#is horrifically painful in a way that I cannot describe

[indiestsnake]

okay. for real this time. Major In Stars and Time spoilers for act 3 and beyond. To my wonderful friends playing this masterpiece, to no further. To potential readers, buckle up. This gets long ._.

I thought this game was done with causing me symptoms of emotional exhaustion and stress overload. I was wrong.

Acts 5 and 6 of this game caused the most emotion a video game has ever inflicted on me. Like- the tightness in my chest was an emotion I can only describe as grief. Genuine grief. I felt like I needed to sob for most of act six, for multiple reasons.

Let’s start at the fuckin transition I guess!!!!!!!!!! Siffrin finally thinks they figured it out, and they haven’t. The genuine fear I felt in the cutscene with Euphrasie, the realization that… that this was it, Siffrin was simply stuck. I believed it. I could not find a way to break my suspension of disbelief. I fully, genuinely could not believe that this game had a happy ending. I did not know this game only had one ending, but even if I did, it… I don’t think it would’ve done anything.

The following monologue was the usual terrifying, the game using its informal dialogue to reap horrific subversive effects as usual. Of course it saved some tricks for this moment, like taking away control of when the dialogue progressed. Watching Siffrin snap so thoroughly, lose all his hope and cling to the thought of defeating the king alone because he doesn’t know what else to do, it… it really breaks you.

So. Now that the game has maximized my potential sympathy for Siffrin. And torn my empathetic heart to shreds. It immediately turns on a heel and makes me hate them within three conversations. The things they say to Mira, Odile, Bonnie, Isa, made me so thoroughly angry. I would not blame Odile for actually harming him. I would not blame Mira if she never spoke to him again. I would not blame Bonnie for never wanting to even think about him again. And I would not blame Isa if he no longer loved Siffrin.

I am a person who believes in redemption. In second chances. The readers of my fics know this well. But sadly, actions have to have consequences. And the actions Siffrin takes should have lost him his friends, his family, forever. Even in his circumstances. They had no reason to keep caring.

So then, reeling from the genuine sense of loss and grief and hate and despair, Siffrin nicks the orbs and goes in alone. Through about, what, 20-30 minutes of gameplay, this tension persists. The game didn’t even need to barrage me with monologues, just show those conversations of the family Siffrin left, tear apart the house and the menus and the game till it was barely recognizable. Siffrin. The Lost One, says his profile. Memory of emptiness. Rock, paper, scissors. It’s so dry. So dull. So full of despair and pain and fear and a question of what he could ever do to deserve this hell. He can’t go back. He cannot find the hope or will or anything to go through with it, to follow the script. So even if this does break the loop. What then? He is left with a world where the people he loves most despise him.

Then finally, he reaches the king.

The fight is almost dull. Simplistic. Full of pain. Siffrin does not need a shield to withstand the vision of the future. Because the world they live in cannot get any worse. Nothing scares him more than the hell he now exists in.

Then, he begins to freeze. The king slows him down. And he falls asleep.

The following sequence was just… indescribable. The sadness variant of him, Mal du Pays. French for “homesickness”. Just a simple drawing of Siffrin. The music. The dialogue. The words that come from its mouth. From the party’s mouths. Siffrin tries to say it’s fake. Isabeau’s segment convinces him it’s not.

I didn’t even realize what was happening till it flashed forward and gripped the screen by the face.

He was turning into a sadness.

The frame of his sadness gripping the screen, like many of ISAT’s frames, is something I can’t manage to forget. The cloak and the face and the way it fills the screen so suddenly and finally speaks as itself, not as Siffrin’s party. And he can’t fight it. They just can’t. The universe leads, but he is tired. And now, he can rest. If he just lets go.

In that moment, I was staring at a black screen, begging, pleading for the credits not to roll.

And then he wakes up.

Because his friends are back.

Despite what he said and did, they knew he didn’t mean it. And if he did, they didn’t care. It was clear something was wrong, and they were determined to fix it. Because they were his friends.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a game manage to convey self-hatred so convincingly that I, the player, began to hate my character in a way their friends could not. In fact, I was not aware that was a thing that could happen.

I don’t even know how to express the feelings this give me coherently. It feels like this game snatched away one of my closest moral beliefs only to clothesline me with said belief so I learned it even harder. What Siffrin did was not unforgivable. But it truly convinced me that it was.

So of that when all hope seemed truly, truly lost. It pulled the basic trope of “your friends come help when you thought you were alone”. And it nearly knocked me out of my chair.

First off, get fucked king. Second off, happy for you king.

And then the walk to Euphrasie. I was mixed with giddy glee and unending dread for this whole thing. Isa helps Sif walk while Bonnie holds their hand. Color exists again but only red and oh god the world is ending. Euphrasie is still broken oh god please no don’t send me back don’t take this from me please no no no no WAM REVERSE BOSS FIGHT

Cue that scene. I wasn’t exactly happy that my only option aside from hurting my friends was hurting myself. But it did not take long for me to start groaning in annoyance when Mira healed me.

And then. Against all odds. Siffrin breaks. As does the text formatting as the party literally claws at the text box edges to yell at him.

They fall. Hands clasped together. And he tells them his wish. That he just wants to stay with them.

Of course. That’s all he ever wanted.

And oh god, oh thank every deity, that’s all they want too.

And he finally gets a god-damn motherfucking son of a bitch eye-losing tear-jerking MOTHER FUCKING HUG

and damn it was a good one. poor guy was all squimshed. lost his hat too

the rest of the dialogue is just. amazing. I was gigging and smiling and shaking and vibrating with joy before I even finished Mirabelle’s segment. Walking to Bonnie was when I realized it felt like I wanted to cry. During Bonnie’s dialogue was when I almost did cry. Then Odile. Who I obviously asked for the long version of her theory and she was very helpful for explaining all the stuff. and then.

Isabeau.

oh. my. fucking. god.

the joy I felt when he said it. The leap I leapt, ungracefully dancing over to my bed and mouthing screams of joy. I genuinely just collapsed and writhed around like a fish out of water in happiness. You know how some folk flap their hands to stim? Yeah, imagine that but my whole body. I was so unbelievably happy. I don’t know how a game did this much to me.

The rest of the dialogue was wonderful too. Sif apologized for everything, even the optional events, even admitted the bad touch event. And of course. Isa freaked the fuck out. Because oh my god Sif kissed him. And then when Sif clarifies that it was not a good kiss. He just thinks for a moment like. “…………. Maybe u just need more practice!!! ^^” and it was at that point Siffrin and Isabeau plushies manifested in my hands and I mashed their faces together like barbie dolls

Mira doesn’t want self-spoilers and thats hilarious. Bonnie has no fucken clue what’s going on but she knows Sif was hungry sick and at school so all is well. Odile admits she linguine’s him and yes I fucking love that joke. SIF’S HOME COUNTRY MIFHT APPEAR IN THE DISTANCE????? AND ISA AND SIF ARE GOING ON A FUCKING DATE

and it was at this point I saved my progress, crossed my heart, and prayed Euphrasie would not send me back.

