Latest Posts by imitative-magpie - Page 4
A Dream About A Ghost
I wake up in a dark bedroom, standing in the farthest corners of reality- stop me if you've heard this one before. It's not the shadows that thread themselves in my corporeal form that surprises me, nor is it the way the room seems warped with some macabre version of what you'd see in the daylight, when your fears aren't taking the steering wheel to your mind.
No, it's the reaction of who I'm visiting that gives me pause for a moment. He's scared, yes. Just like the rest of them. His eyes are locked on me as his breath hitches in his throat.. but then his face smoothes in recognition. It's so jarring that it makes me pause, uncertain if I should continue on with what I set out to do, or if I should stay rooted to my spot like the ignoramus I am.
See, I had been under the impression that there were rules to this. I don't get to leave until I've played my part, and they can't leave until they play theirs. It's why they lay there paralyzed while I stick my fingers into their eyes. Most importantly though, is that we can't speak. And yet he looks at me with fond eyes and says, “Which one of him are you? You've visited before.”
I feel deeply ashamed, like I should remember visiting him, but I don't. There's been times that I suspected I had these dreams and yet all I remember are vague shadows and screams when I wake up. He must've just been lost in that haze, because I'm trying to recall his memories, and I'm coming up with nothing. I want to ask him just how many of ’me’ are there out there? Who are you? But my tongue is weighed to the bottom of my mouth.
So I settle for the next best thing, and wade in, closer. At this, he winces slightly, and I realize he knows exactly what I'm going to do to him, and as easy as it can be to lose myself to this… thing, this headspace I get into.. It's hard when he's reminding me that there's a part of me that's still human. I stare him over; the way his throat seems to twitch lightly with his breathing, the way he's watching me close in on him, like I'm nothing more than a tide coming into shore. He gives me a sad smile, but these waves are crashing all the same. I lift my hand over his face, and take a second to drink in his expression, hoping maybe somehow he'll do something to stop me.
He doesn't. He just smiles and says, “I know you have to.” And I do, so I plunge my finger down into the pupil, and let myself break down into the quickening of his pulse again.
It's all so hazy, like when you move a polaroid camera too much before taking a picture, but through that haze I can see that our gaze is deadlocked ahead to the water’s edge. The wind is howling, so much that I almost don't hear the faint calling of a name carrying over the crashing of waves against large broken down black rocks that speckle the shores. My gaze stays locked on the horizon, and there's nothing for a sickening moment. There's just the chill of the fog dense air weighing me down. I feel like a bug stuck in molasses, and it just doesn't seem fair.
This guy, he tried so hard just to keep his head above water, to do the right thing and now he is trapped here, doomed to watch his life pass him by in a cave of his own making- and could anyone blame him? For letting the emptiness swallow him whole, when he had nothing but good intentions? The chill sinks down to my bones, and yet he doesn't shiver, he's just perfectly still. Like a picture. His breath is slow, but he's in shock, and he's just staring dead ahead, ignoring the calling of his name over the quietness of what could be forever. Could I be stuck here forever? If I stay trapped in this memory, in this body will I ever reach a point where I'm found and the nightmare is over, or will it go on and on until it feels dull and empty?..
There's a part of me that looks forward to these dreams. It feels healing. It gives me life and meaning, but this? I couldn't watch this, it was too much. So I tried despite everything to get him to move. It doesn't work like that though, It's a memory. I can't change the course of a memory no matter how much I try, and I was still trying to kick and scream through the waves that were weighing down my body. We aren't too different, this man and I, because he too is somewhere deep under the sea. Something is holding him there, and while it may not be the eye of god, we're still being held there by the very same thing- fear. This man truly might be doomed, I had to claw at the walls of this grave he's found himself in, and steal him from this fate before he was lost to the sands of time.. and I was shouting despite everything, despite it going against my very nature,
“Don't be afraid..! Don't be afraid!”
I, of course, woke myself up. I was crying in my sleep, which took me aback because usually when I have these dreams, I feel like adrenaline is lighting me up, and the acrid taste of fear in the back of my throat- I didn't taste anything. All I got from this dream was a profound sense of loss.
