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russanogreenstripe · 6 months

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So many good moments in Ep 5 of Burrow's End, but this is the one that sets my mind buzzing the most. The idea that community predates identity. We know mama, dada, and baba before we know not only their names, but our own names. And in the season all about family, community, in-group versus outgroup? This feels like such an important idea, and it was came up likely on the spot. It's fascinating to think about, and touches on such big themes about Burrow's End in general.

My mind keeps trying to read "name" as "self," and come up with something like "we have to know others before we know who we are," but I think there's a fundamental error in that idea. Neurologically, we just start off with just "Me" - one of our basic senses is what is "Me" and what is "Not Me." That's fundamental to further categorization, and faults in that sense is where things like depersonalization / derealization come from. Names are just labels, and they're not even the first labels we have for them.

This ties into another point that a lot of people had when watching the trailer at the end of Ep. 4 and during the live reaction of Ep. 5 - the idea that because Sybil was so reluctant to say her brother's name after he died, that it was the result of some top-down oppression within Last Bast and further proof that it's not as idyllic as it seems. Now, Last Bast almost certainly isn't a utopia, and I'm sure we're going to learn more about that in the next episode. And it's possible that it is a top-down enforcement that Sybil, having been raised in Last Bast, has internalized. However, there's a chance this isn't the case.

Less than 30 seconds on Google turns up several cultures that have taboos around speaking the names of the dead - Aboriginal mortuary rituals, the Apache of the Southwest US, the Tolowa tribe of California, the Yanomami on the border of Brazil and Venezuela, certain Romani/Irish Traveller groups, and almost certainly more. While it initially seems unfathomable to Western cultural mores around remembering and memorializing the dead, it's just as possible possible that instead of a method of social control, it's simply a cultural taboo.

https://scholarblogs.emory.edu/gravematters/2017/04/18/aboriginal-mortuary-rituals/

And as Aabria has commented both during the live discussion and general discord channels,

Aabria's a smart cookie, and I trust that she's done plenty of worldbuilding and put tons of thought into how Last Bast's society works. We've seen she's great at her cultural analysis while in the DM's chair in both Misfits & Magic and in A Court of Fey and Flowers. Culture and society are interwoven in all of her games, and where does all that start? With family.

#dimension 20 #d20 spoilers #d20 #burrow’s end #burrows end #d20 burrow's end #erika ishii #surprise anthropology #damn this series is good

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lilislegacy · 2 months

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Demigods non-human.

•Absence of menstruation.

•Alarmingly high pain threshold.

•Tendency to Depersonalization-derealization disorder.

•Severe forms of PTSD.

•Too loving and affectionate. the loss of any loved one is perceived extremely hard.

•Creepy appeal. They are too beautiful to be something natural and alive.

•Fearlessness. hardly anything from the mortal world can redeem them.

•Abnormal physical characteristics. too fast, too strong, too agile.

•Most often slight tendency to sadism.

•Predisposition to handling weapons. They are too good at learning how to shoot and use cold steel.

thnks for the ask!

oooh! i love this. yes to all of these!!

my thoughts on a few:

i don’t think sadism applies to all of them, and if it does i don’t think it’s constant. but it definitely is a trait that can come out in them at times. it’s the god in them, especially if they’re a kid of one of the more brutal gods. and i think when it does happen, in most cases, it’s when they’re inflicting pain upon their enemies. but for the demigods that aren’t good people… yeah, sadism - in all its ways - is definitely a more present trait in them than it is with humans.

the menstruation thing. i feel like this has to be true. there’s no way female demigods are dealing with periods while they’re trying to stay alive and go on quests. but then i always question how they get pregnant if they don’t menstruate. but then i always remember how they’re all born and what they’re composed of, and that logic and science doesn’t apply to them lol. (do we think there’s a special demigod birth control? or does normal stuff still work?)

and 100% yes on the abnormal physical abilities and characteristics. they can definitely be thrown around and beat up a lot more. i find myself reading the books and saying things like “how did she not just die?” and “he should be majorly concussed with every bone broken right now.” they are way more agile, way stronger, and way faster than humans. they’re just built different. literally.

