#absolutely needs a trigger warning

[traumafactory28]

The slow, eye widening realization that you are about to relapse. The tears threaten to flow down your face, begging you to close your eyes so as not to traumatize yourself with the sight of your own making. Your hand reaches for your addiction as you no longer have control of yourself. You beg your brain to stop and how it will hurt so many people around. But it won't listen. That organ buzzes with toxic electricity that no amount of shock therapy can fix, begging for some kind of refuge from its own pain. It won't stop screaming, and you need it to shut up. You know how to stop it temporarily, but never for long. You tear away from yourself in hopes of making that hole in your chest a great plain rather than a gorged valley of blood. You're willing to do anything but distraught with your options. You feel cornered and trapped as you start. Just one would be fine. An escape from this drowning hole. That's all I need. Please let it be all I need. But now you're dissociating and can feel the pain. You aren't supposed to feel pain, so you lean in deeper into yourself until you forget how many you did and find yourself on the bathroom floor. Eyes stained with the memory of what you have done as you stare shell-shocked of your own making. You can't think. You finally feel your mind go blank from screams. Your mind is silent and frozen in terror, but it's just that. Silent. You hate the feeling of being afraid, but you were willing to do anything to make it stop. I smile as I watch myself slowly paint the floor. Roses with each drop and its roots embedded in me. A garden of which I pruned of its flowers, for this soil has no more nutrients to sustain the life it desperately wanted. I laugh as my garden grows all over my floor, edging on mania as I weep in relief of the delusion and distance I have given myself from my former reality. I fall into my garden and finally close my eyes. A happy ending no one would see coming. Happy endings belong only to the suicidal because in the end, we are all going to die. How dare anyone take this away from me.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[marypsue]

I'm gonna say this as a genuine fan of animation and somebody who has been squeeing about ATSV's behind-the-scenes ever since the team started tweeting about how they did it: every single person who said that movie needed a photosensitivity warning was Not Kidding and it's honestly negligent that it didn't have one. I get like one migraine per decade and I had to take a preemptive tylenol as soon as I got back from the theatre because I could already feel one coming on. Thankfully that seemed to take care of it, but if I hadn't known before I went to the movie that it was going to be that much fast, bright, flashing, high-contrast everything for so much of the movie, if I hadn't realised what was going on and been able to medicate for it or I happened to be more sensitive to migraines than I am and hadn't known I'd have to skip this movie, I would've been out of commission for a day or more. And I'm not even epileptic.

[felsdumpsterfire]

Not me looking for refs of the monsters in Fear and Hunger just to he hit with this thing

Was genuinely flabbergasted- terrified even, like, what the FUCK are you doing, big bro Night Lurch *read: terrified*

[yaboy-miz]

It’s always a funny feeling when you’re just vibing and a joint pops so loud that it echoes

Or when you stand up and crack your back only to realize that you’ve partially dislocated your hip and cracking your back put it back into place

That second one may sound extremely specific but I’ll be honest this is a regular occurrence for me to the point where if my hip feels weird I’ll stand up and move as if to crack my back to make sure my hip is in place

[aetherose]

Though her existence being literally on the line between life and death as a result of her having never been supposed to live after the fall of Lorelai's facility offers her an advantage in certain situations, it should be noted it's not all good. Sometimes it feels more like a curse because Radiata's perception of reality can sometimes be muddled, as she may struggle to tell what is real and what is a leftover of the dead. She is tormented at times by the whispers of her dead fellow test subjects, and the feelings the dead leave behind aren't always pleasant.

The City is a placed drenched in death, and so it can be at times overwhelming for Radiata to deal with. She is alive and at the same time a vessel for the dead as much as she never asked to be, having ended up here only because she saw for herself no future after everything Lorelai did to her. Now she carries with her the deceased just as much as she tries to live on, and she carries this burden all by herself for she refuses to tell anyone the truth of what's going on with her, and it leads some to think she might be going crazy or that she already is, and in fairness, maybe she has.

