
Astarion’s response is automatic. “Oh, it feels lovely. I’d love to see what other—”
“Ah-ah,” they tut, “tell me about my hands. How do they feel?”
Astarion takes a second. A hint of confusion prods at his mind for a second before he understands that he’s supposed to actually be using his body to relay these sensations. He looks down, and the discrepancy between how they look and feel strikes him again. “Well, they’re soft, of course. They’re… thin, and graceful…” he says, all compliments that he expects they would want to hear. But then his hand runs over their ring finger, and he blinks, because he feels a callous that he doesn’t see. Then, he begins to realize who he’s with. “There’s always a callous that never quite heals, here… and then the scar, and… well, you have a hangnail here. Your nails have grown out, Tav.”
He grins, finally thinking he’s realized their ruse. When he looks up, he sees Tav give a tired smile, though she’s still in her disguise.
Instead of ending it there, she continues with a pleased hum, “Are my hands warm?”
“Yes, always. A little warmer today, but—what are you doing?” Astarion interjects, confused.
She never answers him properly at times like these. Instead, she asks him, “Do I smell bad?”
Astarion takes some time to mull it over before he shakes his head. “No… no, you rarely do. Well, my tastes deviate from others, and I take quite a delight when you’re covered in blood, of course, but—”
“What do I smell like?”
He takes in a breath of air, and then deeply exhales. Her scent is familiar, now. “Like… well, something floral, usually. A little like parchment, maybe the slightest of resin…”
She dispels the disguise. Even though it's just the two of them, it seems a bit reckless, considering he’s not sure how they'll escape. However, Tav usually thinks ahead more than he does, and Astarion doesn't have the time to dwell on it as she continues her line of questioning, “And do I look okay?”
Now that he sees her for her, his gaze drops into something more affectionate. “Your hair never sits quite right, here.” He says, teasing the rebellious tuft of hair on her head before flattening it. “There. Now you look perfect.”
He lingers a little when she finally lets go of his hands. He feels a little disappointed, but she self-consciously helps to flatten her hair. Astarion takes the opportunity to finally ask, “Care to tell me what all that was about?”
When he hears her normal voice, he feels soothed. “You weren’t here, fully. I wanted to bring you back.” She explains, like it’s the simplest thing. “If I let you continue, it felt like I would lose you. My only regret is not coming sooner…” she continues.
Astarion blinks in surprise. He realizes he hadn’t particularly been in pain, and part of him still feels like he wants to get lost in his own head, but Tav’s soft explanation—though he’s not quite listening to it so much as he is just relaxing into the comforting cadence of her voice—keeps pulling him back out of it.
The almost liberating numbness is inexplicably nudged to the side by his desire to feel her again.
Then it dawns on him, the gravity of his recent actions—how he had behaved when he was still feeling like a puppet on strings. He remembers pinning her against the wall, pressing his lips to hers, and he stammers, "Oh—I'm sorry for... I mean, I didn't mean to—"
"It was never going to happen," she states, and Astarion experiences a brief pang, a sting in a vulnerable spot, just for a moment. It's as though she's saying, I'm never going to sleep with you, but that’s what he wants, isn’t it? He wants not to sleep with her. He wants something beyond mere physical intimacy, and he has that with Tav.
Seeing his confusion, she snaps him out of his reverie and tells him, “It didn’t mean anything.”
This, in a way, makes the feeling worse because Astarion interprets it as ‘forget it ever happened’. But given that he’s still rather embarrassed about the whole ordeal—the inability to recognize her, his behaviour—he’s actually okay with complying.
So he takes her hands this time and rests his forehead against hers. She feels as warm as he remembers.
Finally, he responds. “Thank you.”
She seems to let him rest for a moment, and he sees her whisper a word of healing. He feels some of the earlier bruises and gashes heal themselves, and it’s not perfect, but he feels significantly better. At that time, he finally separates from her. But then, now that he’s fully present, he sees her as she is—she seems tired, her features gaunt, but she seems relieved.
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xysidhequeen · 5 months
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New Equilibrium Chapter Just Dropped
Snippet:
"Why did you come now ? When there's no one left to save?!" Danny demanded, head bowed, white hair falling like a curtain over his red eyes.
"There is still someone left to save, Daniel. You." Clockwork shifted to his elderly form, his voice so gentle. It scraped like sandpaper over the raw wounds leaking in his chest. He didn't deserve kindness, gentleness. Not after what he'd done. What he'd failed to do.
"Me?" Danny asked, head tilting back as a rasping, bitter laugh left his lips, "I'm nothing . I lost my haunt, lost my fraid . I am nothing ." Danny bit out, lips thick with ectoplasm from his throat.
"You do not understand your own greatness, Daniel. You are everything . And if I had allowed you to follow the path the rage inside you demands, you'd drag this world to destruction." Clockwork informed him, shifting Danny in his hold, drawing him closer. Offering him a comfort Danny didn't feel he'd earned.