i’m gonna add a couple things:

i think demigods have a tendency to be taller. i’m not saying they are all tall - there are certainly exceptions; we know hazel and leo are short - but i think the overall average height for them is taller than it is for humans. for instance, according to google, the average female height is 5’3 and the average male height is 5’7-5’8. but for demigods, i think it’s normal for female demigods to be between 5’5 and 5’8, and for males to be 6 foot or above, you know? like i think full grown piper is 5’6, annabeth 5’10, thalia 5’5-5’7, etc. i think full grown percy is like 6’2 to 6’3, jason around 6’3, frank 6’5, luke 6’1 or 6’2, will 5’11-6’0, etc. i just think they’re naturally taller.

i also definitely think demigods have a slightly non-human look to them, but i don’t think it’s necessarily because they’re all beautiful. a lot of them are, definitely, but not every one. personally, i think it’s all in their eyes. i just feel like when rick describes them, there is always a lot of emphasis on the eyes. annabeth’s are this super unique and intimidating gray and they look like storm clouds, piper’s are multiple colors and look like kaleidoscopes, etc. and i think this especially applies kids of the big 3. like thalia and jason have electric blue eyes, percy’s are a super unique and vibrant sea-green, and hazel’s are literally gold. nico is the only exception having dark brown eyes, but i think they’re still super distinguishable and have a certain wickedness to them. i just think all demigods’ eyes are very unique, intense, and vibrant. their eyes are beautiful and stunning, but also very unsettling if they’re staring at you. that’s the feature that i think makes demigods look not quite human

i’m sure i’ll think of more as soon as i post this lol.

other ideas and opinions welcome!

#demigods #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percabeth #pjo #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #jason grace #thalia grace

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alljarnopickles · 3 months

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Look at the stars and the big black ink

Tell me what you feel and tell me what you think

Is it cold outside?

Another edit of @remedyturtles ‘s Death Wish as i continue to procrastinate studying for my linear algebra midterm :) all art used is mine! not my best work but the drawing Gods decree I obsess non stop :P

When I read this fic a over a year ago I was dealing with depersonalization and derealization due to an abusive relationship myself, and this fic brought me companionship and comfort <3 Thanks again to Rem for writing my favourite fic

#little kid with a big death wish #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #death wish #rise leo #rise donnie #rottmnt edit #rottmnt art #original art #rottmnt donnie #everyone who liked or reblogged my last edit ily thank you! I’m new to tumblr so it means so much akdhakhdjs

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ilexdiapason · 9 months

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(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

#reverse isekai au #itlwlore #martyn itlw #oli theorionsound #pirates smp #scurvyblr #vtuber martyn #ilexworks #cw derealization

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eclipse15 · 14 days

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A big part of integration is realizing that life outside of imagination is safe.

When we were kids we had little to no safety. My mom was so depressed she emotionally neglected me. I was bullied and groomed at school. I was sex trafficked when outside of the house. There really was no safety…except for in the mind.

I have, in the past, identified with what many would call an “IRL”. I didn’t know that was the term so I thankfully never got into that community, but I pretty much was one. I was Sans, I was my OCs, I was Frisk. I still do that. It helped me escape the horrors reality brought.

But as much as it helped me survive it also hurt my life. I couldn’t make any decisions outside of cued ones for a long time because I was so out of it I would drift through life, just walking laps around school and sitting in the hallways. Or not going to school at all since I was so stuck in my head I wouldn’t be able to leave my house.

I would also never take my harm or abuse seriously because I genuinely believed it was a character’s backstory. I’m not being emotionally abused by this person but (character) is. It got to the point I would have imaginary family and friends with imaginary conflicts completely independent from my actual life.

It’s been hard for me to recognize this as a problem as I’ve gotten so comfortable not being fully lucid. However when it became known to me that I had a dissociative issue, I slowly started to realize this amount of dullness in my life wasn’t okay.

I’m now acknowledging my derealization and using it to recognize when I’m dealing with stress or trauma, whether it’s already happened or not. Confronting my problems as a real person has not been easy, but in doing so we’ve begun what we’ve wanted since realizing our dissociation is a disorder: integration.

I can’t tell you how distressing yet heavenly integration is at the same time, and that’s not what this post is about anyways. This post exists because I hope by sharing this somebody will realize that it’s not only possible to be dissociated in this way but also possible to fight it. Because you can. You can heal.

Sorry if this was a bit all over the place. Hope this helped.