And she didn’t.

oh, god, this game…

welp. this post is two hours in the making. dunno if any of this is coherent but I think if you’ve played isat you get it. thank you to everyone who’s been blowing up my liveposts recently!!! it’s been cool to see the fandom giggle evilly at my suffering :3

tho my contributions to the Isat fandom do not end here. the fic is imminent. I could not stop it if I wanted too. If you couldn’t tell by the essay you just read.

thank you for reading this far if you somehow did!!!! hope you enjoyed my nonsensical babbling. I’m gonna go pass out. have a good day!!!!!!! .3

[foursaints]

regarding your post about people feeling uncomfortable with reading certain topics i think its quite the opposite of them not realizing its not a material reality. it actually feels too close to home, a bit too real (considering we hear and read about cases every day) and you are aware that it happen to you everyday so it makes you feel uncomfortable to think about. on the other hand topics like murder, war crimes, etc. most people are alienated from them feeling safe that it wont happen to them (now thats a thing that happens only in stories) and reading about doesn't spark the same type of panic.

but also even if that wasn't the case.. what do you think its supposed to happen when somone is uncomfortable? just keep reading, shoving discomfort down their throat because of other people? Yes i understand that there are victims who have survived it and i will try my best to accommodate them and treat them in the way they want to and i will even swallow my discomfort down and read about the experience but that wont change anything. i will still be afraid of the possibility that will happen to me, i will still squirm when i hear about another case and then try to avoid in the places where i go to enjoy myself (like ao3)

also in terms of victims i imagine that as much as there are some who would like to read and write about their experience there are other who would want to distance themselves from the memory. Isn't it just preference at the end of day. why do people must be guilt tripped to to read something they dont want to.

😭 this is of the most braindead annoying messages i’ve ever received on here i’m actually almost impressed. fucking obviously i am not suggesting that CSA victims read triggering material on purpose that would be insane (💀). but my post wasn’t about victims! i was in fact complaining about emptyhead non-survivors who say things precisely like this!

1. describing murder and war crimes as literally “now that’s something that only happens in stories!” is such a glaring indictment of your worldview… these things are realities for everyone living outside of the imperial core. even within the west, if you’re a transwoman of color, if you’re a DV victim, an addict, an unhoused person, or poc and interacting with police– you are not alienated from extreme violence! it’s very real & present experience! for you to say that reading about systematized violence is “safer” because it’s “less real” especially when we are in the middle of a genocide is literally stomach churning 😭. you should go donate to winter relief for gaza and never speak up again

2. not everything is about you! perhaps this is harsh but i do believe that if you haven’t experienced csa/sa (or been close to the issue), then reading about it cannot be “triggering” to you in the same way it would be for, say, someone with actual csa ptsd. you might feel uncomfortable, but you are not in danger of having a trauma response. sensitivity is beautiful, but i think in moments like these you could stand to be a little bit braver, and a little bit more sturdy. nothing fictional can hurt you. feeling discomfort and fear at the contents of a story is not the same as real pain- it is healthy to practice experiencing these emotions through the safe medium of fiction.

so much of this ask is painfully egotistic… but in a naive, almost endearing sort of way? you dismiss others experiences with the wave of a hand: “yes victims but what about my SQUIRMING”, “but what about the mere possibility it might happen to ME”! i want to remind you that i am a csa survivor complaining about the difficulty of discussing these subjects with non-survivors, and you are a non-survivor inserting yourself into this space to ask “what about MY discomfort?”…. well! terrible, violent, undoingly horrific events happen every day! it is not helpful to act like victims of SA are somehow uniquely traumatized in some special, singularly awful way. no “type” of trauma is inherently worse than any another. people survive and recover from all kinds of experiences, and i find this beautiful & empowering, and frequently the subject of great art. it is worth confronting your own personal discomfort (💀) with that art in order to sit with and face the lived reality of those experiences. doing so will help you develop a more complex and empathetic worldview.

not everything is about you! 🙂‍↕️ the imagined possibility of your own pain should not be worth more to you than the lived reality of someone else’s. this ask was exhausting let’s all read averno by louise gluck to calm down

[hero-israel]

I’ve been thinking about this for some time now and I was hesitant to post about it because I don’t want my voice muddying actual protests and testaments from people actually affected because I am not Jewish or Palestinian. And I don’t know if this is the right medium for this remark but I didn’t know where else to put it.

But as someone from South Africa, who grew up listening to first hand accounts of people, black and white, who lived through Apartheid, as someone who had to learn the horrific history of Apartheid and how sick and twisted that regime was. And even then I cannot claim to be an expert because even my school didn’t teach us every detail (which is sad because while it’s painful, it’s part of history and we must learn about it to never repeat it).

But knowing what I do know about Apartheid and seeing the after effects of it where I live… it really disturbs me to see the word Apartheid thrown around so carelessly to describe Israel. It’s not only untrue but trying to apply to Israel what the white minority government did in South Africa to harm and have power over people of colour in every aspect of life, feels like it only does a massive disservice to actual Apartheid victims. Real people were killed and tortured and suppressed in terms of marriage, to where they could live, who they could love, what they could learn in schools, having the right to vote, having curfews and time restrictions or else risk persecution and brutality…. It just leaves me speechless that people so easily want to wash away the real tragedy of Apartheid because it’s a big sounding buzzword. Calling Israel an Apartheid state, in my mind, does nothing except invalidate the real victims of that horrific regime and it makes me sick.

I’m sorry for ranting like that but I just cannot wrap my head around it at all. It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the Apartheid regime and Israel’s government are in no way the same.

This is an extremely important perspective, and it would be a great help if you would be willing to share it openly.

There have been many voices from South Africa rejecting the "apartheid" comparison. It is important to show would-be activists that they are appropriating and disrespecting other peoples' suffering.

[paranormal-taters]

I feel like I've learned some new things about sensory processing disorder and how it manifests in me specifically recently. I don't see many people talk about the auditory aspect of SPD very often, but I think in my adult life it's the part that affects me the most. I'm very sensitive to sound and I had an experience this weekend that really made me think about it.

One of the smoke detectors in my house needed its batteries replaced, which wasn't something I'd ever done before. While I was figuring out how to dismount it from the ceiling to access the battery compartment, I accidentally triggered the TEST button and it started going off. Only for three extended beeps, but it was piercingly, painfully loud (as smoke detectors tend to be), and I was right next to it. It triggered me severely. It caused me a significant amount of pain and internal panic, and my body was stuck in fight-or-flight for quite a while afterwards.

This has happened many times in my life, being triggered by unexpected loud sounds. I feel like every other aspect of SPD has evened out to some degree from childhood to adulthood for me, but the auditory side is still horrifically sensitive (though to be fair, as a kid I was terrified of flushing toilets because they hurt my ears. I've thankfully grown past that now).

Even beyond the pain and panic of triggers, I feel like the most frustrating part of auditory SPD is that people who aren't hypersensitive often don't take it seriously. They can't fathom everyday sounds causing pain for me. And it's such a unique and specific kind of pain that it's really hard to describe, which furthers people's assumptions that I'm making it up. The best way I can describe it is that it's a pain that takes out all of my other senses and my ability to think immediately. My vision goes blurry and I literally cannot form a coherent thought besides "GET AWAY" to save my life.

[the-nysh]

One of the biggest shocks from reading Trimax vol5 for the first time, after coming in from the 98anime, was the horrific contrast between Vash's destruction of July.

98 anime: the city was destroyed, but miraculously no one was killed. Resulting in a hellish aftermath where everyone (1.4mil people) fought and killed each other for survival in the fallout. Which sounds like a hugely unprecedented disaster, but all those subsequent deaths (loss of lives & livelihoods) were an indirect consequence of Vash firing his Angel Arm on Knives.