Hello, we apologize for the inconvenience. I am Farah from Gaza. I am the eldest daughter of my family. I lost my sister in this war and I do not want or lose like anyone else. I want to move them to a safe place and provide them with basic needs such as food, clothes, and safe housing. I need your help in spreading my campaign and supporting it until it reaches the largest number of donors. 🥺🙏🫂 https://chuffed.org/project/115344-help-farah-support-her-family
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PSA
The entire city of Richmond, VA (where I live) and some surrounding areas are currently having a water crisis after the city'ss water treatment plant failed.
~300,000 people are without safe drinking water. About half of that are without water at ALL. People can't shower, wash their hands, or flush the toilet. We have three major hospitals all without running water.
No estimates for when water will be restored exist. The city is not communicating with us at all. The governor, WHO LIVES IN THE CITY, hasn't said a word about it. National Guard, FEMA, nobody has been mobilized to support us. It's not getting any media coverage outside of our local news.
If you can, please share the word so there's more attention to this. There's so many people in danger here, especially those in vulnerable condition like patients or the elderly who are at risk of death, and we need some noise to be made about this.
Please share and thank you if you can <3 Also, if you are around Richmond or know anyone in Richmond, please see what you can do to offer water to those in need in the city, or reach out to your Richmond friends to see if there's anything you can do for them. We're having like three hours long water distribution in two locations every day and it's not enough.
EDIT Jan 8, 2025: UPDATE!
The neighboring county (henrico county) had their systems contaminated with our water, so now ~600,000 people are without clean and safe drinking water. Potable water trucks have been deployed to hospitals and water distribution centers have been set up, but everything is still scant.
It has been 3 days. This is still going.
PLEASE KEEP SHARING, MAKING NOISE, CHECKING ON YOUR FRIENDS! AND DONATE TO ANY VALID RELIEF FUNDS YOU SEE!
Recovery has been a bit difficult. I worry that with each time that my body breaks down and develops more issues, it becomes harder for people to overlook and I become more difficult to love- which I know of course when I write it down that it's a terribly stupid, and ableist thought.
I would never think such things about someone else in my position, but when I haven't put words to that gut feeling and it only has to be directed inwards I worry about it on a near visceral level. It keeps me awake at night. Nobody could love what I've gone and become. This is too much for anybody. I'm even too much maintenance for myself
Omen
If you've read my blog, why I reblogged this self explanatory
Thank you so much for sharing. In truth I was a little worried my post would not be well received, but I just wanted to let you know that even with the difficulties that you experienced, you still came out on top and became a remarkable person, not because of the pain but in spite of it.
You are a wonderful person, and I am so glad to have known you.
Do Memories of Your Religious Upbringing Leave You Feeling Afraid?
Do you know the story of the city of sodom in the bible? You know, in Genesis 19? You know how angels warned Lot and his family to flee the city and not look back? How in the end they were riding out of the city as it was being destroyed, but the wife could not help but look back, and was turned into a pillar of salt as punishment? That story upset me terribly as a kid. It seemed so cruel, and just for what? That sick feeling in your gut that makes you watch on even though you know you shouldn't?
I mean, I know now why it upset me so much. I would've looked too. It's absurd--
Not the other wild claims that were preached to us, interpretations rather than written word, while we all sat there drinking in the words like they were absolute. It was the damn pillar of salt that got me, that just ate me up inside. I can't help myself, I have to look. Every time. It's a real damned if I do, damned if I don't situation and all my life I've been told this ache to reach into the unknown horrors is wrong.. at least until I moved, anyways.
How could a deity punish something as wonderful as free thinking? Or curiosity? These stories make me wonder where the real harm was, or was it just simply another story to inspire fear in the hearts of men from as long back as fear possibly existed.
I want to be divorced from the inner child in me that still deep down believes it, and is half is expecting to be struck dead for breathing life to such thoughts
And then there's the thought that's just outside of my periphery of "Oh, well what would you do of you had that level of power, Jules? Hmm?" And that just makes my brain buzz with anxiety because I know I'd doom us all.
https://www.tumblr.com/imitative-magpie/772060837922979840/hello-there-my-family-needs-to-leave-gaza-out-of
magicalmilkshakecrown / Irine Temoi is a documented scammer profiting off of the genocide. some usernames they have previously used to run this scam are reallyuniquedaze, herunknownwolf22, slowlydeliciouscrusade, futuristicglittermilkshake, slowlywisesong, darkkoalalight, mortallypurplebread, foggyblazekitten, beautifulsheepblaze, atomicfoxdaze, scentedfarttree, severetyrantllama, joyfulpostnight, zealoussublimefart, massivepersonagardener, and countless others.