#⭐️#did alter #did osdd #osddid #polyfragmented #polyfrag #polyfrag system #actually mentally ill #endos dni #healing #trauma healing #ptsd #ptsd recovery

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sophieinwonderland · 4 months

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Is it common for r/systemcringe to get their posts from tumblr? Im scared to talk about my DID because what if they post it from here?

Occasionally they do... but so what?

Really, what is the absolute worse case scenario if they posted you there?

Unless you're visiting the sub, you probably won't even know about it. You also probably won't get any hate mail for it. They're not allowed to post names. If the sub started doing that, they would end up exactly like DIDcringe before them, slammed with a sub-wide banhammer straight from the admins.

There's nothing they could do to you even if they wanted to. They're powerless and they're scared.

I suppose they could fakeclaim you and then someone you know sends you a link to that post, and then maybe it could send you into a bit of a derealization spiral. But honestly, being fakeclaimed by people who know literally nothing about DID shouldn't even be that big of a deal. These aren't people you know nor are they people with any sort of authority or education on the matter. Most can't even be bothered to do a simple Google search or apply the slightest ounce of critical thinking to the things they fakeclaim for.

Personally, I consider getting on their radar a badge of honor.

Anyway, I wouldn't worry too much. They rarely even post about me, despite how frequently I tear their sub and their members apart.

Overall, I just don't think there's anything to be afraid of.

#syscourse #plural #plurality #sysblr #multiplicity #pro endo #pro endogenic #endogenic #systems #system #plural system #endogenic system #system stuff #systemscringe #r/systemscringe #actually plural #actually a system

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thewitchoftheweed · 11 months

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Candles in the Dark

The President of Narilamb, @furrycultfunnytime, has declared it to be Narilamb Day! Which means I’ve got an excuse to post this drabble instead of working on Red Star!

This work is now part of a multi-chapter fic on AO3!

CWs for: PTSD, panic attacks/nightmares, derealization, mentions of past hallucinations and delusions.

“Hey, I was thinking,” The Lamb says, trying to sound casual. “Why don’t you sleep in here tonight?”

Narinder pauses. He’s still sitting beside them in their bed, about to slip his robe back over his head. Over the past few weeks, they’ve settled into a routine. Narinder comes to visit them at their hut after dinner and sermon; they get intimate in some form or fashion, then Narinder leaves to go sleep in his own hut. They have tried on occasion to coax him into staying, but this is the first time they’ve asked directly. They feel oddly nervous as the question hangs in the air. Out there, amongst the cult, they’re the Lamb; but in here, with Narinder, they’re just Hamal.

“…I wouldn’t want to disturb you,” Narinder says after a long moment.

“You won’t disturb me, Nari.” Hamal wraps their arms around his torso and sets their chin on his shoulder. His fur smells like sex and sheep; they take odd satisfaction in that. “I don’t even really need to sleep; I just do it for fun. But it’s up to you.” They smile and nuzzle their face into his neck. “Nice warm cuddles or a long, cold journey back to your own bed…”

Narinder sighs, amused and exasperated at the same time. “Your eyes are entirely too big and too brown. It makes it difficult to say no to you.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” they laugh. Hamal can’t help it; their tail starts to wag.

“Mhm, but I can feel them,” he says, tilting his head towards them. They smile and pepper his cheek with light kisses, playfully trying to seal the deal. Narinder laughs softly. “Alright, alright. Mercy. I’ll stay.”

They let out an undignified happy bleat and squeeze him close. He tosses his robe back onto the floor. Hamal scoots to the side to make more room, then lies down with their heart fluttering in their chest. Narinder curls up with them; he rests his head on their chest and twines his tail around their leg. They wrap their arms around the black cat and snuggle close. He begins to purr. Hamal is convinced there’s some magic hidden in that soft reverberation; it makes even a god drift off to sleep in record time.

It’s warm underneath the blankets, especially with Narinder there. The low-burning candles cast one last burst of orange light onto the hut’s walls before they fade like a setting sun. Narinder’s purr begins to shift into a soft snore. They smile, close their eyes, and follow him into sleep.

When Hamal wakes again, it’s still dark out. They blink wearily and contemplate going right back to sleep, unsure what roused them to begin with. Then they feel it: Narinder twitches, so hard it’s like a full-body flinch. He’s still curled up against them, but every muscle is suddenly tense. His claws dig into their wool, holding on as though for life itself. He’s breathing hard.