But in Trimax? :) Oho.......what a difference, where Vash's horrors are taken to the extremes in ways the 98anime could never show!

Cause everyone--ALL those kind people Vash ever knew and loved in that city were killed by his own hands! Swallowed up into the void (his 'gate') as the direct consequence of firing his forced-activated Angel Arm on Knives. (Reacting in a mix of fear, anger, hatred, revenge, or even aimed in cornered self-defense...all to get Knives to stop. At such a terrible cost.) Where everything else became unintended collateral in that moment, like an unleashed black hole tearing right through the city, causing indiscriminate mass destruction with no survivors or even any bodies left to be found. (Even Knives' body was irreparable.) Utterly and completely lost. Just like Vash's memories. Where it's no wonder he developed amnesia from the traumatic incident!! Cause OH does he SUFFER immensely for it once he fully remembers...

Where his life's long-wandering search (his original goal's 'destination') to finally confront and punish Knives for the death of Rem and causing the Great Fall in the first place, only led to another unprecedented catastrophe engulfing everyone he loves in July, but this time caused by himself! Nooooo--!

Flooded by his returning memories, his guilt, grief, despair and torment reach an inhuman degree of self-loathing and agony. (Warping to such a grotesque visual perception of himself within his own mind--cursed to bear this nightmarish reality he cannot escape or part from.) Utterly repentant for the horrific loss of life and monstrous sin against humanity his arm caused--as his greatest mistake he cannot undo, knowing that he's (already) a mass murderer who inherently wields the terrible power of death & destruction he never wanted to unleash or become!!! Not like that! ;o; (Cause just as he told Knives beforehand, "I'm not like you!" and then look what happened! Knives may hate and kill humans, but in the tragic irony and twisted reversal of that moment, Vash acting on his fear and hatred for Knives swept up and killed all those humans he loved along with it! aaaaa!!) And in Vash's distraught state of mind, fully taking the blame and responsibility for what he's done to July, how can he ever hope to atone or find peace or forgiveness for that....

(Cause he knows...he knows, that no matter what he does differently or how he chooses to bear the pain, the weight of all that guilt, that grief, that truth...can never escape him.)

"(I am a murderer)...All those people, those lives I extinguished...they were so kind..."

Significant even when it's described from the perspective of others, like Dr Conrad, who sees Vash having a terrifying power 'greater than anyone's ever seen or possessed' (even greater than Knives!) Zazie sees Knives & Vash as the 'natural enemies of humanity,' and even Midvalley views (them) as a 'higher existence that could will humankind's complete and utter extinction' on biblical scales of calamity...so just imagine holding all that feared power from Vash's perspective, knowing the disastrous extent and severe consequences of it being misused or going out of control again, at the risk of razing the entire world and everyone you love along with it. By naturally being a destroyer (whose very existence is a 'gun') who struggles against that by choosing to be a protector who saves instead! (No wonder Vash tightly binds and suppresses that other side of himself) And just...contending with all of that, and all that he's capable of unleashing, is the inhuman burden and reality Vash is forced to live with....

But even then, if his first confrontation with Knives at July resulted in so many collateral deaths, already breaking his promise to Rem years ago (by inadvertently killing those she sacrificed her life to save, ugh meaning his attempt to keep her memory alive and ensure her sacrifice for humanity wouldn't be in vain had already failed long ago) and his second confrontation led to Fifth Moon, then....what can Vash do the next time? Continue his usual pursuit to stop him and risk unleashing a third calamity?? What must he change in his approach, and what of his ongoing reason to live now?! Cause he can't just continue his 'send Knives to hell' mantra as his sole reason to keep on going anymore, as July already proved how attempting that backfired spectacularly, practically condemning Vash to suffer his own personal hell, intensified to the nth degree in exchange. As usual, even with the many revelations this volume, Vash still doesn't know or have any definitive answers to those questions yet. BUT by progressing the hard way even just from the little things, this becomes his ongoing struggle to figure out...

[failed-inspection]

Dead On Arrival: a Rain World AU

hii hii! I had this AU concept bouncing around in my head for ages, the basic summary can best be described as "What if Spearmaster was friends with Artificer before the events of Arti's campaign?"

Time has passed since The Incident, and Spearmaster Cannot help but blame themself, those angry words of their recipient still haunt their mind, knowing that the message they delivered had caused the death of someone, brougt a slow and painful demise to another, and had burned the bridges between their creator and the one closest to them... They had so much people relying on them, and they failed, they sometimes still visit the surrounding facility areas, maybe as some sort of self inflicted punishment, reopening the wounds of memories, maybe as a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, regardless, during one of these travels, they come across a family of three, a maroon Slugcat and their two pups, at this moment in time, Spear is aware that they're considered an anomaly amongst slug kind (maybe they went to OE at one point as they were traveling), and expected some sort of negative reaction, instead, the other slugcats just seem... curious, not afraid, not disgusted, curious, this in one way or another, this leads to the slugcats interacting, which leads to them hanging out more and more, at one point, becoming relatively close, Arti's pups enjoy playing with Spearmaster despite how unusual they are, and Arti is happy to have a supply on spears whenever it was time to hunt, of course, spear would always return back to Suns, but whenever they visited the facilities, the family would always be happy to see them again.

Eventually, Spearmaster felt comfortable enough with Arti to open up about The Incident, about how they were tasked to deliver a pearl to help their creator's friend, only for things to take a turn for the worst, they ruined their creator's life, their friend lost everything, and they failed to save the one person who needed it most, leading to her death.

Arti doesn't quite understand the loss spearmaster has experienced, since they admit they hasn't faced such a loss like this, but they try to reassure them that things will be fine, they'll be here for them, despite everything, they don't have to grieve alone, one day they talk once again, before Spear goes back to Suns' can, and Arti and their pups go along their very way.

Remember how I mentioned Arti didn't understand the loss? That's because they didn't lose their pups yet.

This is the last time Spearmaster ever sees Arti's pups again, their lives had been later taken in freak incident, when one of them got a little too curious about a golden pearl within the scavenger tolls...

Eventually, time passes, and Spear and Arti see each other again, this isn't a warm, welcoming reunion by any means, as Spear found out about their current murder spree, to add salt to the wound, they also learned about how Pebbles, (who in their eyes, is the very one that lead to the death of Moon and stuff like that, how they feel about pebbles is very complicated and might need it's open in depth look but regardless considering their previous experiences with Pebbles his actions here REALLY don't sit well with them) tasked them with exterminating the scav population in his city, Spear is... rightfully horrifed! This wasn't the slugcat they once knew, the one they considered a friend, they honestly felt pretty betrayed in a sense... maybe Artificer is in the middle of a killing spree as Spearmaster runs into them, maybe they're too blinded by grief so that their attempts to get them to stop, that they don't have to do this... This only makes them see more red, maybe they end up fighting physically, maybe one of them ends up fleeing, whether it be in anger or horror.

Either way, Just like the bonds of the two iterators Spearmaster was made to help in the first place, history repeats itself, and the bridges have burned once again.

because I'm evil, the pearl the pup tried to take is the same pearl that held the instructions for removing the self destruction taboo in this AU <3

[nonbinary-red-supergiant]

I cannot sleep so here I am ranting about why Monika is so tragic and that her realization towards the end of DDLC was absolutely perfect.