"Maybe this world deserves it."
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canichangemyblogname · 10 months
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When I started therapy, I was actually hung up on the fact that I didn't seem to have ever experienced dysphoria, which is a lie that has its origins in part in the fact I had no fucking clue what dysphoria actually is. I've since found that it's actually kinda hard to explain, and that's why these narratives that dysphoria is when trans people are revulsed by their body and agab, or when they "hate" their past self, persist. It's also why these "trapped in" bodies and "wrong" bodies narratives exist.
Like. I'm in my body. My body is my body. My consciousness isn't in another person's body; it's in my own. And I know myself. I know myself well enough to know that I am not a woman despite society telling me that my bits, pieces, and parts "make" me one. And how else do I explain this to someone with no frame of reference for this? I liken it to "Freaky Friday," despite the fact that's- technically- what it isn't? It’s like having an out-of-body experience. You're looking at your body. You know it's your body. But there's also a disconnect. Something's missing, and something's there that makes no sense.
I also don't think I could ever hate the girl my parents tried to raise or the woman I wanted so desperately to be. That wouldn't be very kind to me. She really tried her damnedest. And she's not "dead" because she's a vital part of my past. I, quite technically, wouldn't be trans if "she" never existed. I'd be a cis man if I was never afab. "Trans" is an important part of my lived reality.
Was I ever a "girl"? A part of me still has no idea. I know I truly believed I was, but the reasons I believed I was weren't healthy.
I held on to a lot of sex-essentialist ideas for a good portion of my youth. Why? It was all that connected me to the identity society and my family was trying to raise me into. When my cousin gifted me a uterus pin with the words "Women's rights" on it, I wore it proudly. It was a very tenuous connection to womanhood, and it was a connection I needed to critically rethink when my mother and grandmother were both diagnosed with cervical cancer (I was 11). I knew that it ran in my family and that, one day, I might need to go through the same surgery they did just to live.
I asked my mom what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: motherhood. I was never, ever going to be a mother, so I returned to the drawing board. I asked my grandmother what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: standing up to violent men and men who denied her and other women the opportunity to work; community. And I realized that I had never been extended the same community my grandmother always had been. Part of the disconnect I felt was due to violence (sexual and not) I had experienced in single-sex, "women's only" spaces. Girls in "girl's only" spaces made it clear that I was not welcome, and, at the time, I didn't understand why they singled me out and picked on me.
Even though my family was trying to raise me as a girl, the society around me saw me as nothing more than a "failed" girl. I was an "unwoman," not "woman enough," for reasons such as what I preferred to wear. But it's not like in marking me as "unwoman," they made me into a man, far from it. They sorted me- on the basis of my queerness- into some other third category. Something of a eunuch.
And it seemed like the only thing I had was some sex-essentialist, cisgender pretense (I absolutely loved the linked blog post as I found it quite striking, even though I was *never* trans-exclusionary, and I never supported those ideas about trans people) to sort of reassure myself that I belonged in society. Every time I usurped or rebelled against our sex/gender norms, I would work to distract myself from how I constructed my body into a binary and thus ignore how being made into a girl was wrong for me. I literally disconnected myself from parts of my internal self & internal thoughts, and I denied myself the opportunity to construct an identity. I was constantly gaslighting myself and consistently engaged in thought-stopping. In part because I was terrified of being "different."
I so desperately wanted to be just like every other girl that I ignored the fact that I likely never was (and that there is no such thing as universal woman/girlhood). With that realization, I could hear the words of my school-yard bullies from years ago, words which, it seems, many trans masc people have heard in their lifetime, "What's wrong? We're all girls here, aren't we? We're all alike."
I've been unable to recognize my own dysphoria because I have spent my whole life purposefully ignoring and distracting myself from those moments of "huh. something's off." I spent some 23 years of my life essentially disassociating from myself (I'm 26 now). I felt detached from my body and detached from the world around me. It felt as if everyone else was moving, but I was floating in place. I disconnected myself from my thoughts and emotions in an attempt to be accepted by a society that finds queerness disgusting.
I literally felt like I was watching my life and body unfold without my consent rather than me unfolding it myself. So, I liken my experience to "Freaky Friday" because that's also what it is.
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barbiediaz · 1 year
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IT'S ALL THE PROOF I NEED {1.4k | angst | comfort| open ended} [ao3] tw: slight alcoholism, implied dissociation.
a/n: title from i'm ready by adam melchor- which i highly recommend listening to. so in the days following the (correct) spec, i said buck says yes and is then denied because of his family history only for that to become like the idea in the following days (i am not at all salty). Anyway, i finally was able to crank out something along those lines so here ya go. i am apparently only capable of writing dialogue atm so there's a lot of it. just a forewarning, buck is a bit hot headed and prickly in this which is a heavy dose of projection but not 100% ooc imo- it's basically grocery store fight 2.0 where buck gets to poke the bear. also! there are several open ended strings including the ending- but I did it on purpose cause to me that feels more realistic for the messy emotions that are being presented in the moment, that would realistically be addressed later, probably in therapy, but i don't have any ideas on how to tie them up in an interesting way. anywho, i will get this on ao3 as well soon, enjoy it!