“Nari…?” they say softly. Their hand hovers over his shoulder. Should they try to wake him?

Before they can decide, he screams.

Hamal tries not to flinch, but it’s so sudden and so loud they can’t help it. The movement wakes Narinder. He jolts upward, then claws and kicks off the blankets like they’re trying to suffocate him. He looks around, eyes wild, chest heaving. Hamal sits up, feeling nearly as scared and startled as Narinder looks. His red eyes scan the room, as if looking for something.

“Not real…” Narinder pants. He closes his eyes and cradles his head in his hands, claws digging into his own scalp. “Stop it stop it stop it, not real not real not real—”

“Nari, what’s going on?” He doesn’t answer them, but his ears flatten against the top of his head. His entire body trembles and he keeps muttering to himself. They don’t know what else to do, so they reach over and set a hand on his shoulder. “Nari, look at me, please.”

He tenses as they touch him, but it seems to break the strange trance. Narinder lowers his hands, no longer trying to hide his face, and slowly turns to look at them. There are tears in his eyes, along with something else they’ve never seen in Narinder: sheer terror. It takes them completely off-guard. Hamal aches to pull him into a hug and reassure him, but he’s shaking so badly they’re afraid one wrong move will make whatever this is significantly worse.

After a long moment, he asks, voice small and strained, “Is this real?”

“What? Of course it is,” Hamal says. But Narinder doesn’t look convinced. They suddenly remember what he said to them when they first laid together, when he fell asleep beside them in the woods: “It can be difficult for me to tell the difference between dream and reality when I first wake.” Hamal supposes that nightmares are even worse in that respect.

After a moment of him just staring at them, tearful and terrified, Hamal can’t stand it anymore. They reach out and gently grab one of his hands. They pull it toward them and set it on their wool. “Here, feel this. Real, genuine wool. Can’t get that just anywhere, these days.”

His fingers curl into the wool, as though testing to see if it’s really there. Narinder’s breath starts to slow down. Encouraged, they grab his other hand and set it on their own cheek. “It’s me, Hamal. Your Lamb. Remember?”

Narinder’s hands are still shaking, but he’s calming down. He no longer looks terrified of them, at least. His thumb traces the curve of their jaw. “My Lamb.”

“See?” They smile. “You’re ok. I’m right here; I’m real.”

He goes on staring at them.

Hamal sighs, their hands dropping back into their own lap. The fear is gone, but there’s confusion in Narinder’s eyes. Like Hamal is speaking a language he doesn’t understand, but he’s trying to. He’s there with them, but part of him is still lodged somewhere in the nightmare. They try to think of something to say, something profound, something that will convince him this is real.

Instead they blurt out, “I changed the whole hut so you would want to sleepover with me.”

Narinder blinks. “…what?”

“You kept dodging it every time I hinted you could stay the night, so I thought you didn’t like something about the hut.” In retrospect, it’s a bit silly. Narinder typically has no problem telling them when something isn’t cleaned to his standards or suited to his tastes. “I did it a little bit at a time so you wouldn’t notice I was doing it.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “Like what?”

“This was straw. Now it’s a featherbed.” They pat the mattress beneath them.

Narinder’s eyes follow their hand. He runs his own palm across the fabric. “…I thought I tore a hole in the old one.”

“I mean, a couple, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t mend. But then I thought, hey, I’m a god. Why not?” Hamal seems to have captured his attention, if nothing else. They keep going. “I also got a shitload of candles. An embarrassing amount, actually.”

That earns a real smile. It’s a small one, but it’s genuine and wholly Narinder. “How many is an ‘embarrassing amount candles’?”

“Do you really want to know?” Hamal asks.

He looks them up and down, skeptically. “…yes?”

They heave a sigh. Without another word, they hop off the bed and kneel beside it. Hamal reaches underneath and pulls out two boxes of a dozen plain beeswax candles, neatly stacked on top of each other.

“That isn’t so bad,” Narinder says.

They hold up a hand, indicating for him to wait, then pull out the other six boxes also stored beneath the bed. Narinder’s bewildered smile becomes one of genuine amusement. Hamal would love to pretend that’s it, but he asked, so they’ll continue to embarrass themself if it keeps him focused on them. “I suppose that is a fair amount of candles, but it’s not—”

“That’s not all of them,” they say, as solemnly as they can manage. They go over to the new wardrobe and open the bottom two drawers— both empty save for four more boxes of candles. They pull them out and stack them on top of the others.