To start things off, Monika had ZERO idea about the real world outside of her world until the player joined her game, her world. The whole dating simulator could not have started without player because player was the trigger that activated the game to be set into motion. While everything was set into motion, Monika could have suddenly been hit with an odd feeling, a feeling and presence that she had never sensed before. Hell, she could’ve felt that peculiarity exactly when you download Doki Doki Literature Club. It was that moment that her conflict between herself, her world, and our world began.

So many people hate Monika for what she did to the other club members Sayori, Yuri, and Natsuki. However, in a way this can be justified if we just take a look into Monika’s thought process.

The simplest way to describe Monika’s predicament would be to call it an existential crisis. Once she realizes that the player is different from everything around her as in terms of genuineness, how real player feels compared to everything else around her, she begins to question the events that happened prior. She questions everything, including her closest friends who are presumably her club. She then doubts all the happiness and care and love that the other three girls have shown her all this time. In her eyes, all the work she put into everything she did, from creating the Literature Club, to literally navigating her own person to become the popular athletic lovable girl became… insignificant. And it is detrimental when someone starts to think that everything they’ve worked for has been for nothing. She’s no longer happy, in fact she hates everything around her because it only reminds her of the storm that is thundering inside of her. She sees nothing the same anymore, and now she is desperate for a solution. That solution sparks within her when she realizes that, unlike everything else in her reality, she has power.

Monika decides to use that power to obtain something she has never had before… something real. When the game begins, it clicks in her mind that the player is indeed real unlike her world. Desperate for a sense of true humanity, true love, true happiness, and true purpose, Monika tampers with the game script to make everything go her way. Now these are the horrific, infamous events that occur in DDLC.

Perhaps if Monika were in a better mental state, no one would have been treated so violently. But because of her crisis, she felt hatred towards her entire world. In fact, she could have been the most malicious and emotional towards the girls who she thought were her truest friends because she feels as if it’s their fault that her reality hurts so much. In her desperation, she justifies her own actions in those moments because she knows that none of them are truly real and that they don’t actually feel pain unlike she can. Plus, her actions led to you finally noticing her, which is what she needed in order to get a grasp of the reality she wanted anyway.

During the climax, she’s actually happy to be in your presence. She fell in love with you out of the desperation of wanting something real. Monika became attached to you, and saw you as the only thing that can make her feel any real emotion, love, and happiness. It was her own desperation that led to her demise. Unfortunately, she was forced to face the consequences of what she did to her world. The player never asked for anything that Monika did, you only wanted to play a cutesy video game. The way she twisted it was so psychotic, and Monika couldn’t even see that.

It was only when you deleted her that she finally realized her wrongdoings. She also realized that she’ll never truly fit in anywhere. If she were to stay in DDLC, she would only feel empty inside and starving for something more. If she were to be a part of our reality, she would realize that she can never be considered human because in our world, she would instead be considered artificial intelligence (AI). When she accepts her fate, it is out of the sadness of knowing that she can never be happy anywhere. That’s why she is not present during the final scenes of the game.

That is until Monika deletes the game as a whole. Her character file was deleted, but somehow that artificial intelligence managed to stick around and cling onto Sayori. With that remaining self-awareness, Monika was able to manifest herself onto that for a final chance of redemption. Her life within the game flashes before her eyes, every memory and every core event that happened seems to be rushing back. The ways that she hurt her friends immediately occurs in her mind, and it’s that guilt that makes her strive to make it up to them, even if they weren’t truly real. As if wanting to protect her friends from the realization that she had, Monika decides to do one last thing before she “dies”. As if it were some sort of way to let her friends be released from DDLC peacefully, she deletes everything. The world, her school, her club, her dearest friends. She gave herself up in order to protect the things she truly loved in her life. She truly loved her friends, even if they weren’t real, because they had stuck with her all this time, way before player joined. Those were the purest forms of love that she felt, and it must’ve been sad for her to realize that.

Monika’s final send off, “Your Reality”, acts sort of like a reflection of herself and mainly a final display to the player, you, that she did have humanity within her. You can tell by the piano, her voice, and her lyrics that the song is completely genuine and from the bottom of her heart. She wants DDLC to end on a good note because 1) Monika never had that chance to end like that herself, and 2) She doesn’t want you to be upset, she wants you to be happy because she truly did love you. She doesn’t want you or anyone else to go through the same thing she did, and I think that is fricking raw.

If you made it to the end of this rant, damn. I’d like to hear your thoughts and opinions about Monika’s while arc. Thanks for reading haha <3

[fiberpunk027]

Weekend Monday Writing Challenge!!

Another great challenge went up this weekend! @thedissonantverses Always kicks ass with these. But I was out of town and finishing final edits on my DABB (WHICH COMES OUT THIS WEEK OMG).

I think I've decided that I will start posting most of these on Ao3 unless they have nothing to do with my continuities that I currently write for. So many of these are just building out lore for my characters and their connections with one another it just makes sense to make things more easily accessible and connect them with a series in Ao3.

You can read this Challenge on Ao3 if you would like!!!

Or you can read it below the cut!

Alistair’s vision was hazy, and his head was pounding. He tried to squint to force his blurring sight to come into focus, but it only made things worse. It made no sense. They’d only been walking in the woods. Why was this-

He’s in the woods, walking along the path beside Zukal. It’s dark out, but the stars that poke out between the high canopy of trees are dazzling and too numerous to count. She is holding his hand. She is speaking, but he can’t make out her words because she is squeezing his hand tightly in his own, so tightly it hurts-

“Alistair?” His vision shifted again, and the world blurred again. Yet here he could finally hear what Zukal was saying. Why were his senses unable to function at the same time?

“Alistair, can you hear what I’m saying?” she asked.

He wanted to nod his head, but it only made the pain worse.

He remembers a story, tells her about his childhood. He had been terrified of the dark woods outside of Redcliffe village as a child. Now he is not scared because her hand is so tightly clenched around his own. He wants to tell her every awful thing that happened in his life he is grateful for, because it leads him to her. But his lips won’t move.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he heard her calling out to him repeatedly.

If he could see her, he would tell her how lovely she looked in the starlight, but his lips wouldn't move, just like his eyes wouldn't see.

“Alistair, come on! You can’t go out like this. Not after what you told me,” she said, and for a moment it sounded like she was crying, but that couldn’t be right. Zukal never cried. “Just hold on. Make it to the morning, please.”

He can see her now. Her eyes are free of tears, and she is smiling at him in a way that makes his pulse race. Has anyone ever looked at him like that? He wants to find a way to keep those bright eyes locked on him. He will walk on his hands from here to Cumberland if that means she will keep looking at him. Her attention is the most precious thing to him right now. Nothing in the world could supersede it.

“Alistair!” she screamed, nearly scaring him out of his skin. The world had changed back into those shades of blurred grey and green. “Please stay awake for me. Please, please, please.”

He didn’t know what she meant, he’d been awake this whole time. Why would he want to sleep with her here?

“Zukal I need you to step back!” Another voice called out, stern and clear. “Step back right now so I can revive him!”

“Alistair, please stay! You have to stay! I can’t do this without you!”