When this ability initially manifested for Radiata, she had indeed thought she'd gone crazy. But she grew to realize she wasn't crazy, and eventually realized all the things she saw, all that she heard, all that she felt...it was all real. It was the remnants those who've passed left and she was the only one who could gleam all of it. Higanbana is the only one she ever told of this, and although the former Director couldn't do much for her, she eased the burden through listening to Radiata convey everything.

Now, there is nobody who knows of the burden Radiata bears, and she struggles to deal with it, struggles to live her life whilst the weight of the dead is on her shoulders. Her existence already is lacking in true meaning and purpose, Lorelai's death being the only mission Radiata has and in the end, is that fully her own goal or is it also left to her by the dead? Or maybe it is both at the same time.

And in the end, even if that is the case, her life still means so little. The void within her continues to grow. She continues feeling nothing as her perception of reality too is messy and she copes through hedonism and her mission she's had since the moment she came to the City: killing Lorelai. As for what happens afterward...she evades answering that question no matter how hard you press her.

Edit: Though Radiata still has terrible time because of this ability, it should further be noted that it's not always active. Powerful emotions left behind by the dead or otherwise just very determined bygone spirits are usually required, albeit certain places have the veil between life and death be thinner and therefore allows the dead to more easily be felt / heard / seen than others. Though when this ability does activate it can sometimes be overwhelming still depending on certain factors.

[divinequo]

Ayyy so I did something a while back...

https://www.wattpad.com/story/331617263?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Drew556&wp_originator=zItMapj4hmBP9aaSfEOK9s8qIY50ocRngu4aVw%2BhqhmAUDEkbGvPBydfn8VbZRs0OpZtkeryew2da1keD%2F1c4UYKjBuwVHGzZnTnIphFtlpwjgwD7fMLqcc03IXs14af

Fair warning this is mostly oc x canon because I like to control everything lol also there's a bit of foul language, nothing I can't reclaim though, have fun reading id you do lol<3

[future-crab]

requesting a rant about that sweeney todd song 👀

Ooh thank you!

So. Johanna Quartet (which I spelled wrong in my post. Sorry, Johanna.) and why it slaps.

The first thing that deserves a mention is that it’s just absolutely beautiful. I don’t know anything about music theory, so I won’t try to break that element down, but if you haven’t, I’d really recommend giving it a listen. The 2023 revival cast version is excellent imo.

The part I mainly want to talk about is Sweeney’s verses, cause I think they’re really interesting. It’s (arguably) the most introspective we ever see him in the show, and it is (arguably) both the point in the tragedy when it becomes clear that it’s too late for things to turn out well, and the false high where it seems like things might work out.

Like, the beginning of the song makes it pretty clear that at this point, he has become the person he most hates. With his possessiveness over Johanna (“my little lamb, my pet” and all that) and the incestuous overtones in lines like, “And are you beautiful and pale, with yellow hair, like her? I’d want you beautiful and pale, the way I dreamed you were, Johanna” it’s laid bare for the audience that there is no difference, really, between him and Judge Turpin anymore. They both just want to own this woman, because she’s beautiful and reminds them of her mother.

But then the last couple verses come in, and we’re given a tantalizing glimpse at the possibility of character growth with lines like, “And though I’ll think of you I guess until the day I die, I think I miss you less and less as every day goes by, Johanna.” From the second he walked onstage, he’s been single-minded in his focus on his grief and revenge, but in this incongruously honest moment, he’s admitting that he could move on.

And then! And then!!! For (to my memory) the first and only time in the show, he actually acknowledges that his fantasy of getting Johanna back is flawed. Like, earlier he doubted that it would happen (“And I’ll never see Johanna, no I’ll never hug my girl to me,” “I think we shall not meet again, my little dove, my sweet Johanna,” etc) but this is the first time he acknowledges that if it did, it wouldn’t make him happy. “And you’d be beautiful and pale, and look too much like her.” Getting Johanna back would just remind him of everything else he’s lost. There is no going back.