“So, did you make up your mind?” Hen asks as she sits on the couch, a mug in her hands but still in her civvies.
And she didn't need to clarify.
But it made Buck jumpy, nervous, because he hadn’t told anyone except her that there was even something to make his mind up about. Not Eddie, not Maddie- and if Chimney was around then he was telling her by extension. Hence no one else knowing.
“Yeah, yeah I did, I decided I was capable of that, I think.”
“You think?”
“Capable of what?” Eddie asked looking up from his book, brow furrowed, either by the parenting teenagers advice he had just read, but more likely just now being clued in that there was something for Buck to decide he was capable of.
“Really?” Hen asked.
“Yeah, I um, I kind of do it already in a way so, um, yeah. I wanted to give them their dream. And this doesn’t mean I'm giving up my own dreams for that, it’s just that-”
“Okay what are you talking about Buck?” Eddie says, the book now abandoned on the arm of the couch.
Hen’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline.
“No, I never said anything to him.” Buck half mumbles.
“Well now I think you have to.”
Buck shoots her a glare that has heat but isn’t malicious.
“I’m really sorry Buck, but I just assumed you would’ve said something by now!” Hen says placatingly, putting her hands up.
Buck only responds by trying to bury his face in the table.
“I agreed to be my old roommate and his wife’s sperm donor.” he says into the table, the words muffled and garbled slightly by the table.
“I’m sorry you what!?” Eddie replies, and it almost feels like he’s being scolded a little bit.
“I’m gonna be a sperm donor for my friends okay?” Buck says again, sitting up straight.
“I heard you the first time. That’s a really big, life changing decision, so I guess it took me by surprise is all. Eddie says.
“So this is how it’s gonna be? You get all passive aggressive about me making a decision about my life, that doesn't affect you in the slightest- yeah, that’s rich coming from you Eddie.”
“Buck-”
“You are one to talk when you didn’t tell me for a year, a year, about a decision you made that affects me without asking, without letting me know. What did you think was going to happen if you died that day Eddie- that I would hear it from a lawyer? That no one else knew and your parents would just swoop in because no one knew about your wishes. And you were right- I would fight for him if they did. But I deserved to hear it from you. And I know I did, but that was not a given Eddie.”
“Buck, hey, that is not how I meant that. At all. And you’re right I should have told you. But before, when you said-”
“I was talking about him, yeah. Every time I think about myself like that towards him- I wanna throw up cause it’s like I’m saying that I wish that you were- And I could never wish that in a million years Eddie, never. So I have to stop myself, and walk away. Because I never want to know what that’s like again. I don’t want to live in this world without you ever again. And you can’t promise that won’t happen, none of us can. But it has me praying to a God that I have never believed in.”
“I never said you had to walk away, Buck. And- I don’t want you to.”
“Okay, sorry I blew up- I just-”
“Needed to let off some steam. We never talked about it, sorry about that.”
Eddie squeezes his shoulder, and the tingling warmth radiating through his body. He knows they aren’t done talking but as he raises his gaze to the rest of the loft and sees the others holding delicate gazes in their direction he understands why they stopped. Everyone slowly finds their own task to keep themselves busy, Buck just wishes he could go home. But he can’t, so he gets up, shakes it off and joins Bobby in the kitchen silently.
He listens to the voicemail in the car before he leaves the station parking lot. The clinic left it four hours ago. Eddie had already taken off, the unspoken promise to see each other in less than an hour.
Your family medical history requires reporting to the donor recipients to proceed, our recommendation to them would be to move forward with another donor. Please call us back-
He shuts the recording off and grips the wheel as he feels himself drift away from his body. He really means to go to Eddie's, he really does. But he finds himself in the parking lot of the bar where he met Red. And he only sort of feels the persistent buzzing in his pocket that starts up an hour later, 3 whiskeys later because that’s how Buck was measuring time right now. He’s had a fourth by the time Eddie makes it to the bar.
“You weren’t picking up and I looked, I know we said only if you were with Chris- but I just wanted to make sure you at least got home cause then I would know that you were just still mad at me. But then you were here, and I just got the weird feeling so- I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry, and if you want me to go I’ll go,” Eddie’s voice catches a little, “I know I just broke your trust a little bit, but I-”
“You know I think my mom was right.” Buck slurs, “I am broken. I think there is something fundamentally wrong about me. I just wanted to help a friend ya know? But noo, just another thing Daniel ruined for me.”
Eddie has now taken a seat next to Buck, and silently ordered waters for the both of them.
“Buck, what happened?”