Her voice sounds far away, like it is calling to him from the end of a very long tunnel. He wants to follow it, but he is so tired, and the forest is so lovely. The woman beside him is smiling, and she has beautiful eyes. She looks familiar, but he cannot place why. Her voice continues to call from far away, but her lips do not move. She merely stares at him in rapt devotion. Her hand clutches his own, and it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts-

Alistair felt what he could only describe as lightning striking his chest as he was jolted upright and forward. He coughed, spitting up blood, feeling the horrific burn in his skin as parts of his body were stitching back together and healing. He looked up to see, not Zukal, but Wynne, looking at him with a frightfully concerned gaze.

“There’s our boy,” she replied, with a relieved look. “Welcome back, Alistair.”

“What? Why am I not-?” He could barely string a sentence together.

“Hush,” she said, the fear in her eyes not matching the strictness of her tone.“That’ll teach you both not to wander so far away from camp.”

“Both?” He coughed again, more blood filled his mouth, the metallic tang of it making him gag and choke. Spitting it out of his mouth, he lay back against the ground, urging the world to quit spinning as he stared up at the sky. There was no star-strewn canopy of trees. There was only the open expanse of sky from the clearing where they’d made their camp. Had it been some bizarre dream?

“Are you seeing clearly?” Wynne asked him. He nodded, though he wasn’t sure which was true. This sky or the one he’d been marveling at while Zukal held his hand so tightly that it hurt. But that wasn’t right. She was so small, and though frightfully powerful, there was no way she could have hurt him so badly just by holding his hand. He turned his head to look at it, hearing Wynne call out to try and stop him. What he saw at the end of his arm looked more like scavenged meat than an actual hand. He struggled not to throw up from the horror of seeing a part of himself look so awful.

“Maker’s breath, what happened, Wynne?” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the burn of more magic emanating from her hands into his ruined one.

“Bear attack,” she replied, “From how Zukal tells it, you fought the beast single-handedly and won.”

He couldn’t remember a bear attack, but he could barely remember his own name right now.

“Is she-”

“She’s fine,” Wynne said, placating him like a small child, “She’s washing up. There was quite a lot of blood.”

“The bear’s?”

“Some of it, yes.” The healer took a deep breath, pausing in her work. “I’ll be right back, dear. I need a few doses of lyrium if this will get settled before sunrise.”

He didn’t want to be alone, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask Wynne to stay like a child. The woman talked to him like he was one quite enough.

Trying to keep his eyes open, he did his best to steady his breathing. Watching the blinking stars above him until he heard the footsteps of Wynne returning.

“Bet you would have never seen anything as gruesome as this in the Circle?” he tried to joke, but there was no response. It was fairly off color and poorly timed, even for him, but he didn’t know what else to say. “I realize that was a horrible joke-” he tried to apologize, but before he could get the full words out, he was suddenly attacked once more.

For a moment, he was afraid for his life again, the air knocked from his body. It dawned on him slowly that the creature was clinging tightly to him, a face buried in his neck, murmuring things that he wasn’t exactly revived enough to understand.

“Maker’s breath!” He heard Wynne chiding, “Give him some room to breathe!”

As Zukal finally released him, he caught a glimpse of her face, streaked with mud, blood, and worry. “You big dumb idiot,” she said, punching him in the shoulder, “You almost died on me.”

“That can’t be true. If I’d died on you, who would have called for help? You’d be crushed beneath me?” He joked, and like a blessing of the Maker, she actually laughed.

He could feel the warmth of magic again and cast a glance at his hand once more, relieved to see it looking far more ‘hand-like’ than before.

“Give it to me straight, Healer,” he asked, making Wynne’s eyes dart towards him despite her work. “Will I make it?” She rolled her eyes, but he couldn’t miss her affectionate smirk.

“That’s not funny!” Zukal said, settling in on the ground beside him, pulling her knees up under his chin. He watched as she lay her cheek on a knee and picked up his good hand, holding on tightly.

“It’s a little funny,” he replied, feeling the warmth of her hand in his own and remembering now why they’d wandered off into the woods in the first place. He could feel her hand warm in his own as he’d babbled on and on nervously, trying to work up the courage to say what had been on his mind for ages now. When, as these things always seemed to go in his life, they’d been attacked by a bloody bear.

“Did I at least look heroic when the bear chewed my hand off?” he asked.

Wynne made a noise of disgust, but he heard the sound of Zukal’s snorting laugh and felt successful in his endeavor.

“Dashing and heroic,” she clarified, squeezing his hand.

He squeezed it back, certain that if he was able to make it to the morning, he would tell her, just like he’d intended in the woods. He wouldn’t let another day go by without her knowing-

“Look! Sunrise is here!” Wynne said, picking her head up to look across the distance.

Zukal turned her head to join the mage in appraisal of the sunrise. From where he lay on the ground, it still looked rather dark, but there did seem to be fewer stars blinking above him.

He squeezed her hand again, trying to grab her attention. She glanced down at him, eyes meeting his as she smiled. Maker, it was good to be alive to receive such a look.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said, starting to work up his courage.

“You already did, Alistair,” she said, softly leaning in closer.

“I did?”

She nodded and held his hand a little tighter.

“Did you?-”

“Yeah,” she replied, with a soft smile, laying her head against her knees once again to gaze down at him with what he could only describe as adoration. “I love you, too.”

“Oh good,” he said, letting out a relieved sigh.

Wynne cleared her throat from his other side, and he finally felt the heat of her spell cease.

“It looks like you’re going to make it, Alistair,” she said, getting up with a groan and smiling knowingly as she walked away out of his line of sight.

“Do you think she knows?” he asked, unable to stop himself from grinning.

She laughed, and it was the greatest sound he’d ever heard.

[diet-static]

pressure oc that’s been running around in my head :3 kinda a wip but yea

(and suggestions!)

Z-314 - it/its

- Urbanshade human experiment meant to give humans advanced healing.

- Been injected with DNA strands from octopi, jellyfish, sea stars, and crabs. (moreso candidates, this’ll probably get narrowed down)

- When extremely stressed or hurt, limbs similar to any of the creatures combined with its DNA may sprout from random locations on its body.

- After spending so long in Urbanshade’s containment and being so disfigured by the DNA injected into it and that DNA’s effects, Z-314 lost the feeling of being human at all. It sees itself as a horrific monster, but excuses the fact that this is Urbanshade’s doing with the reasoning that Urbanshade only meant to strengthen it and that the scientists working with it give it much more than it deserves.

- Since it feels the food and shelter Urbanshade gives it is much more than it deserves, it often feels the experiments done on it, no matter how painful or cruel, are merely payment for anything Urbanshade gives it. This can also lead to it eating less if it feels it's messed up in some way or if something it did angered a scientist.

- Often keeps to itself, not wanting others to have to see it, let alone deal with any of its problems.

- Goes to any lengths to do what is asked of it, especially if the request comes from someone positively associated with Urbanshade.

- Stayed in its containment a while after the blacksite was destroyed, at first out of fear, but later believing staying put would make it easier to find it. It eventually left in search of food and saw the remains from the many deaths of operatives attempting to recover the crystal, and decided to find a way out on its own after realizing how dangerous and difficult it would be for it to rely on operatives getting it out.

i also have a few quotes i think describe it very well (taken from tiktok, i don’t remember the authors, so lmk if you happen to recognize them)

- “you could give away pieces of your flesh and still be called selfish for wanting to keep your bones”

- “you cannot save me. i was not made for anyone to hold.”

[citrus-cactus]

The concept of soulmates in Gargoyles is so interesting.