some previous names they have used on their paypal accounts linked through these tumblr blogs have been Kipkosgei Cheruiyot, Jeff Owino, Titus Muhitsi, Iyvon Wabuyele, and Hezron Onyango
https://www.tumblr.com/kyra45/751911792270278656/hello-there-my-family-needs-to-leave-gaza-out-of
https://www.tumblr.com/average-transfem-robotgirl/748870367236521984/hello-there-my-family-needs-to-leave-gaza-out-of
https://www.tumblr.com/anonthescambuster/761993746326994944
here you can see another proven tumblr scammer, stupendoustyphoonhottub, also using this exact same linktree and Irene Temoi paypal account that magicalmilkshakecrown now uses: https://archive.is/YKTIC
would you mind deleting their scam from your blog, or clearly labeling it as a scam so it doesn't spread to others? please remember you can use the tumblr search box to search the username/paypal account name/text used by people asking for money to check if they’ve been proven to be a scammer
Thank you for bringing this to my attention, anon.
Do Memories of Your Religious Upbringing Leave You Feeling Afraid?
Do you know the story of the city of sodom in the bible? You know, in Genesis 19? You know how angels warned Lot and his family to flee the city and not look back? How in the end they were riding out of the city as it was being destroyed, but the wife could not help but look back, and was turned into a pillar of salt as punishment? That story upset me terribly as a kid. It seemed so cruel, and just for what? That sick feeling in your gut that makes you watch on even though you know you shouldn't?
I mean, I know now why it upset me so much. I would've looked too. It's absurd--
Not the other wild claims that were preached to us, interpretations rather than written word, while we all sat there drinking in the words like they were absolute. It was the damn pillar of salt that got me, that just ate me up inside. I can't help myself, I have to look. Every time. It's a real damned if I do, damned if I don't situation and all my life I've been told this ache to reach into the unknown horrors is wrong.. at least until I moved, anyways.
How could a deity punish something as wonderful as free thinking? Or curiosity? These stories make me wonder where the real harm was, or was it just simply another story to inspire fear in the hearts of men from as long back as fear possibly existed.
I want to be divorced from the inner child in me that still deep down believes it, and is half is expecting to be struck dead for breathing life to such thoughts
And then there's the thought that's just outside of my periphery of "Oh, well what would you do of you had that level of power, Jules? Hmm?" And that just makes my brain buzz with anxiety because I know I'd doom us all.
Hello,
Help me share my latest artwork, describing one of the situations I went through during this war
Help us spread awareness about suffering in war, please 🙏
I hope you will Reblog and Donate to support my family to survive.
My New Post LINK
Thanks a lot 🌹🌹
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Thank you for the tag, fallen- starlight. Here I go, showing off exactly the type of literature I consume..
@fallen--starlight @quinnlistspeaks @bohemianrpdsy @anothershottotryagain @jellybean-sys
Blorbo Poll
Rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.
Tagged by @powersuitup. Probably very predictable picks for anyone who knows me but whatevs.
NP tagging @tweetthang96, @coolnerdyrn, @kayliemalinza, @raaorqtpbpdy, and @thephilosophersapprentice.
I'm pretty sure the weight of a cat laying on my lap would fix me right about now. That or to just be put in the medieval torture rack until my back problems are fixed- it's a 50/50 split on my hierarchy of needs
Do You Remember The Time You Got Lost In The Supermarket?
You were a child then, so your memories are muddled. Your perception is warped- of course it is. It starts off simple, with you wandering off. Or maybe you looked away for just a moment, and when your concentration was broken from what you were looking at, you suddenly found yourself alone.
However you got yourself in this position, the outcome is the same; You've been condemned to an eternity of wandering aisles in hopes of finding familiarity where there is none, as the crowds of tall faceless- nameless strangers rush by, making you feel more and more claustrophobic by the second. You have no hope, it's been crushed into tiny pieces under the abstract concept of setting and its permanence.
