#the nightmares have began

[havarstpapyrus]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Chapters 4, 5, and 6 are all done and uploaded as well as new cuts to show who's poc your reading. Things have started to get dark and you get first hand off what Corruption does

I did edit chapters 1, 2, and 3 to be the same way but those chapters have lil faces on them as well

Also this fic is strictly 18+ all minors are advised not to read this!

[kraviolis]

*clings onto any and all characters who show both subtle or explicit signs of plurality from all of my various interests and hyperfixations consistently throughout my entire life* no no its all a coincidence im just fascinated with the concept i certainly dont relate to it haha

[kaurwreck]

It's actually really appropriate that bsd happened to me because I learned about the Sengoku period of Japan from Samurai Warriors. I was moé Oichi in the very first dream in which I exercised volitional control over the dream narrative and environment.

[mariocki]

Messiah of Evil (Dead People, 1974)

"Hard to remember back on things... but I - I remember the red moonlight Daddy told me about, only once. Mama gave him a bad look when he talked about it. He was only a boy himself, then. He called it the blood moon. He said that was the night that he lost religion. He learned that men could do... could do horrible things... like animals."

[lith-myathar]

.

[kindafooey]

Man. What they don't tell you about epileptic seizures is that witnessing one up close for the first time is a straight up horror movie experience

[e-6000]

Had my first real nightmare in years last night

[thewatercolours]

Uh hey here’s my King’s Quest fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41017731

Royal Guard Number One was really the only person in Daventry who worried about thieves. He really seemed to think his two swords were the only things standing between the town and a complete bandit ransack. The way the townsfolk left their doors open, even at night or when they were out, was a longstanding source of frustration. He had once paid out of pocket for a “Lot’s Make Daventry Locked for Everyone!” poster campaign. He’d walked straight into everyone’s kitchens and parlours to hang the posters, without knocking. Everyone grumbled and called him a snoopy housebreaker, and no one started locking their doors.

So it was all he could do to keep from running to the ramparts and crying, “Told you so,” when the rash of robberies hit.

At first it was just pumpkins from the patch south of town, and fruit off the royal trees. Surely just hungry animals, the people said. They picked through my trash too. Yeah, they made a mess of mine too, greedy beggars. Badgers, most likely. I had to get a trap from Chester and Muriel. Funny though. Didn’t think badgers liked pumpkins. Wouldn’ta thought they could carry them off, either. Hm – yeah. That is odd. Maybe they ate them on the spot. All those pumpkins in one night? Maaaaybe. Rummest thing I ever heard of. We’ve had badgers forever, and they’ve never done this.

“I woulda thought the fruit would be safe at least,” Number Two muttered. “I always sleep with the fruit picker under my pillow, just in case.”

“In case what?” Number One sneered.

“Emergencies. You know.”

“You don’t think it’s possible the fruit was picked without the picker?”

“It’s a thought.”

They had to discard the animal theory altogether once it turned into shop robberies.

Wente didn’t like to make a fuss over someone taking a shelf’s worth of bread. The poor souls probably needed it, he reasoned. If only they’d felt comfortable enough to some in and talk it over with him first. He might have been able to do them more good than just the bread. Bramble had to talk him out of hanging a sign on the door that read, “Criminals welcome – free hugs.”

Most of the odds and ends taken from the Hobblepots’ apothecary weren’t of much consequence, but eternal flame lanterns in good condition were valuable, and the theft sent them into a snit. She and Chester both claimed that of course they were intelligent enough to lock their doors, but that they assumed the other was too, and that was perhaps assuming too much. The quarrel died down once Muriel ordered a four-key chromium lock and Chester got some mantis jerky in him, but it was all very upsetting. They never tired of telling Amaya, who hadn’t been hit yet, to be on her guard and order a lock too.”

“No need,” said Amaya, fingering the blade she’d just finished embellishing. “I want ‘em to come in. If I’m gonna stay up all night on their account, I better get a decent chance to bash ‘em.”

[polux-aka-hyakunana]

Just some tag thoughts in this fine raining morning before I work 🌠

[e-louise-bates]

,

okay so this is not an ‘official’ metric by any scale but i am curious so i just bullshitted my own (explanation on levels under the poll)

level 1 - can’t tolerate horror at all, actively avoids it at all costs

level 2 - will watch a horror movie with friends/family if convinced but will definitely not enjoy it. screams at jumpscares and covers eyes at tense moments

level 3 - can occasionally consume horror media. very easily startles at jumpscares. usually feels anxious/paranoid afterward

level 4 - startles at jumpscares and generally feels uneasy after consuming horror media. avoids anything horror-related at night time

level 5 - jumpscares are less effective, but can still startle. feels anxious during tense moments. horror mostly causes unease only at night time

level 6 - has no problem consuming any kind of horror media alone at night. is largely unaffected by jumpscares. horror causes no feeling of fear or anxiety

[unreadpoppy]

Honestly, the Raw Fade wasn't as bad the second time around. I think part of it is that, now I know what happens and I know what I have to do, so it's easier to go through the maps. And I also employed a new strategy to not get lost called: pick one path and just keep moving forward, and it worked every single time.

[ohara-n-brown]

As a late diagnosed autist I will say one of the most damaging but transformative experiences I've ever had was being misdiagnosed with BPD.

Everyday my heart goes out to people with BPD.

The amount of stigma and silencing they face is astonishing and sickening.

I took DBT for years. Therapists use to turn me away because of my diagnosis.

I would be having full blown autistic meltdowns, crying for help literally - but because I was labeled as BPD ANY time I cried I was treated as manipulative and unstable.