On the one hand, you have Demona and Macbeth, whose repeated meetings while dealing with the Hunter and eventual fate-sealing pact was something that they (for the most part) were manipulated into by outside, otherworldly, and unknowable forces (including one closed-loop time travel paradox… the idea that they, specifically, were necessary for the Archmage’s plans was one that cannot be attributed to any individual, including the Archmage himself). They are fated to be together, are quite literally bound together by fate: sharing each other’s pain, effectively immortal, because the only way for them to die is for one of them to kill the other. And thus they have been carrying on throughout the centuries, hating each other, thorns in each other’s sides, and yet one of the only constants the other has after 900+ years of living. One of them seeks to end their arrangement while the other is driven to survive at all costs—and thus they are destined to go on existing while remaining pawns in someone else’s game. They are neither able to escape the fate that they (by their personalities) or others (by their machinations) made for them, nor can they ever truly escape each other… no matter how much they (either secretly or openly) might want to.

And then you have the Coldtrio. Three sides of a relationship triangle comprised of two lovers and a schemer, who were (perhaps) close enough in proximity at the time of their death that their remnants lay mingled for a thousand years, and became the piles of rubble Demona and Xanatos scavenged in order to make their gargoyle version of Frankenstein. Their three souls were corralled into a single magic-and-science animated corpse made from their shattered body parts, three minds vying for control of the body they were forced to share, doomed to exist in a sort of cyberspace limbo and continue the relationships they had in life. Desdemona/Coldfire even used the word “soulmate” to describe what the three of them were to each other… even though one of her “mates” was her love and the other was someone who coveted her from afar and would do anything to “have” her, even against her wishes. Even after they became three separate entities again, both she and Othello/Coldstone felt they had an obligation to track down Iago/Coldsteel and attempt to put an end to his endless scheming.

It’s just fascinating that both of these examples touch on the concept of a soulmate, but then the show takes the extra step of mixing in these less-than-noble but very real emotions of petty jealousy, suspicion, and hate, adds a healthy dose of immortality and dramatic irony to the proceedings, and then spends a significant amount of time telling stories meant to explore the consequences of all that.

Having a “soulmate” in the Gargoyles universe, it would seem, is not something to wish for. At once tragic and horrific, the polar opposite of an ideal, akin to snakes eating each other’s tails. To have a soulmate is to lose a significant part of your autonomy, becoming a participant in an endless cycle of violence in which you are either the pursuer or pursued, tormentor or tormented, one ingredient in a cocktail of clashing personalities shaken together, poured into a glass, and then purposefully dropped on the floor to become shards in someone else’s feet. The part of you that yearns for release will be powerless to enact it because the other parts of you will always have a say, and the sum total of yourself becomes something that is both unwilling and unable to ever truly stop. And then it all comes to a head in "High Noon," when the Weird Sisters—manifestations of fate, vengeance, and grace— very blatantly involve themselves in both.

I just think that’s neat, is all.

[tandytoaster]

It's been one month since my mother had the ruptured aneurysm. The other day she told me she feels a little bit better each day.

But nanny keeps going over there and doing a bunch of shit that hurts her head and stresses her out and that scares me a lot .

Obviously my mother is the one who is taking this the worst as she's the one it happened to but other than that ever since it happened my sense of reality has been shattered and fragmented. I'm scared for my mother, convinced of the worst, and I have to pretend everything is fine with me talking to Steve.

I have to disconnect from my reality, which is the real one in this case, and pretend that nothing happened with him. And i will have to do this forever. I'm angry that my family doesn't ( seem to ) care but I'm confused when my friends do.

I feel like the world has changed, that the course of life is vastly different now. ""Something shifted"" type of shit. Something shifted something changed. Quantum immortality and now I am also somewhere else other than where I started

I am a bitter grown adult and a scared child looking for love and to be loved. But never at the same time. I want to believe that I was never hurt and I refuse to acknowledge all of the fucked up things that have happened to me because of my mom because I cannot handle the thought of thinking of her negatively at this time.

It's like when your leg falls asleep. I see the memory ( the leg is factually there ), i go to feel what it makes me feel ( i go to touch the leg ), but i something is preventing me from feeling it ( i cannot sense the touch ). I am just fully blocked from any negative feeling, any anger or resentment or pain.

I am a child with a car and an apartment and a job in retail management and I don't know how I got here. I am 25 and I will never feel 25. I did not feel 24, i did not feel 23, i did not feel 22, i did not feel 21, i did not feel 20. I move forward but I stay the same.

I feel selfish for being so scared and mentally disturbed by this because obviously this did not happen to Me, this happened to my mom. But at the same time this has destroyed my ability to believe the nuance that I can both be bitter and still love my mother. I can no longer understand that a family is complex and that I can still love someone who has failed me so catastrophically. I can see and understand in others, but not myself. When I apply that to myself, it doesn't make sense. When I try to use logic and reason and nuance, it doesn't click. "This is a normal response for people in these types of situations", those are just words and I know what they mean but they don't comfort me.

I want to believe this feeling will go away eventually but I know what I'm like and I know how weird beliefs stick to me. The trajectory of life changed in 2020 and if I were smart enough, if i wait long enough, there would be some way to go back and change it. This isn't my main disturbance anymore but it still exists and its still my default state of belief. Its been almost 5 years.

A lot of times i don't understand the gravity of a situation but here I feel like i'm the only one who truly understands how horrific and realistically, statistically deadly this is.

This is all over the place . I feel like i have so much more to add but i cant find it . Like this has really REALLY fucked me up in a way that i can't figure out how to describe. I'm me but I'm 2 me's ( resentment + yearning ) and even though they're both me they do not exist at the same time anymore its either one or the other and resentment has been kicked out entirely

[wifegideonnav]

alright day 3/6 down!

im so mentally drained lol, though in a very good way. i am so glad i have the next few days off for sure. honestly don’t have too much to say today? each successive trip has been less and less “logical” or “explicable” in words. if i had to summarize it tho, today was about learning to spread love outwards, to reflect that which i feel like has been flowing into me for the previous two trips. i just felt like i had so much gratitude and love for my people, but in this sort of deep/primal sense that i can’t capture in words. I guess the way to describe it is a feeling of being connected on a soul level. i came out of it with strong messages for several people in my life, and a desire to uplift my loved ones. i also feel more connected to nature, especially animals of all kinds.

they told me at the clinic that day three is when people really start turning a corner, and i definitely feel that within myself. i was saying to a friend, it’s hard to know how this new attitude will translate to my interactions out in life, as all ive been doing for the last 3 days is tripping, sleeping, and processing 😅 so not exactly representative of normal life. it’ll also be interesting to see how the changes im feeling develop or last over the long term, when im further away temporally from this experience. but as for now, i simply feel full of love and grace and gratitude.

this treatment is in no way a mental health panacea, and i know there’s so much more work im going to have to do. but in a way, for the first time that work feels… accessible in a way it never has before. ive pretty much always had the sense, ever since i started therapy, that talking, going through my logical brain, is not the way to healing for me. my brain is way too good at like. dodging attempts to logic itself out of depression, unhealthy thoughts, etc. so ive always had this sense that in order for the real work to begin, i need to access the deeper parts of my brain that run on emotion, not logic. the best way i can describe it is the difference between knowing or being told that i am loved and worthy, and actually feeling that in a visceral, all consuming way. it feels like i am unlocking the piece of me that was missing, or hiding, or starved. it’s accessing a part of me that i haven’t had access to, precisely by more or less shoving me into it, but in the most beautiful and gentle and teaching-based way.

really, the biggest shift ive felt mentally is this move away from anger, resentment, and the pain that comes from that. im now able to look back on past events with a sense of dawning peace and compassion, both for myself and the people who have hurt me. again, this is still just the beginning of the work, and im sure ill continue to be unpacking this for a long time to come. but for the first time, the dominant emotions ive been feeling are peace and contentment with being in the present moment. and even if this feeling doesn’t last, i know ill have the memory and experience of it to draw on in the future.

overall, im feeling good, im making strides, and im growing. i cannot articulate how grateful i am to have this opportunity; it’s horrific bullshit that not everybody has access to the same treatment. thank you all for being so supportive and respectful of my journey 🥰 ill be back with another recap on monday!