“The clinic called. They have to recommend that they use someone else's sperm because of my family history. And it’s perfectly reasonable, I get it I really do. Doesn’t mean I can’t be upset though. You know I always had this weird feeling that it wouldn’t work out. Because things never work out for me. I leave home but I leave my sister behind in the hands of someone I knew was a piece of shit. I take my best friend’s son for a fun day at the pier, and boom a fucking tsunami takes out Santa Monica. Save a kid from his own mother, and whaddya know my best friend gets shot in front of me. You want me to keep going, cause I can. Because after that I find out that the only way that I could have the one thing that I really want- it means losing half of what I wanted in the first place.”
“Buck-”
“I can’t keep going like this Eddie. I just- I have tried so hard to be at ease. Make that thing I’m looking for. But I can’t. I can’t because I already have it but I don’t know if who I have it with sees it the same way. Every time I walk away I lose a sliver of hope.” He says the last part quietly and staring into the depths of the empty whiskey glass, entranced by the way the warm light reflecting on the wood is warped by the glass.
Eddie squirms on the sticky stool, and Buck looks up at him studying his face gently, he’s sure the alcohol has dissolved the mask that he has when he’s sober, that Eddie can see everything he meant, but he doesn’t care anymore.
“You-” Eddie tilts his head, “You never have to walk away from Chris,” he bites his lip and drops his gaze briefly before meeting Buck’s eyes again, “you never have to walk away from me.”
“That obvious huh?” Buck asks as he finally takes a sip of water.
“Well it helped that we made it together. You don’t have to walk away, I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Eddie finally places a hand on his forearm, and it’s the first thing that’s made him feel grounded in what felt like hours, and it spreads through his body. “Until then, let’s get you home.”
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normaltothemax · 2 months
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Dissociation starters “Okay, I’ll be here.” ((For Clint from Tim))
He’d had a panic attack. A bad one. One the likes of which he hadn’t dealt with since the immediate aftermath of Loki. After the shaking and the wheezing and the tears had stopped, he just…hadn’t gotten back up off of the floor. Had instead zoned right out and just never zoned back in.
Now, Clint couldn’t remember what’d triggered him in the first place, could barely remember what day it was. He felt…floaty. Untethered. Like he was a boat, drifting off to sea. Or maybe a balloon, drifting higher and higher into the clouds. He wasn’t all there, was the point. A third party watching his own body just sit there, still and quiet—two qualifiers that very rarely applied to Clint.
A voice spoke (he was pretty sure it was a voice, at least), but Clint didn’t know what was said. His aids were out, sitting on the nightstand in the bedroom. The words were just a muffled sound coming from far, far away. He blinked, the action feeling like it took ages to complete, noted a blob of colour (a person probably; he should’ve been more concerned about that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care all that much) in the corner of his eye, but didn’t bother to look away from the wall across the room. He couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to.
After all, he wasn’t really there.
@arobinwithoutbatman (x)
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~ books read in 2023 ~
#12: One Fell Sweep by Ilona Andrews
A faint chime tugged me out of sleep.
Rating: 4/5
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murdershaped · 5 months
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Because of the traumatic experiences it was exposed to from a young age, Orin nearly constantly experiences derealization. Derealization affects one’s ability to recognize their thoughts and feelings and is described as a disconnect from reality. Events and surroundings may seem like they are distant or aren’t really happening, as though they are simply observing. Extreme stress or intense emotions that aren't being properly addressed or processed can lead to the brain choosing to retreat instead of facing the reality.
Biggest example we have in canon to support my thoughts on it is the act of killing or maiming the Dark Urge, her sibling. Orin did look up to them and even love them, but the jealousy and anger over seeing them being chosen over it lead to that disconnect. Orin knows very little about the world and emotions. Identifying what it is feeling is very difficult for Orin as all of it just feels as though everything is just a blur. Every thought and feeling just becomes numb and everything feels the same. Things happen, but they seem distant like they aren’t happen to her. All they know is to kill. Is there a problem? Kill it. Feeling bored? Kill something. Feeling intense rage and jealousy among all of the sorrow and despair of your sibling criticizing the only thing you know how to do? Kill them. There is no concept of what happiness and fulfillment could be like, there is only murder. Orin has no other coping or problem solving skills besides the act of murder.
So when it made the choice to hurt its sibling, Orin barely felt its true emotions. As they ground through the scalp and dug into their mind matter, they laughed. She thought this was the only solution and any despair was drowned out by the thrill of becoming Bhaal’s chosen. The consequences of her actions were hardly registered. Orin knew that they were getting rid of their sibling, it also knew that meant they wouldn’t be around anymore. But fully understanding that it would never earn its admiration, what it really wanted, was forever out of reach. Disposing of them wouldn’t make Orin the favorite, what she really wanted. But being so disconnected and misunderstanding the mortal experience as much as she does, what else could it turn to? Sometimes Orin still thinks to go tell her sibling something, the fact that they are gone barely registering at times.
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himbos-hotline · 1 month
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It was fun liveblogging with yall! I'm gonna go back to feeling like I don't exist as a person or even as a concept now. I have such a headache.