I would like to propose the idea that maybe, not knowing your identity but still being plagued by memories is similar to being lost in the supermarket. You feel as though you'll be in an endless free fall. I know it seems impossible to stop all of this confusion and frustration–
But this downward spiral doesn't have to be forever. We have a beautiful community, of those just waiting to take your hand and guide you out. I think the alterhuman community is a second chance for us to find ourselves. We've just got to be brave enough to admit that we were lost in the first place.
am the anon who sent the magnus archives. if it's anything the green you use is similar to the magnus archive's green. i don't personally think it's jon because you're posts doesn't read asshole like he is but well, i don't really know you in real life so who knows.
You know, it's funny. I have gotten a lot of suggestions for the magnus archives as of late, not just on tumblr but in other fictionkin communities as well. I'm going to lay everything out on the table and be completely honest here. I took a glance at the source material, and it felt like it might actually fit what I've been feeling. I made this blog with the intent of getting answers, of righting some terrible wrong that I have felt echoes of my whole life. I should be so thrilled that something seems familiar to me..
So, why don't I just listen to it? A part of me likes how so many people have suddenly come to my dms to tell me their experiences and memories related to their identities, and for a moment it's like we're sharing something together. They were all so nice to me. It feels like a genuine connection, if even for a moment- and I guess the feeling was so nice that I forgot the original thing I had sought after in the first place.
So I have so many helpful suggestions saying to look into the magnus archives, and I'm scared if I roll the dice and happen to land on a source that I can kinfirm, it'll all go away. Or worse, that after so many people have suggested it, if I go and rule it out they'll be disappointed.
I wasn't expecting to make friends, when I created this blog. Maybe it's selfish of me to want things to stay the same, or maybe this isn't even making any sense, but I really do appreciate everyone who has written to me. Does anyone else feel this sort of anxiety when they interact with sources they could possibly be from? Feel free to reach out.
Nooo seriously I agree with the one anon who suggested tma! Like the way you talk is giving serious Jon Sim vibes you got to check out the podcast, stat❤️❤️❤️
I take it you feel strongly on this matter? I'll bump the source material up in my list of stuff to look into just for you, anon.
As a treat.
A Small Infodump about Spider Venom
Look, I know the doctor said I need to take it easy and not work myself up but-
Is it really that bad that I'm currently compiling a list of different spider venoms and their myriad of effects, along with categorizing different species of spiders to what venom they inflict? I believe a wise man once inquired, "Can't a girl have hobbies?" . Of course we all know the big four categories–
There is Phospholipase D, a venom that interacts with different cellular membrane components, degrades phospholipids, and generates bioactive mediators. This can cause damage to the tissue through necrosis, as well as blistering near the bite. The recluse spider is one of the most well known arachnids to have this venom.
Alpha Latrotoxin, stimulates uncontrolled exocytosis of neurotransmitters from nerve terminals, causing paresthesia, seizures and myocarditis, which always brings up the image of the infamous black widow spider, with her striking hourglass abdomen.
The Delta Atracotoxin wielded by my personal favorite- the black sydney funnel web spider (did you know that a sydney funnel web spider is capable of biting through a human fingernail?) slows the inactivation of sodium ion channels in autonomic and motor neurons. This can cause circulation failure as well as excess salivation, nausea and disorientation…
And of course the less talked about PhTx 3-4, a calcium channel blocking toxin that also stimulates the nervous system, causing nausea, hypertension, and change in arterial flow in parts of the body.
There's just something about insects and arachnids and all of it as a whole that peaks my curiosity, that runs borderline close to familiarity. I mean, how about I turn the topic at hand onto you all– anyone who would like to share their favorite bugs and why, feel free.
Better yet, why not make it a poll?
If I may also give a recommendation for sources; the SCP Foundation, and a bunch of its canons, have a ton of 'doomed timeline' stories. I am specifically more versed in the Church of the Broken God and Sarkicism groups of interests, but I would also recommend looking into the O5 Council as what you have described may align more with them.
-@sssssaarn
I apologize for the late reply, I wanted to take a proper amount of time answering this one because truth be told, I had a bit of SCP phase back in the early 2010s, and of course I happened to take a peek into the fandom once again when liminal space aesthetics and ‘The Backrooms’ rose to prominence. I remember back yesteryear, how my peers would all sit around one kid while they played the game and desperately wishing for that kind of kinship, but I digress. There is something that certainly allures me about the SCP fandom as a whole. The aesthetic, but also the anomaly classification system.The idea of bringing order to something so naturally chaotic really intrigues me. All you need to do is just look at one symbol in the classification system and you immediately know what source material you’re interacting with.. Thank you for the recommendation, I certainly will consider it.
the magnus archives?