[healingmoth]

Making a post to describe my meltdowns to my friends who aren't autistic:

It's like this buildup of all my emotions, every uncomfortable feeling throughout the days or weeks (depending on how long it's been since my last one) come out at once. I am reacting viscerally to having to mask my autistic symptoms or to be social. Any tiny mistake I made, any bad feelings I have about myself or others are suddenly all I can think about. My thoughts loop over and over, the same phrases echoed a million times clanging about in there. I get very black and white in my thinking as well, I cannot think in a nuanced or balanced way. If I am angry at myself or someone else I can only feel angry towards that person, I cannot feel positive emotion.

I am also reacting to how loud the world around me is, how my clothes feel against my skin, how bright the lights are, how cold or hot it is. Though I already experience the world without a filter (or with a very shitty filter at least) during a meltdown this is amplified. Electricity in the walls can sound loud as hell, I feel trapped in my own skin, any sensory input can be bad during a meltdown. I will often retreat to my room during a meltdown and turn off all lights and try to find a spot with the least input possible. I can feel every tiny thing, every small fiber of cloth against me, the temperature of the air etc. Sensory input during a meltdown is physically painful sometimes, my head will hurt if the lights are on/the shades aren't closed. If my clothes are uncomfortable they feel like they are chaffing against my skin, sometimes it feels like the fibers of cloth are stabbing me.

I shake, cry, rock, scream and hit myself to distract from all of that. The stimulation pulls my attention away from how horrific I feel momentarily, hitting myself or banging my head against a wall can be the only thing that distracts from all the sensory and emotional input I am experiencing. Often, the pain of self injury feels better than all the other input I'm getting.

[thevemlife]

Silent serenity.

Nothing is louder than absolute silence, which is something I often seek out. The cacophony of life quickly becomes more than I can handle, overwhelming me and enshrouding me in panic or fear. Silence offers a solitary domain, it allows me peace and stability in an otherwise chaotic landscape. 

The issue with this however is two-fold; true silence can be hard to come by, outside of changing your surroundings it is often beyond your control to maintain. This is somewhat easier given my current circumstances, with the ability to travel to a remote location as I desire. Secondly, it is addictive. The longer I spend seeking silence, the less I find I want this stillness to be broken. The more frustrating it becomes to hear the rev of an engine, the passing of a low flying plane, or even others conversations - feeling as though they are intruding in your space, when in reality it is as much theirs as it is yours.

Meditation or introspection within this tranquillity are some of the methods I deploy to alleviate my mental health struggles, which I'm certainly no stranger to at this point.

As with much of mental health treatment, pinpointing their onset is not an exact science. Brains are a concoction of innate fears, learned behaviours, past experiences and everything in between - but it's fair to say that most of my issues began following an extended stay in hospital at the age of 12.

Appendicitis is a typically routine operation when diagnosed early enough, unfortunately however this was not the case for me - it's believed that my appendix likely burst around a week before I was admitted to hospital, leading to severe septicaemia by the time it was removed.

Septicaemia is not a fate I would wish on my worst enemy. It left me hospitalised for almost 2 months - though my memory of this time is hazy and I slept for almost ever hour I could - I can recall that for at least the first month I literally couldn't eat or drink anything due to fluid on my lungs and thus had a tube down my throat, my only solace being wet cotton dabbed on my lips to keep them from drying out. With 4 separate venous catheters at all times, 2 in each arm, providing me with the necessary nutrients and fluids to stay alive, plus antibiotics and morphine for the pain.

Hospitals are, rather obviously, a horrible place to be for this amount of time - especially on a children's ICU ward. Our brains are wired to block out traumatic experiences in order to protect the host and thus I luckily don't remember everything I witnessed, but in reliving this time introspectively, I can still hear the harrowing cries of sick children in pain, the coughs and aches ringing through the halls, heart monitors and medical equipment rhythmically beating, and the tears of other parents as they dealt with equally tragic scenarios.

I cannot imagine the agony my parents must have gone through at this time, to see their child in a near comatose state. Although a harrowing memory from my own perspective and likely the catalyst for ongoing mental health issues and trauma, what pains me the most is to know they were just as scared. They were just as powerless. Yet, they did not leave me side. For the entire stay I recall one of them would sleep next to me on the ward each night, afforded only with a fold out bed and a crap cup of tea each morning. For this I will be eternally grateful and undoubtedly indebted, as I never once questioned how much I was loved.

Facings ones mortality is a horrific concept at any age, but to be only 12 years old and to understand so directly the finality of life, to have experienced near death in such a painful and formidable way drastically affected my mental status-quo and I am still yet to fully recover.

Ever since then, I have felt hollow. It is not an easy feeling to describe, but I lost a part of me. My childhood was gone, ripped out from under me, as life's mask lifted to reveal how hostile and fragile it can truly be.

Before this I would argue that, although not perfect, my childhood had been a happy one. I might not fully agree with the ways my parents had raised me and my brothers, but they had done everything they believed was right to provide us with a stable home, opportunities to learn and grow, enjoyable experiences and unconditional love. One cannot really ask for more than this.

However I would suggest that it was somewhat sheltered, my parents had exacting rules about what we could or could not watch, the types of toys they wanted us to own, and the video games we were allowed to play. These rules came from their personal disdain for violence, war, bad language and anything that celebrated death - plus my mum is a devout Christian and I believe her faith played a heavy role into these choices.

I completely understand this decision, it is much easier for me to debate what I might do as a parent without ever having been one, but wanting to protect your child in any way possible would certainly be high up on that list. Though, at least for myself, I now consider if these rules resulted in a mental distancing from pain and death. I absolutely understood the concepts, and they would not often shy away from answering the difficult questions a child may have, but I doubt I was wholly conscious of the fact that a long life is not a guarantee.

Hindsight is a cruel mistress, perhaps with knowledge of the future my parents may have adjusted their tactics to soften the mental blow I experienced from hospitalisation - though life is unpredictable and merciless and living for the 'worst case scenario' is equally as unhealthy. I believe the psychological whiplash I experienced may have been heightened due to this, as the protective veil that had been built around me was ripped down in an instant.

Thus began my battle with cPTSD, chronic depression, anxiety, dissociation, psychosis & paranoia. Admittedly these are not all ubiquitous, certain days are better than others and I have learnt to control or overcome a few, but at one point in my life I have dealt with each of these at differing levels of severity.

The years that proceeded were some of the worst I've yet experienced for mental instability, emanating from a loss of faith, a lack of 'self' and a complete distrust in the system. I'm sure I'll expand on these years in a future post as they were fraught with emotion and highly influential for the person I became - as is the case for many teenagers.