As if the only reason I could be crying was if I was out to trick someone.

95% of the books out there with Borderline in the title are named shit like 'How to get away from a person with Borderline', 'How to stop walking on eggshells (with a person who has BPD)'

I was never allowed to feel true pain or panic or need.

That was 'attention seeking behavior', not me asking for help when a disability was literally inhibiting my ability to process emotions.

There were dozens of times where I had a full meltdown and was either threatened with institutionalization or told I was doing it for attention.

My failing relationships weren't due to a communication issue, or the inability to read social cues. No, because I was labeled borderline, my unstable relationships were my fault. Me beggong nuerotypicals to just be honest and blunt with what they meant was me pestering them for validation.

Borderline patients can't win.

And the funny thing is - I asked my therapist about autism. I told her I thought I was on the spectrum.

BPD is WILDLY misdiagnosed with those with autism and I had many clear signs.

Instead - she told me 'If you were autistic we wouldn't be able to have this conversation'. She made me go through a list of autistic traits made clearly for children, citing how I didn't fit each one.

And then she told me that me identifying with the autism community was the BPD making me search for identity to be accepted - and that I wasn't autistic, just desperate to fit in somewhere.

I didn't get diagnosed for another ten years. For ten years I avoided the autism community - feeling as if I were just a broken person who wanted to steal from people who 'really needed it'.

Because of my providers - I began to doubt my identity MORE, not less.

Ten years of thinking I was borderline and being emotionally neglected and demonized by a system meant to help me.

To this day, I still don't trust neurotypicals. Not fully.

I know I'm not borderline now - but my heart aches for them. Not for the usual stuff. But for the stigma. And the asshole doctors. And the dismissiveness and threatening and the idea of institutionalization hanging over their head.

I love Borderline people. I always will. I'm not Borderline but if you are I love you and I'm sorry.

You're not a bad person. You're not a therapists worst nightmare, you are a human with valid feelings and fears.

Borderline people I'm sorry.

[ayamohammed2024]

Hello

my name is Aya, I am 26 years old, currently living in the northern part of Gaza City, and I am a mother of two children. My oldest is my daughter, Sana'a, who is 5 years old, and my youngest is my son, Wasfi, who is 3.

Since the morning of October 7th, 2023, our lives have been turned upside down. We have lived through the hardest days of our lives, facing displacement and homelessness. We have been forced to leave our home more than ten times since the war began. We would leave without knowing where to go.

We sought refuge in schools and relatives' homes, hoping we could return home and that this nightmare would end. But our house was bombed, and our dreams were destroyed. We became homeless and displaced.

Every day, we wake up to the sound of bombs and rockets. I lived in constant fear and terror with my children, especially when my family's house was bombed while we were taking shelter there.

We are experiencing a real famine in Gaza. I’ve gone to bed with my children many nights without dinner because there is no food available. We have had to eat animal and bird feed due to the high cost of flour just to fill the hunger of my young children. Even after eating it, we all suffered from diarrhea and severe stomach pain. My children developed rashes on their bodies due to the spread of viruses and the accumulation of garbage. There is also a severe shortage of water, and even when we find it, it's not safe to drink.

My children cry, asking for vegetables, fruits, and eggs, but we can’t afford them because we have no income. The gas shortage has forced us to use fire for everything—cooking and baking—using plastic and pipes because firewood is so hard to find.

My children also developed jaundice, and I struggled a lot to get them better because there was no access to vegetables, fruits, or medicine. I even feared that my son might have developed polio because he already had leg problems before the war, and they worsened due to malnutrition.

Winter is coming, and we have nothing for it. I need clothes and shoes for my children to keep them warm, but I can’t buy them because they are so expensive.

For this reason, I beg of you and hope that you can support me, even with the smallest contribution, so I can provide my children with the most basic necessities of life.

I was displaced with my children to my family's house, tears in my eyes. On the way, Salah Al-Din Street was bombed, and the Israeli occupation committed horrific massacres. By the grace of God, we survived for the first time. We lived in terror and fear. A few days later, my family's house was bombed, and we were pulled out from under the rubble, miraculously surviving for the second time.

When my husband heard the news that we had died, he came to bid us farewell, only to find us alive by God's grace. We returned with him, but as the situation worsened and the fire belts in our area increased, we started to flee again and again, not knowing where to go next.

I beg of you to share my story and help me continue to live.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #230 )✅️

Vetted by butterfly nu #1133

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[heritageposts]

I'm writing again to spotlight the GFM campaign of @nourfamily1989, a mother of five in Gaza.

If you've been following Nour's story, you probably already know that last month was very difficult for her and her family. It began with Nour being injured in a bombing, and ended with the family being displaced yet again, this time to an area even more crowded than the last so-called "safe zone."

Now her oldest son, Muhammad (13), has started bleeding from his ear, and Nour is worried he might lose his hearing if he can't get medical treatment soon.

In her post about Muhammad, she writes:

We faced endless suffering for 11 months. With the continued bombing day and night. We kept wondering when this nightmare will end????? Do you still hear our cries?? To those who have compassion. Don't abandon us.

Let's do whatever we can to make sure that Nour does not feel like she's being abandoned. If you can, please donate; if not, then help by sharing.

Donation link (GFM)

For info about how Nour's fundraiser has been vetted and organized, see this post by @/killy.

The goal for Nour's campaign is now to reach the next milestone of $25,000. For every 5k we raise, we're one step closer to ensuring her entire family will be able to evacuate if the Rafah crossing should reopen in the near future.

Currently: $20,991 / $25,000

Total GFM goal: $90,000