Hello anomalous speaker from the void, I appreciate you reaching out to me as a guiding light. I actually have had this source recommended to me before by someone, so I will certainly take note of it, and look into the content at a later date. I have the time now, seeing as I'm not allowed back into work until I've recovered..
Hello👋
I hope this message finds you well. 🌷
I’m reaching out with a heavy heart, asking for
your support for my family, who are facing harsh conditions due to the ongoing war in Gaza 🕊️🇵🇸. We are struggling to survive, and I’ve launched a GoFundMe campaign to provide safety and basic needs. 🙏
Every share or donation, no matter how small, can make a huge difference. Your support can turn our pain into hope. 🌟
Could you please share my campaign post from my profile? It only takes a moment but would mean the world to us. 🫶
Thank you for your kindness and humanity. Together, we can make a difference. ❤️✨
🌷https://gofund.me/f6d17b3e🌷
-
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)
URGENT HELP SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD
Dear humanity,
Please Help Me – My Son May Die at Any Moment.
I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. 🍉
Here’s my story, and I’m reaching out with a hopeful heart 💔✨, hoping someone will feel what my family and I are going through.
My son is suffering from a severe and life-threatening injury after being shot by Israeli drones. He urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.
Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others
I beg you, i kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment
I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .
So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog my post.
Please Donate now:👇👇 👇
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Thank you for your compassion and kindness
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What a coincidence, it seems we have some mutuals in common
@galactic-inhabitants @quinnlistspeaks @lionesscersei @bohemianrpdsy @anothershottotryagain @apocalypticautumn @beezabub @electromahougnetic @actualamadeus @birdiestbugbuddy @jellybean-sys @routetoroadkill @revekdoesstuff @volatilisdeviant @wildernezz
positivity train!
if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!
@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback
This Is The End Of The World
Can you feel the earth turning slower than it ever had before? So much has happened over the last couple of years, and the weight is almost too much. We’ve seen war, and illness. We’ve watched a fool become king to this country, and the changing of the seasons that is no doubt melting down the icecaps- hell, we even gained a second moon in September. It’s enough to make anyone begin to worry if this is downright biblical.
I remember during my childhood, the idea of an apocalypse being just on the horizon of our lives was something so often talked about. It was spoken about as if it were a concrete fact, and that one day everything we hold near and dear was going to burn in hellfire. What stuck with me most though,was how they would talk to us children, about how we had to be strong, and how we were so special. About how we wouldn't let our minds be poisoned by those outside of the community. Now I’m 24 years old, and I’m living far away from my hometown… and still, the earth continues to turn, my heart is still beating.
I try to remind myself that I’m different now, and that I can look at things from a less coerced mindset. The fear is always there though, burning white hot in my lungs. I think about my poor grandmother, on her deathbed, how she looked me in the eyes and said, “You aren’t Jules...who are you?” Her last moments, I think about often whenever I think about the end of the world.
Maybe the earth ended long ago, in another timeline far from this one. Maybe everyone we’ve ever loved, every fear we ever hated- maybe it all went up in smoke and we can’t remember it because remembering would mean enduring the fear all over again. Sometimes times I think I can feel a tension thick in the air, like I’m running out of time, and a million breaths gasp in fear all at once, all over the globe- and that feeling terrifies me because I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I may have played a hand in it.
Can you feel that tension? Can you feel the earth’s blood and hunger? Well, maybe we can use this chance to turn things around. Let’s save the planet from itself, we have to be brave because we live in a world of constantly being frightened. They say it on our televisions, in articles and books that we should be afraid of our future and that things look grim, but I think there’s still hope for us yet. We just have to take matters into our own hands, and make this world worth living in, a little at a time. We can fix this. It’s our last chance to forgive ourselves.
I Have Never Been A Hero
I’ve had time to reflect upon my dream, and it has led me to some revelations about my own nature, and what lines I’m willing to cross in order to find the truth I’m so desperately craving. I think that the reason the dream bothered me so much is that I don’t know if I would’ve done differently if I had another chance. I have never been a hero.