Learning to cope with trauma or mental illness is not an easy path to follow, it cannot be a 'cookie cutter' process as each individual experiences their own mental anguish differently and will find certain strategies more beneficial. Luckily as these afflictions are being treated more like traditional physical illnesses in todays age, the available medical knowledge and treatment options continue to improve - though there is a great wealth more to be done - as such I implore anyone dealing with these feelings to seek professional help and learn what approach will suit you best in delivering a happier and more fulfilling life.

I do not wish to pretend I have all the answers, as I am merely a psychological layman seeking their own resolutions, therefore I don't necessarily recommend silent meditation to all - but I would encourage you to try it.

Find a place of peace and search within yourself for answers, or simply empty your mind and enjoy the moment.

Overcoming the pain of mental trauma takes perseverance and resilience, this journey is something I am still actively working on. I suspect I will continue to deal with a ranging level of distressing emotions for the foreseeable future, as long ago I acknowledged the potential to be resigned to these illnesses for the rest of my life, but I am steadfast nonetheless.

Traumatised, anxious, depressed, overthinker. These things may describe me, but they do not define me. I am not beholden to my demons, they are beholden to me. I will not let them hold me back.

[diseases-i-just-made-up]

My lungs hurt when I run :(

Ah yes, a common enough ailment indeed, it may be easy to brush off this request as simply human nature, but considering your title… Femurbrake, so to say, quite the unusual spelling but valid nonetheless, I can only assume your leg must have suffered a breaking of the femur bone sometime before sending this message. Considering the horrific implications of an injury of this magnitude, it is no wonder that this was sent to me via letter rather than an in person consultation, although you are no doubt recovering to some degree, taking into account your details of running.

If this wound did not receive proper care prior to being sealed, infection is not such a far leap away. A virus well known for infecting large open wounds (which may have occurred as a result of the femur bone piercing the skin) is anhelarentus, also known colloquially as running sickness, as the disease caused as a result of this virus could only be diagnosed through observation of the patient's behaviour while running, before modern medicine made detection of the virus without this procedure possible. This virus is known to result in degeneration of the heart and lungs, which, while often not enough to affect everyday activity, can cause moderate to extreme shortness of breath and arrhythmia, also known as an irregular heartbeat, while running. As a result of this, you may also experience lightheadedness, along with the symptom you seem to describe in your request, which is chest pain.

Anhelarentus is an extremely difficult virus to detect in its early stages, especially since, as described earlier, anhelarentus is almost always asymptomatic when immobile, or when moving in a way that does not put extra stress on the heart and lungs, such as walking. Due to this, it is no wonder you have managed to make it through the majority of the healing process without it being discovered. Fortunately, I am a far more competent physician than the ones you will have unfortunately found yourself in the company of, and I am able to make diagnoses across the distances in a manner others cannot.

I suggest immediately reporting to your nearest ER and requesting an amputation of the leg afflicted by the femur break, as anhelarentus is known to form a mass inside the muscle surrounding the infection site and spread throughout the body by sending the virus in incremental spurts from this location. This mass can be extremely difficult to remove without causing further, often irreparable damage to the leg, which could result in the limb being unusable, after which you will likely need to have it removed anyway. It's easier to just bite the bullet and get it over with quickly, instead of suffering through a procedure with a very low success rate that most likely will end in the same result. Thank you for inquiring upon me.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary285

6/29-30/24

saturday - sunday

didn't draw today (but that is okay (maybe i will?))

mostly i have worked on music, not album related, just stuff for whatever comes after, trying to nail down something to make it compelling for myself to sing on, a part, messing w/ the riffs and mixing and stuff.

just found this:

funny whitebelt thing in the wild, bizarre riffs on this. the rest of the album seems about as good so far.

yeah it's almost over, this is kind of a certified classic if i may say so, or like, when you're look for weird stuff no one really cares about, this is great, super weird riffs, still plays it pretty close to hardcore/pv/metalcore almost but has all kinds of strange flourishes, a lot here to learn from/enjoy, they have an earlier record that i'm excited to hear now, i feel like this is one of those super short emoviolence releases i will find myself coming back to frequently, like palatka and some other stuff.

i don't think i will draw today...not like there is a lot to do. really i want to draw a couple really horrific looking wound-things, and then the rest of the cover i need to wait until i get a photo of myself, basically, and for that i need to feel good about myself, which should be soon, but i need to get good sleep for that to happen!!

i am up right now, not too late but i should be sleeping soon, reading a woman's posts about elden ring's text, as in, the meaning/construction of its meaning and what it points to, it's crazy, because she says a lot of the things i feel, it's really interesting to see, typically with the people into this stuff, a lot of it's about hard details, which is okay, but i do quite like seeing people point out that these games have specific references/evoke ideas from elsewhere in human history, literature and philosophy and so on, here is a post:

i think for her she is pointing at i guess what the characters point at, there was a strange nietzsche reflection today as i played, (the first time in a couple days actually i was taking a break but i woke up so early and figured why not, i suppose), there is this old woman you can encounter in belurat, upon killing messmer, she says some things to you, she is convinced you are one of the dancing lions, and she is grateful to you, and then expresses a guilt, that her ressentiment pushed you to such lengths, the ressentiment of all the beaten/slaughtered has brought you much pain and their relief is here at last a fleeting thing, it still is though. it brings to mind the failure of the moral order which seeks justice in such a way, not that this woman is anything resembling bad, it is instead rather good writing for her to be aware of the ressentiment, of it as something which harms, a difficulty to overcome, in her forgetting, her ability to rest, she rejoins her will, she dies. she was so long cleaved from her will, the stream of life, i think, is maybe what the games point at a lot, the ability to live, for eternal return to not be a crisis but instead the vicious cycle klossowski outlines as an expression of a tragic character perhaps, but still part of a kind of mobility, in truth eternal return becomes impossible as all things mount, forgetting disappears from these worlds, history is atop itself, it is accruing and despite the decay, nothing becomes waste. even in the ruins you see in the games, they are not true ruins really, they are dwellings, nothing sprouts there, the woods are old, the roots evident, you cannot escape the order, or, the order is impressed upon you, constantly.

she also has a post about how the game doesn't seem to be siding with marika/leda/miquella, which i agree with as well, though i do think it tends to agree with leda when she describes the people of the tower being also fucked up, basically, because they are, though this is less some notion of human nature at play i think and instead an expression of a kind of order shared, maybe inherited by both the people of the tower and the erdtree. gosh this is so #nerdy. or like, #dorky. actually. it is like dorkcore. but it's interesting to me because at the end of all that lore junk, you get to the vision of reactionary cultures sprouting up to defend order, in various methods, it is not conquest, it is reaction and suppression which guides the holy sects of either side, or perhaps not just the holy sects, though that is part of the apparatus. really, what it makes apparent, are those apparatuses which exist, the social technologies and the practices that enable them, continuous through this terrible and infinite history.

here too, to return to nietzsche, the way fia represents the self possessed corpses, the deathly as a kind of gentle thing, a will which is snuffed and denied but extant, and a strange reverence in her actions for it, the turn on the saints and christian imagery/text in her character+arc, this here is a transvaluation of things, at least, i feel like it is... perhaps i am #stupid.

anyway, i should sleep now, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!