I'm Pretty Sure The Weight Of A Cat Laying On My Lap Would Fix Me Right About Now. That Or To Just Be

As if there were any doubt..

That being said, I'm pleased that our blogs crossed paths. I enjoy seeing your posts on my dash so I am at least a little familiar with your source. Just a bit.

Okay, I keep reading a lot of your dreams, how they're about you being some sort of cryptid monster. I see in your pinned post that you have a feeling (one of) your source(s) is horror and that you also doomed souls and came from a bad timeline or something.

This is a really long shot- especially since this source isn't finished yet, but it has timeline splits and a demon that steals and eats souls, with the help of yours truly. (Also the demon can see the future so, like, that's pretty cool)

Though, I could just be putting my own want of finding my canon demon onto you, but... 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anyway, at the current time source is 5 hours long with all endings and secret dialogue. It's like $15 on Steam but free to watch by Faz Faz on YouTube.

CW for like... All the typical stuff you'd see in gothic and psychological horrors, though.

-Ashley Graves (from the Visual Novel/Puzzle Solving RPG: the Coffin of Andy and Leyley)

Well, I certainly feel like a demon. The detail of it having premonitions of the future does speak to me, now that you mention it. I'm not sure if it's kin shifts, but often during and directly after dreams, I get this feeling. 

It wriggles its way into my brain and gives me this sense of knowing, this sense of how things are or will be.. and then when it's done shifting things into focus, it just bleeds out of me, leaving me wanting more. It leaves me feeling less than human. If these words sound familiar to you at all, then I may owe an apology to one Ashley Graves from a doomed timeline. We will soon see-

Hey!! i stumbled across your blog (or you across mine lol) and i wanted to wish you luck on your fictionkin/otherhuman journey!

I’m fictionkin myself but i have a bit of a weird relationship with past memories or lives etc etc so i’m not sure i can help much on that front, but as for your unknown source, could it maybe be Supernatural? I’m a Dean Winchester kin and it sounds like your memories could be pretty parallel to SPN themes???

Thank you so much for reaching out to me. I have heard of the source material, and I won't deny there is a fair bit that lines up. Truth be told, the concept of horrors hiding amongst the mundane monotony of everyday life is something that speaks to my very soul, and the theme of trying to track down said horrors in the first place. I have and probably still will look deeper into it in order to find familiarity. 

Okay because I have no idea, how does House of Leaves work?

It’s a book about a guy stuck in a hellish version of a 90s stereotype who finds an academic paper about a documentary film about a home that is bigger on the inside than it should be. Except that the home isn’t a real home. The documentary doesn’t exist. The academic has no credentials.

It’s a book about a guy who finds an unfinished novel his neighbor died in the middle of writing about a photojournalist who puts aside his career to save his marriage but who gets sucked into an adventure within his own home.

Except that it’s none of those things. It’s an assault on the reader. It’s a crowbar thrown in your confidence in The Consensus. Its (404) errors in the directory of Narratives.

The House is older than God. The House is God. The House is nothing. The House is a 5 letter word in a blue font.

The House doesn’t like tourists

It’s a typographical horrorshow. It’s a caricature of an analysis of a documentation of a map. It’s an Atlas of The Backrooms. It’s a non-Euclidean document. It’s the only book I’ve ever hissed at.

“How does it work?”

It doesn’t

jules, i just gotta let you know that its always a Delight reading what you have to say. the way you talk is so captivating, please never change <33333

I appreciate, and reciprocate this sentiment. In our interactions thus far, you've been incredibly helpful, and in truth I've been having a bit of a rough time with this.. “not asking others about memories” thing. I guess some part of me is more dependent on the social interaction than I'd originally thought. So thank you for reaching out to me, it means a lot

i stalk my mutuals like they are specimen in a lab

Hi Jules! How are you doing? Happy Easter!

-Leyley

Hello Ashley, a welcome face on my dash as of usual--

Things have gone considerably well, I have no complaints. I have more thoroughly investigated your source so, if you ever wish to discuss the finer details of your experiences, you know I'll always be here listening.