Send me asks and I'll answer when I feel more human/tomorrow because my grandads going into hospital to see if his cancers spread
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trevorendeavors · 1 year
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December 6, 2022. To all those on A03 who’ve waited patiently for chapter 4, I do apologize for the wait. It’s still in production, but while y’all waiting, have this and a preview of Hexsquad Among Humans: Perils of a Realm Beyond the Boiling Isles | Chapter 4: The Dinner:
“Luz showed me her ancient human archive of knowledge, the wiki! I memorized the passage on the creation of apple juice,” Gus bragged, as if it were the words of some ancient scroll he’d recited and not the encyclopedia that every once in a while was tweaked to say the moon was in fact made of cheese. Library databases were more reliable sources of information, but Luz could barely figure out how to navigate those and so she hadn’t introduced him to them yet. She’d promised herself she’d get around to showing him those when she was competent enough not to embarrass herself in front of him. That day never came, and so he was stuck with wikis that were only surface level.
“Yeaaah,” Vee scratched behind her head. “You always gotta double check what you get from there. Anyone can edit that to say whatever they want.”
“…oh.”
“If you want more reliable info, the local library’s a pretty good source.”
“You have those here?” Amity perked up, “That’s right… the human bookworms!” She turned to Luz. “Maybe sometime we can go see them, right?” Hearing her genuinely a little enthusiastic was so sweet. Titan, did Luz wish it was under any other circumstances than the ones they just came from that they ended up in the human realm. Maybe then they could’ve had that mundane slice-of-life date she promised and not have the destruction of the isles on their mind.
<i>Still, a trip to hit the books might be in order. </i>
History books and old spell books were likely the best place to search for leads on getting back to the isles. Even if the information was bound to be vastly inaccurate. All the sources Luz had ever had on magic before - whether from ancient myths, fantasy books, or online forums - had been wrong to a degree. Not even the databases were guaranteed to have reliable information. How could they when all humans had to go off of were leaks from another world and not firsthand experience? Then again, maybe humans <i>had</i> traveled there and back again but to different regions. <i>Or maybe even different titans.</i> It wasn’t impossible, as long as Titan blood leaked into the right puddles of water at the right location. Even then, narratives weren’t guaranteed to be accurate. Philip was - <i>once was</i> - living proof that humans tended to distort the truth of magic intentionally. Finding a way back was going to be like finding a needle in a mountain of unreliably documented haystacks.
“Luz?”
A gentle squeeze of her arm brought her back to reality. It occurred to her she hadn’t replied verbally or via text to her girlfriend’s suggestion. Without thinking she mumbled, “Uh, sure. Yeah.”
Amity frowned.
— END OF PREVIEW
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@cozytealeaf93
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ashton-ryder · 5 months
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🔥🍑 📙
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ; 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 … ( 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 ) (x)
🔥 — everything’s all aflame! a headcanon about a time in my muses life that felt incredibly chaotic or out of control around them.
tw: dissociation 
Ashton comes from a quieter part of Minnesota and never really lived in a huge city with him more attuned with being in nature. So to have been accepted into NYU for doctorate program and moving there had him facing the urban jungle and he didn’t expect it to feel that overwhelming. The day he arrived, every sudden loud burst of sounds had him on edge and flinching, especially just leaving the marines and the mishaps of his final mission. He remember trying to walk through the crowded streets to get groceries; people shoving, fast walkers glaring, cars honking, ambulances blaring, and Ashton remembered his mind shutting down as if to protect and disconnect him from the bombardment to his mind, dissociating and watching himself try to keep up with the notions of New York life, blurring the noises away, numbing himself from the overstimulation of life, one step forward, and then the next, just get to somewhere quieter, somewhere to think without the chaos. He didn’t know how long had passed. And before he knew it, he stopped dead in the middle of the street, an oncoming car blaring loudly at him and a kind stranger yanking him out of the streets and out of the self preserving state he was in that unknowing could’ve led to his death. It took him a long time to get accustomed to New York, starting with a constant use of headphones and music yet slowly but surely, the city life would grow on him.
🍑 — you’re a peach! a headcanon specifically about a physical aspect of a person they are attracted to.
Physical and sexual attraction was something less familiar to Ashton compared to emotional attraction, he had a hard time grasping for an understanding of it when his friends or bunkmates talk about it. He thought back then that maybe something was broken in him that he couldn't relate, but it rarely bothered him. He had other things to do in life. He had his whole life ahead of him to come back and figure it out again, maybe if he just waited a little more it'll hit him. It never did but Ashton never felt like he was losing out. But if he had to choose a physical aspect that he at least admired, it would be people's eyes, as the saying goes, the eyes are the windows to the soul, you can see one's joy, sadness, fear, unfiltered. What a beautiful aspect of humanity's silent communication.
📙 — in the orange book! for a book, poem or piece of literature that my muse really loves, and why.