“…I suppose that could qualify as an embarrassing amount.”

“Still not done,” they say. They walk over to the table, draped with a plain red cloth that touches the floor, and pulls out four more boxes from beneath it.

Narinder starts to laugh. When Hamal turns back toward him he’s still sitting on the bed, doubled over, new tears rolling down his face. He’s laughing so hard it’s difficult for him to speak. “Why in the world…would you…why would you…that’s…”

He forces himself to sit up properly and counts the boxes. A dozen candles to a box, sixteen boxes. Hamal needs to write down that sort of math to figure it out, but Narinder can do it in his head. “…192 candles!”

Hamal grins, a little abashed, but mostly pleased that they seem to have broken through whatever fog his nightmare left him in. They sit beside him on the bed. “Well, I know how much you like to read, and I know you like to have one or two lit when you’re going to sleep. I thought it might make you feel more at home, and I didn’t want to run out in case you needed extras.”

Narinder looks around the hut at the boxes full of candles, the last few laughs fading into a soft chuckle. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “Only you. You are…”

“Ridiculous?” they offer.

“A bit, but I was going to say extraordinary,” Narinder says. He grabs their hand and turns it over, running his thumb across their palm. “I couldn’t dream you up if I tried.”

They smile. “Convinced I’m real then?”

“Yes,” he says. He leans against them and interlaces his fingers with theirs. “I…apologize. I held off on sleeping here for this reason. I didn’t want to run the risk of saying or doing something harmful when I wasn’t…all here.” He can’t seem to look at them as he speaks, gaze cast downward at the floor as though ashamed.

Hamal grasps him gently by the chin and turns his face toward them. “You don’t have to apologize, Nari. Even if you did do or say something ‘harmful’, we’ve literally tried to kill each other before. I think I could get over it, especially if you only did or said it because you were confused.”

He smiles slightly at that, but it fades quickly. There’s a sadness that lingers behind his eyes. “There was a moment there I thought I’d imagined you. All of it. The prophecy, the Lamb, this.”

“Was that the nightmare?” they venture a guess.

Narinder nods once. “It wouldn’t have been the first time I…it happened a few times, in the veil. Believing I was about to be free, or that I was already. The return to reality was always…unpleasant.”

They try not to think about it, but the memory surfaces regardless: giant arms stripped to the bone, cuffs stained with black godsblood and ragged flesh. Nearly a thousand years alone, barely able to move, screaming into in an empty white prison. Sometimes, Hamal wishes they could kill the Bishops all over again. They cannot imagine inflicting that sort of fate on someone they love.

Hamal squeezes Narinder’s hand reassuringly. “This is the reality now.”

Without warning, Narinder pulls them into a fierce hug. He squeezes them tight and buries his face in their neck. Hamal returns the embrace and doesn’t dare break it; they’ll hold him for the rest of the night if that’s what he needs.

After a prolonged silence, he slowly relinquishes his grip on them. They’ve watched him run through the gamut of emotion, but now he seems more tired than anything. He lays down again and wordlessly pulls Hamal with him. They cuddle close once more; he rests his head against their chest, they wrap a protective arm around him. Narinder sighs, exhausted in several ways. At last he says, “I don’t deserve this. You.”

“Yeah, you do,” Hamal says dismissively.

He doesn’t lift his head from their chest, but his red eyes flicker to look up at them. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“I love you. So you deserve the world, because I said so.” They punctuate the sentiment by giving him a playful squeeze.

He smiles softly and nuzzles his face into their wool. “I suppose as the last god ‘because I said so’ trumps any argument I could hope to make.”

“Exactly,” Hamal says, grinning. “Try and get some sleep, Nari. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Narinder lifts his head to look at them one last time, as if to ensure they aren’t going to evaporate into smoke the second he looks away. They smile and run their cloven hand through the fur on his back, another physical reminder that he’s cozy and safe, no longer chained and alone. He smiles at that and once again rests his cheek against their wool, his eyes beginning to drift closed.

Hamal kisses the tips of his ears and hugs him close. They say it again, softer this time: “I’m here. Always.”