Happy Easter

The Eye At The Bottom of Emerald Coast

This post is an update to where I have been for the last 2 weeks. I plan to write everything that I experienced, everything I heard, everything I saw– in excruciating detail for me. For my own peace of mind, so if you are perturbed by talk related to medical emergencies or long winded explanations about things as trivial as my feelings, then feel free to turn away. I won’t fault you for it, but this post is going up all the same, because I feel like this moment in my life meant something. It had to.

So, what happened? I'm just going to rip the bandage off and say, I had a cardiac event at work, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. I don't like having to share this because I feel like I always have something dramatic happening in this disaster of a life I've built for myself. I thought moving from my hometown and getting a medical degree was supposed to make my life more stable, but the groundwork I've created is crumbling around me, and the fall from grace started with a workplace argument. “I don't get why you don't trust us, we have been so nice to you, and yet you keep pulling this shit-”

“Look, I can't just turn trust on like a switch, Larry. If I could, I would just to get you off my back but don't sit there and lie to me. I know you all have been talking about me in secret. What was it about? Is it because of what I said about the freezer room? Is it- oh my god, did you find out why I left my last job?” I panicked, but the look on Larry's face told me that it was not information he was privy to… yet. “I do not think it's a coincidence that you all suddenly fall silent the second I enter the room. So am I just being paranoid or do you have something you want to tell me?”

“You're just being paranoid!!” He throws his hands up with his shouted exclamation, several people glance over at us. “Look, dude… Okay, we have talked a little bit but only because we're worried about you!” I raised an eyebrow of disbelief. “Seriously? After we invited you out to grab drinks with us, you still don't think we're friends?”

“I…don't  know what I think.”

I could feel the tension rising up in the back of my throat, like bile. Everything in the room pulsed as I took in a shaking breath, but Larry just pushed on. “Why are you so damn negative? I just don't get it, man. You know when you aren't going on about how the world is awful, you're actually fun to talk to-”

“Listen, bad always happen to me- I'm just reporting the facts,”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about-! Nobody is out to get you! I like you, Julius! I like you!” and I tried to say something in rebuttal but… I threw up right there at the table with no warning…and it was pure black, the texture gelatinous and bitter. I thought about how someone had told me once that black vomit is a tell towards a serious health issue and that you are close to death- and I know that's because of the coffee ground appearance of vomit during a gastrointestinal bleed, I know that, okay?  I could tell that wasn't what this was because it was downright acrylic looking in consistency,  but it was too late, the fear that I was dying was already firmly planted in my head. I could feel the prickle of eyes on me, making me feel even more panicked. “Oh shoot, let me go get some paper towels,” Larry said, but Gilbert was already making strides over to the paper towel roll on the counter in the breakroom. My head was swimming, and my shoulder began to throb so hard that it trailed up the side of my neck and that just freaked me out even more.That must've been when I lost consciousness, because I don't really recall much afterwards. I think Larry might've tried to coax me out of my seat, saying; “Okay, let's get you sitting on the ground before you pass out.”but besides that, it's a blur. All I wanted was to stand up and shake it off, and show them that everything was alright– but it was like I was trying to keep my head above water when the waves were crashing all the same, silencing my cries for help and pulling me under. I fought it the whole way down.

For a painful moment, it was just dark, and the only thing I was conscious of was that feeling where you've been dropped from a great height, that rush of adrenaline in a quick pulsing ’thump!’ and then I was far under the currents of emerald bay. The water was dark and rich, and it overwhelmed all my senses. It was all encompassing, in a terrifying way that made it impossible to tell which direction the surface was. For a second there it was nice because at least this felt constant, you know? It almost felt safe, in a way that was terribly deceptive. 'Thump!' There was something there, under the ocean floor. I couldn't see it, but it was there, its heartbeat shaking the tranquility of death.  I could feel it with absolute certainty. It made the sea pulse like a womb, and so I swam down towards the heartbeat that was drumming on, shaking the walls of my soul.

Because it's not fair. I played my whole life by the books. I kept my head down, I worked myself to the bone, and I always followed what was expected of me. I never put myself out there. As I kept kicking my feet, all I could think about was all the hobbies I repressed, all the people I could've kissed, all the things I could've brought into question- it wasn't fair. I wasn't supposed to die like this, never finding the closure I was searching for. I just wanted to understand who I am, I just wanted to know- was that really so awful? 

’Thump!’