The Voyager Record: A Transmission by Anthony Michael Morena
You are getting so far away now. Does your distance mean your irrelevance? How the further away you hurtle from Earth, the less you become about us. You will be about another people, not who we are. Faerie elves exist only to supply meaning to words like "flit" and "folk." This is you to us. A boogeyman encased with stellar dirt with a golden eye that, in ideal conditions, sings.
Ashton remembers finding this fascinating book when it first launched, encapsulating the beauty of The Voyager's Golden Record mission back in the 1970s. He has always been a man of science, of numbers, hard cold facts and calculations of space. He lost a bit of the spark of wonder over the years and his professor recommended to him to reconnect with the human and philosophical aspects of space. We look to space because we are human. We can't forget that.
The Voyagers carry a message from Earth, a phonograph record plated with gold containing 27 songs, 118 images, and greetings in 55 languages meant to summarize all life on our planet for the extraterrestrials who might one day encounter the crafts. This book is the record of that record: a history in fragments exploring how legendary astronomer Carl Sagan and his team attempted to press the entire human race into a single groove.
Often, the book focuses on what’s not on the record. No photo of a naked man and a naked woman. No hip hop. No gay couples. No Grandmaster Flash. Many of the book’s pages contain only one paragraph, or a single word, with each snippet floating in a white space that invites further rumination. Zooming the lens way, way out, the book asks us to consider humanity’s need to nail down our context in the universe.
In effect, it elegantly and soulfully reaches to grasp the vastness of space, human experience, and manifestations of our attempts to matter.
It was a profound book that is still a favorite of Ashton's, and still sits on his book shelf. He takes it out to read every once in a while, every time he feels like he's slipping too far away from humanity.
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babyinablender · 3 months
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Hmmmm, so much I need to do. But I can't seem to move from the glass. Ah, my face looks like someone new. Not the first time I've felt like this. Sometimes believe I'm a separate consciousness that took possession of an empty vessel. And I know I can't be the only one who thinks they may have stolen someone else's life. I feel like a parasite biting my own neck; each vertebrae that pops is just an idle and lazy threat. I've done worse before and yet, and yet...
Am I a cockroach or a pet?
Am I a cockroach or a pet ?
And why haven't I scuttled to my throne, deep beneath the bed where wistful serpents tell me stories that are so old they could only be true? Ah, life's curse is always the sun and how unforgiving your love could be for someone who took it all and run, run, run.
And now this song is done.
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askglassanon · 10 months
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28*
*After a few hour the Nameless lift her up to the bucket when she starts coughing*
Mama.. Dad.. I'm sorry.. *She heaves into the bucket*
*The Posse purr in comfort*
It hurts..
*Glass hiccups, sobbing again* - Glass
// @tinydancerandthemoonchild
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hey can y'all send me viggo related asks for a bit? cuz idk if I'm dissociating or what but I don't feel like im me rn, i feel like when i look up ill be in a different place, i don't feel connected to reality like my perception of the world has changed and i need to re-ground myself via hyperfixation
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barbiediaz · 1 year
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EVERY SINGLE THING I TOUCH BECOMES SICK [2.2k| emotional hurt comfort | established relationship] tw: dissociation, mentions of canon near drowning and suicide attempts, panic and anxiety attack, self harm companion to WE'VE BEEN LIVING ON A FAULT LINE {ao3}
Title from Bigger Than the Whole Sky by Taylor Swift. I do recommend reading we've been living on a fault line first if you haven't already :) I thought i was done with this universe but then @theladyyavilee made this post and it made me think too much and then this happened, it took me a long time to get the end right but i think i got it and who knows there might be a part three in me 😅 anywho happy reading! :P
We have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. ~ JFK
He’s in the shower of all places when it happens. It’s been a few weeks since the night on the pier. He and Christopher had a successful outing, coming back to the house exhausted but with a large teddy bear, and photo booth strips in hand.And it had been good, one of their best outings in a while. It was that same night that Eddie kissed him in the kitchen, smiling and soft like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He had talked about it all with Dr. Copeland. He knows that healing isn’t linear. He knows that just because he had one good day, one of the best of his life, doesn’t mean that the roller coaster was over. But he is still frustrated by the thought that floats through his head as the water falls around him, hitting his sore muscles.
Everything you love will betray you. Even water. Everyone important to you has nearly drowned.
He tips his face up into the spray, letting the water cover his face until he can’t breathe.
His body tips forward and forces him to again with spluttering coughs that wrack his body. And that’s how he finds himself, sobs wracking his body as he sits in the shower, the hot water continuing to relentlessly pelt his skin. He doesn’t even know if there are actually tears in that mix, but he does know that if he could move, he would get out of here. But he feels paralyzed, because it also feels good to feel something, anything, other than the hollowed out feeling that he had left the station with that morning.