I wanted to once, you know–
Even before I had so many wonderful tumblr users trying to help me find my identity, even before I put it out there into the universe with absolute certainty that I was a villain, people have always compared me to the antagonist of the story.
It's a vibe I'm giving or something I'm doing, maybe it's the sins I carry on my back.
I remember reading all these books as a child, and even when I outgrew them and I'd be loathe to admit to what would indefinitely ruin the academic image I have so painstakingly built up around me like a shell- the classic fairytale story always held a special place in my heart.
I would sit there with my eyes scanning over every line, rereading the best parts, the ones that really made you feel like you were there with the protagonist, and I would think,
‘I want to be the hero. I want to save the princess from a tower and defeat the big bad and live happily ever after!’ …but I don't think I'm that. These things that I do, digging into the depths of people’s anxieties, and breathing them in as if it were my own.. I don’t think it’s a noble cause, to tear into other’s fears in hopes of finding my own closure. So I’m not a hero.
People seldom are, it's rare to find that kind of excellence out in the world but even with all the signs pointing that I'm a villain, or a monster, or god forbid a world ender– it is flattering that so many people reached out to me, when my mood has been so low. There is something about hearing about so many wonderful stories of others that keeps me tethered, and for that I'm grateful to all of you. The beauty in your experiences is what makes everything worth it- both your triumph and strife. So please, bare with me. Even if I am a villain.
I really lovwe the vway you vwrite. Genuinely beautiful prose.
- @anothershottotryagain
Thank you, I appreciate it. It's funny, I used to get bullied for my manner of speech back when I was a child. Catholic school was a lawless warzone, but I digress... If anyone can find meaning or familiarity in my words then I'm glad, and I promise I'll keep writing until we uncover the truth behind this reality we all share together
I am ahmed from Gaza I hope you are well, my dear. Please help me. Our tent was flooded while we were sleeping in the streets. We have no shelter. I cannot provide winter clothes for me and my mother to protect us from the cold that has begun, and I cannot provide basic needs. Please help me. $50 is enough to buy a new tent and winter clothes. Please help me my dear. We live in very harsh conditions.conditions.https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-ahmed-and-his-family-survive-in-gaza-crisis
ahmed-gaza033's donation page is available on gofundme.com
A Dream About A Moose
I would like preface before we begin with the details of exactly what I dreamt the other night, that I am uncertain if this is in fact a memory or if it was simply a stress dream brought on by my anticipation of finals, and the steady balance of the different aspects of my life that all come to a head around the holidays. This is going to be a fairly dark read. It taps into the very real horrors of the waking world and yet it was abstract, and so odd in the way these concepts presented themselves. So if you're easily disheartened by themes of body horror, hunting, and losing your sense of self, it's best you turn away from this particular post. Last of all–
I'm aware how bad this looks for me if it is a memory. I'm aware I may lose some friends I've made online, but after talking it over with someone who gave me a new perspective to look at it from, I've decided I'm going to share anyway.
I remember it started off with me feeling dazed, like when you're lost in thought for a while and suddenly your focus is violently broken. The room was so dark that the shadows stretched and overlapped with each other, making ominous pulling figures that looked like they could snatch you at a moment’s notice.
The ceiling fan is nothing more than a dark star, churning the heavy, high tension that's in the room, a tension I almost don't understand…almost, until I saw her. She looked to be in her thirties, a mousey little thing with beige brown hair in messy curls around her crown. Her gaze is locked on me, and she is terrified. I mean it makes sense that this dream person would be scared; a random person showed up in her room, but even stranger is that she doesn't make a single move to get up and confront me, make a run for it, or show any self preservation. She just lays there, head propped up by an almost absurd amount of silken pillows, her eyes wide and nearly unblinking– like she's afraid if she does, something awful will happen.
It's then that I realize with a start that she should be scared. I'm here for a reason, and I'm only delaying the natural progression of this dream. I read a study once that said you cannot create a new face in a dream. Every face that appears in a dream is one you once seen and retained in the subconscious parts of your mind. Yet she seemed so real, and so distant in my memories. So I move closer. I don't know why, but I'm waiting for some sort of revelation. Like she’ll suddenly remember me, or maybe she'll tell me how she found herself in such a predicament in the first place. Most of all, I'm holding on for her words. I need it, like a damn second wind. I feel it like an ache in the pit of my stomach, and only she can make it right, if she just tells me why I'm here.