And there it was, at the bottom of emerald bay, the thing that's haunted me, the explanation of my entire life looking right through me as if I wasn't merely my flesh. One, pulsing eye, flecked with the dark stars of infinite timelines and realities. I spent my whole life feeling lost, like I didn't know who I was, and now it was looking me right in the face like a macabre joke. I thought back to all that time I spent asking people about their experiences, and trying to selfishly fit myself into some space I could belong- the Supernatural kin community, the Madoka Magica kin community, the Mouth Washing kin community especially and it was all because of this thing. This thing I don't even understand. I wanted to, in spite of everything. I almost wanted to laugh at how bad it hurt…and because I have a sense of humor, as I reached out to stab into the pupil with my sharpened fingers, I thought to myself,

“I hope this hurts”

Some things about going into cardiac arrest at 24 years old; I recovered faster than expected. I could've been there for 16, 18 days… but I was only there for 11. Having all that stuff hooked up on me, especially the catheter, was sensory hell and so I made it everyone else's problem that I was feeling so rotten. That being said, I found myself not nearly as emotional about this experience. Surprising as that may be, it all felt sort of surreal. Like it wasn't me laying in that hospital bed but someone completely different. Oh, I hated that more than anything. You know what the real kicker was? They said it was triggered by stress. That I should be more careful when viewing horror content, among other things. Imagine the one thing that brings you joy. Imagine the climax of your absolute euphoria, a high that knocks you away from the woes of reality, your favorite food, your favorite song. Imagine asking a question, and never getting to live to hear the answer, no you've been condemned to ignorance. It was as if they just told me I was going to be living off saltines for the rest of my life. It was like they defanged me. Naturally I dealt with it in my usual healthy coping mechanisms- being an insufferable prick. 

Consider this a footnote, but-

The thing that pushed me over the edge in the end is confusing and because I don't understand it, I feel almost embarrassed to admit the amount of pain it doled upon all my senses. It was one of the nurses, the way she smelled. Over all that sterile cleaner and sour dread from the hospital, somehow I could make out notes of chamomile and bergamot as she whisked away with a clipboard in hand, and suddenly I was struggling to keep my composure, because I

Why? Why was this happening? Why was I doing this here, where someone could see me? Sure, no one was in the room but I could feel the prickle of eyes at the back of my neck. I was already in the throes of a nervous breakdown though, I could feel the lump in my throat forming and suddenly I wished I hadn't gone and pushed away anyone who even looked at me kindly. 

If I kept going down that train of thought, I'd surely embarrass myself. I mean– it's  not as if I've never had a cup of tea before, or had the pleasure of smelling a lit bergamot candle. For some reason, the warmth in it together just knocked the wind out of me. How do you process grief if you don't even know why you're grieving? So I just sat there, swallowing convulsively and thinking about the fact that I built my walls so high, that nobody visited me in this god forsaken hospital over the holidays. ’Well, that's not fair, maybe they visited early when I wasn't conscious and they just got turned away because they weren't family’ I try to tell myself, but deep down I know nobody tried because I really am that unlikable of a person. It's not even something I've learned, it's been like this ever since I was a child. If I just keep telling myself it's all of this is worth it, then maybe one day it will be. I just have to keep clawing at the walls of this existence until I break through.

Hey there, I'm just tossing an idea out. But your memory-vibes personally remind me of the Zero Escape series. Spoilers incoming of course, but I know you don't mind: In the first one, a major character creates situations that do indeed cause a lot of suffering for people she deeply cares about in order to create a timeline where she survives. In the second game, she is revealed to have done something similar, but this time in order to try and save the world (more or less?) but in doing so, damns countless iterations of people she cares about, and herself, to doomed timelines. It's rather bleak. The third game takes place between the first two chronologically, but I have not personally played it.

So, I'm sort of suggesting Akane Kurashiki, but other characters from the series like Sigma, Phi, and Aoi might be worth looking into. Sorry if someone's already brought this game series up- feel free to ignore this if so!

This ... Actually explains a lot of the things I've been feeling as of late. Really-- I can't thank you enough for reaching out, I'll have to look a bit more into the source material, of course. And I'm also sorry for the late reply. I've been in the hospital the last 11 days, and I've just gotten home. (I'm planning to explain everything that happened there more in depth because I had some revelations but I didn't want to be rude and not answer)