It had been a kid in a pool. Not unlike a call they had before. Before he had even known Abby existed- a time when he had wondered if he would ever hear Maddie’s voice again, let alone hold her in his arms, hold her daughter in his arms. A time when being known and being loved for all of who he was was a distant dream and all that he yearned for in the quiet moments he had alone. A time when no one he knew would’ve thought of him ever becoming a father figure to anyone.
Maddie had been the one to take the call, and knowing that Chimney was busy treating them, she had texted Buck to make sure the call had ended on a hopeful note. He had called her as he waited for Eddie to shower, her worried voice telling him how she had texted Mrs. Lee for a picture of Jee after, and him reassuring her that it was a reasonable thing to ask after such a call. She had asked him if he was okay too, he had just said that he was tired after the long shift and was ready for bed.
Eddie had watched him carefully through the call. And pressed his leg into his on the ride back to the station. Their drive home had been silent. Eddie eyeing him from the passenger seat, waiting for Buck to say anything. But there hadn’t been anything to say. His conscious working overtime to silence the racing thoughts so they could make it home safely. And then it had lost the battle as he stood under the spray, trying to rid himself of the weight.
He isn’t sure how long he has been in the shower, but the water turns colder, and he still can’t make himself move.
“Buck?” he hears distantly, drowned out by the drops of water relentlessly pelting the side of the glass and porcelain, “Are you okay?”
A few moments pass, then,
“Buck, I’m gonna come in okay?” There's a pause as he guesses Eddie tries to open the door, “I gotta um break down the door.”
And then everything fuzzes out again, the white noise of the water hitting the tub filling his ears.
The water finally stops, and his sobs are echoing off the tiled walls, and he wants the noise to stop, because it’s all too loud, but he can’t make it stop.
“Buck,” his voice is so gentle it almost hurts.
“I’m sorry,” is all he can choke out, it comes out garbled by sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, no, you have nothing to be sorry for Buck. Can I get you a towel?”
He nods slowly.
The soft fluffy towel is placed around his shoulders with such care he almost flinches away.
“I want to get you out of the tub okay?” Eddie asks rhetorically, “Is it okay if I help you?”
He nods again somehow.
And he wishes he could help as Eddie lifts him, slotting his arms under his and getting him into a seated position on the edge of the tub. Another towel cushioning the seat that gets wrapped around his waist.
“Hold onto me while I get your legs.”
Now that he can do. Hold onto Eddie like an anchor, he forgot there was a time where he couldn’t.
Once his feet are somewhat planted on the ground, Eddie kneeling in front of him, Eddie ducks his head to catch his eye, finally.
“I got you,” is all he has to say, “And I love you.”
That evidently is the wrong thing to say as Buck’s face crumples and he shakes his head.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie replies gently. He swallows and then takes Buck’s arms and places them on his shoulders. He stands bringing Buck up with him.
They make their way to the bedroom, and Eddie finds some soft sweatpants and a shirt. Buck shakes his head as he moves to put the shirt on him.
“I can do it,” his voice is a whisper.
Eddie nods and reluctantly leaves the room.
Buck stares down at the soft t shirt in his hands, there’s a small hole between the collar and the shirt, another one by the sleeve. He stares down at the drab green color and clutches it tighter. Because it was literally drab green, and his breath hitches. He was never sure if Eddie still had anything except for the medal that was deep in a box in his closet. Clearly relegated to a last resort chore day shirt but nonetheless he still had it. And now it’s in Buck’s hands.
But it’s soft and it smells like Eddie, despite everything that the anxiety was screaming, the comfort that brought him had transcended everything that was on the surface and burrowed itself into a home right next to his heart. So he slips it over his head. He puts on the boxers, sweatpants, and socks. And then doesn’t know what to do next. So he sits, tangling his fingers, worrying at his lip, on the edge of tears, but there aren’t any left.
He watches a few minutes tick by on the relatively new alarm clock that sits on Eddie’s night stand.
There’s a light knock on the door, and then Eddie walks in with a glass of water. His shirt sleeve is still wet from where presumably he reached into the shower to turn off the water. He sets the glass down on the nightstand and then sits on the bed next to Buck, pressing his shoulder into his.
“Hey, how we doing?” he asks after a moment.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Th-The door, your wet shirt sleeve.”
“Buck, water dries, it is not the end of the world. And as for the door? We know how to fix that,” he says it lightly and genuinely, and he brushes their shoulders together.
And Buck smiles a little.
“Now, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
He tangles his hands in his lap before taking a deep breath, “Did Maddie ever tell you what her final straw was, why she left?”
Eddie furrows his brow, he and Maddie had started getting closer on his visits to dispatch for lunch with Linda on the days she was working and he had off. He and Maddie had also started getting coffee on days when their therapy appointments converged, her therapist in the same office as Frank.
“Nothing specific,” he replies.
“Well, uh, she was giving Jee a bath during the blackout, and she had been awake for a long time, and she nodded off for a second and Jee slipped under for like a second. That’s what made her really think she wasn’t safe with her. And when she tried, she walked into the ocean. And you and the well. And Chris and the tsunami,” he loses the ability to really be articulate about it as he verbalizes each one.