Why am I here, Cassandra?
Why am I here?
Instead, she just sucks in a sharp breath, in that way that makes the collarbone have more depth and prominence. I can see it in her eyes, she knows why I'm here. She stares up at me, her pupils trembling in the brown iris, the pallor of her face. I reach up my hand to her face- and really it's a wonder how I'm so calm during all this. I look at my hands.. I don't know if they're my hands. They look wrong. They don't look human, but of course I don't even have time to panic over such trivial things, when more important things are right in the room with me. So I gently wipe the stray tear that's running down her face, and then, I jam my finger right into the pupil of her eye, and watch my fingers melt down into the dark space, far off into fragmented realities we dare not revisit, for fear that history could repeat itself.
And then just like that, I'm in the woods. Have you ever heard of Golden hour? It's around the time when the sun is level with your eyes and everything is awash in yellow. It's actually one of the better times to hunt deer because deer often use the sun's position to their advantage. Deer will move into the setting/rising sun so any potential danger that could be dangerous ahead of them is silhouetted. I knew this because I was a deer hunter, and in fact I took so much pride in being a female hunter that I had several bumper stickers on my car referring to this fact.
..But that wasn't right… I am not a deer hunter, and I'm certainly not… but I look at my shaking slender hands, with chipped nude nail polish, and a wedding ring, and it's all true. More importantly, I am without my hunting rifle, and I'm running from something, farther and farther into unfamiliar territory. The woods are quiet, so deafeningly quiet, but somehow I was certain that I had not lost whatever was chasing me. My heart racing, I look around for somewhere to hide, and am only greeted by a vast sea of thin pines, with sparse branches. There is nowhere to hide. This is the last gasp of breath I give, while looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
But I'm not- Cassandra’s not ready to die. She watched her husband die to that thing, that stalks the treeline, that may have once called itself a moose. She wasn't going to let it kill her too, not without a fight…but the hunting rifle was gone, and I was greatly outmatched in terms of strength. Have you ever seen a normal, average moose angry? Do you even know how much they weigh? I feel my breath hitch in the back of my throat in a sort of frenzied crescendo, when my eyes finally lock on a smattering of large, jagged rocks there hidden amongst the trees, on the incline of the mountain. Cassandra was definitely small enough to squeeze between the rocks. All she needed was to arm herself. So that's what she did, she frantically did a once over the forest floor before finally grabbing a sturdy enough fallen branch, and wedged herself in between the rocks, sitting low with her knees up, her back pressed against the rocks as she tried to control her breathing.
Somehow she knew the moose was watching her, she could feel its sour breath on her soul, hunting her, ready to take back from her what she had taken from the forest’s precious ecosystem. As dusk settled into a burning red in the last dying light, the malnourished outline of the moose took form. The moose was malnourished, yes. That much is true, but it was large, and it's limbs seem to bend in ways a moose’s legs should not be able to, the knees going back farther and farther as it drunkenly stumbled amongst the trees, eyes glowing in it's feverish search for Cassandra, who was now holding up her stick in a position to strike.
The blood of her husband still stained the moose, the matted coat clotted in dark red and made a macabre crown around his head. The beast’s lips curled into a snarl revealing the sharp teeth of a carnivore, much like a big cat’s or even a bear. The moose began to circle the boulders, nose snuffling as it took in the bursting embers of Cassandra's mounting dead, and as the moose slipped out of her line of vision between the gap in the rocks, time seemed to stop. Every second seemed an eternity, as twilight slipped slowly into night like a forming bruise. I watch the sun set, as the eye of our tormenter eclipses our view, having finally found us-
And then Cassandra is screaming me awake, screaming as if she was right back in that moment of being prey to something bigger than she could ever dream of being. She knows screaming is her only chance of being rid of me, and she's apparently right because that's when I woke up from the dream, having felt like she was so very real. Maybe it was bit naive, but I actually had to sit up and look to make sure I was in my room and not that dream. There was this sour acid taste in the back of my mouth too- and I downed about three glasses of water right there at the kitchen sink that night.
This dream has left me shaken and lost. That's not the right word though, lost. I know exactly where I am, but I'm so fragmented, so stretched thin that it can hardly count that I am here, right now. All I have is my words, and I hope that's enough for you.
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.