And his last line in the song encapsulates this contradiction – “Wake up, Johanna, another bright red day. We learn, Johanna, to say goodbye.” On the surface it seems like more character growth – he’s going to learn to let go of the past! – but the fact that he can’t help but address this statement to Johanna is a sign that he’s still too deep in his obsession. You get the sense, even at this point where he’s the closest he’s ever gotten acknowledging his fatal flaw, that it’s far too late.

Also probably worth mentioning that the entire time he’s going through all this introspection, he’s just. Slitting people’s throats. Just the whole time.

[sofipitch]

Very annoyed at how functionally useless the storygraph content warnings are. I was gonna make up a silly example but actually just look at the content warnings for The Lightning Thief, a middle grade adventure book

None of these are graphic because this is a book intended for kids be real

[diseaseriddencube]

i keep going back to read sparklecare thinking i'll like it but i just...don't

maybe i'm silly but it feels very flat? I still have no real grasp on the characters or attachment to them, I have vague ideas of a few of their main traits but not much else. I'm aware the entire comic is basically vent art, it does just read like a child's fanfic though..not to be insulting to fanfiction, but it does have a certain style or writing or joking to it. I don't dislike it either, but the writing and characters just don't vibe with me, i don't have the words to adequately explain why though

[ceylonsilvergirl]

Excoriation tw, ocd tw, dermatillomania tw, depression tw

I’ve been pretty kind to myself about my excoriation/dermatillomania. It’s not like I want to be doing it, I’m in consultation with my therapist, psychiatrist and my general practitioner about it, I’ve been taking cbt classes for it, bought fidget toys to distract myself with, and am taking a couple different medications to help manage my feelings that lead to it…

But the nurses’s distress at seeing the extent of it broke my heart. I know it’s bad. No, it’s not bug bites. No it’s not allergies. No, it’s not a virus or a drug reaction. It’s clear to see my self-inflicted wounds are only in places I can easily reach. But I do know how extensive it is.

I’ve just been trying to keep myself alive the last few years. I’m doing much better than I used to, but I know without a doubt that my route to healing is longer and more complex than I would have hoped.

I think I buried my shame, and now it’s time to address it.

[ditaliaa]

They’re sending out Mormon bots now???

[thelostsisters]

i really wonder if they’re going to change sam and henry’s ending now, bc as good of a choice as it was not to have bill suffering in the aftermath of frank’s death like he did in the game, i feel like having two episodes back to back that end with a character choosing to take their life after losing the one person they love would be… a lot

[cidnangarlond]

film: the poughkeepsie tapes

never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

Google how do I say "I liked this movie a lot because it was incredibly unique and interesting but don't want to say I loved it because it's pretty disturbing but I do find it fascinating." I watched this in high school after my creative writing club advisor was like do NOT watch this movie it's super disturbing so I was probably around 16 or so? and I watched it anyway because there's something wrong with me. and she was right that shit WAS disturbing! but I can't really name any other found footage/mockumentary horror that is about a serial killer documenting their crimes (underutilized plot in that aspect) (also there's Leslie Vernon but that's slightly different a bit) and then the mockumentary part of searching for him and what comes after. okay live reaction of me finding out the director also did the Rec remake, Quarantine, BUT ALSO Devil and As Above, So Below. how did I never put these together EVER. AND his brother in law is author Stephen Chbosky of Perks of Being a Wallflower fame?? mental. this guy knows how to make a movie

[hellothepixel]

I know someone for whom circuses are a trigger (i don't know if clowns exactly). Even when I was playing a mario game with their sibling, the sibling warned them so they had to look away. And I don't know the exact details, I won't lie. Maybe it's not that serious in their case.

But like. That was on my mind when I saw that fucking clown this morning.

[tebbydear-movedblogs]

I know this is not at all a new take but by god those ppl who put "trigger warning!" at the beginning of their tiktoks or w/e GIRLIE FOR WHAT!! warning for what!!! Gore ?? Flashing lights ?? Transmisogyny??? Spiders???