Eddie takes a deep breath as each puzzle piece floats into place.
“Buck, all of that is just a horrible horrible coincidence,” he says carefully, a hand drifting to Buck’s thigh.
“But what if it isn’t? What if-” his eyes are watering again somehow as he looks toward Eddie.
“No. Loving you could never be a curse. Being loved by you is a gift.” Eddie takes a breath and moves to the floor in front of Buck, “I know I can’t fix this in a day, and not by myself. But I want you to know that I love you. And none of those things have ever and will never be your fault. And you don’t have to believe me, but you trust me, know that I wouldn’t lie about that.”
Buck nods hesitantly.
It’s quiet for a moment, their foreheads resting against each other.
“You know one of the reasons I moved here was the ocean?” he pauses, “Yeah I think it’s about as far as I can get from Hershey without leaving the contiguous states, but there was always something about the Pacific. The Atlantic is 200 miles from where I grew up but I chased the Pacific. One of the first days I lived here I just drove to the beach and sat on the sand for hours looking out over it and I finally felt like I was where I was supposed to be. Hadn’t even started the academy, didn’t know the 118 was out there but something told me I belonged here. And it was the ocean that told me that. And I loved her, and she almost took two of you, so I don’t know. It just feels like some fucking cosmic joke.” He laughs wetly.
“I don’t feel like I should still be drawn there, but I am. Going to the pier with Chris was one of the best days, it feels wrong that it’s also one of the worst.”
“You don’t have to stop loving something because it hurt you or the people you love. And especially not the ocean of all things, an ocean that is known for being a rough force not to be reckoned with. You faced it, and defeated it- You did, Chris did, and Maddie did. And that fact puts me in awe of all three of you, Buck. Being able to face it again, let alone make new happy memories with it is incredible.” he paused contemplating his next words and letting the previous ones settle, “Did you ever feel like that after the truck?”
Buck shakes his head and furrows his brow.
“You were able to get back in that truck because you love your job, the love is greater than the thing that hurt you, and it sounds like the ocean is another one of those things that you hold so important in your heart. You don’t give up, especially when it’s the people you care about. That’s what makes loving and being loved by you a blessing, Buck. One minuscule part of it anyway.”
Buck swallows the lump in his throat, and he nods.
“And I need you to hear me when I tell you that I love you, all of you. Even the parts you don’t love. I love them enough for the both of us, until you can, however long that takes. Just like you did for me.”
“I nev-I di-” Buck starts, his brow still slightly crinkled.
Eddie just shakes his head and holds Buck’s face in his hand, “You didn’t have to, I knew, in hindsight I knew. And I will always be grateful that you were able to do that for me, so let me take my turn.”
There’s a still moment of silence as the softness returns to Buck’s shoulders as if he is letting go of the weight. It’s shattered by the shaky audible breath that Buck let’s go of as he bends forward finally leaning his full weight into Eddie.
Eddie moves back to sitting next to Buck on the bed, never letting go.
They sit like that for a while, just existing together.
“I think I’ve had enough time. I don’t want to talk about it now because I want you fully here with me. But this is me telling you that I’m ready when you are,and we will figure out the best way together okay?”
Buck nods, “Thank you.” he says just above a whisper. And the silence returns, comfortable and inviting as they breathe together.
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normaltothemax · 2 months
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Dissociation starters “Sometimes I just … do this. It’s fine.” [bucky's having a bad day clint >>;]
Well. This certainly isn’t what he’d expected when he’d entered Bucky’s apartment. Bucky just sort of…sitting there. Staring at the wall, totally and completely spaced out. Clint’s not entirely sure how to deal with that.
Only a little cautiously—he doesn’t want to startle Bucky if he’s actually the Soldier right now—he makes his way over. Gives Alpine a little scratch behind the ears as he walks past her, lounging up on the cat tree Clint got for her (so she can be up high, cats love that shit). He crouches in front of Bucky, waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey, Buck, you good?”
Bucky’s giving slow, slow blinks, and there’s the tiniest spark of recognition in his eyes as they try to focus on Clint—definitely a good sign. When he speaks, it’s quietly, haltingly.
“Sometimes I just…do this. It’s fine.”
And just like that, he’s gone again.
Right. Okay. Uh.
Clint purses his lips as he considers his options. He’s not sure if trying to snap Bucky out of it is a great idea, so let him ride it out? If whatever this is goes on for too long, he can always call Steve or Bruce, get another opinion. He nods to himself, gives one of Bucky’s hands a squeeze. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
It’s a quick trip to his apartment—straight there and back again. Then, he’s settling on the couch with Bucky, throwing his legs across the other man’s lap, and cracking open the book he’d just retrieved. This way, he can keep an eye on Bucky without staring at him the whole time. And who knows, maybe that bit of contact will be, like, grounding or something.
@dramatisperscnae (x)
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