The purr begins again, quieter than before, but it’s there. “My thanks, Lamb.”

#Cult of the Lamb #Cult of the Lamb fanfic #narilamb #whump #fluff #past hurt all comfort #true devotion #i love them your honor #narilamb fanfic

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chiprewington · 6 months

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YEAAA EY ARE SO COOL!

i've also been like super curious more about what the void/grey is like in eir story/lore and if chip knows about it or anything ? :eyes: your silly little hare is wonderful btw/gen

THANK YOU!!! This is gonna be a lil lengthy so here's a readmore!

Warning for Dereality and Existential stuff!

"The Grey", alternatively known as "The Green", "The Void", "The Plane", "Out of Bounds", or "The Edge of the Canvas" depending on where you're at, is basically... just as you'd expect. Break a little something, jump a little too far, flip your closet or phone backwards, and there you are. While it is feasible to leave Toontown of course, doing so in an irregular fashion lands you in The Grey.

(old art but it gets the point across)

Many toons view The Grey as something... not too big of a deal, actually. Many build things in it, like apartments or staircases to make a second floor for their estate. This blissful ignorance is fine! It's innocent. The problem arises when you want to understand it. What is The Grey? Why does it stretch endlessly? Why does it feel so wrong when you go too deep? Questions that unfortunately are a bit too out there for any Toon- or Suit for that matter- to understand.

However, trying to understand regardless will result in... consequences. Things begin to unravel in ways they shouldn't for anyone.

Cue Perry, who was unknowingly roped into this by a strange and bizarre individual known as Nicholas Leftmann, or by his title "Mr. Fear and Loathing in Hollywood", a weirdo highly-customized Mr. Hollywood who has some ties to dear sweet Perry in ways that will definitely shock em later! Anyways, Perry basically was dragged into the Grey really early on into eir career as a resistance ranger, informed about Suits being Living Beings, got fucked up from that, started trying to learn more about the grey after getting closer to Nicholas, and now here we are. To break the fourth wall a little, ey are suddenly now aware of inconsistencies between Pre-1.3 and Post-1.3, as well as Pre- and Post- Taskline Revamp. Things are starting to make sense in a way that's not very toony (in short: ey're starting to understand ey're in a game, but it's virtually impossible for em to fully process this). Ey refuse to tell anyone what ey've learned though, existential dilemmas are cruel to hoist onto people randomly and also people would probably think ey're just silly.

Chip has not been exposed to the horrors of The Grey. He is blissfully unaware of this brand of horrors and I think it should stay that way for his well being. He has experienced things Perry does whenever ey "proc", but he's been convinced this is just... a Thing ey can Do. He's also not aware of the fact the lamp in the lobby is unstable and serves as an easy entry-point into The Grey.

#long post #chip revvington #perry winkles #my art #ask #dereality #headcanons

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sevikasleftpussyflap · 2 years

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Sevika x reader with BPD hc’s???? if ur comfortable,,.😭 I CANT FIND ANYTHING ANYYWHEREE I loved your hcs with autistic reader hdbjhfghg,, HOPE YOU R DOING WELL!!?🫶🏻

Thank you! I really needed this too

Warnings: This is not to romanticize BPD, toxic behavior, derealization, dissociation, etc. all of these are mentioned and talked about along with coping mechanisms. I tried to focus more on Sevika’s comfort because thats what I need rn

You and Sevika clicked instantly and it was perfect. She was perfect and could do no wrong. You’re immediately attached and idolizing her, wanting to spend every moment with her. There would be so much sex and your hands would always be on one another whenever you’re together, which is often.

Then one day you see her talking to someone else. It could be someone she works with or needs to give orders to, but insecurity floods your mind and you start thinking she’s replacing you. If she just so happened to be late to your date or the agreed upon meeting, you blow up at her. Accuse her of not caring about you, that she’s cruel and selfish and suddenly you can’t remember why you ever liked her in the first place. She’s hot headed and your arguments would always be disastrous.

Breaking up with Sevika when she doesn’t respond to you right away. You have a habit of cutting people off for small things because you’ve been hurt in the past and you can’t go through it again. Creating problems in your head after not speaking with her for a few hours and then convincing yourself to believe the narrative you came up with, which is that she’s mad at you, she’s with someone else, she wants to break up, etc.

When you’re upset and can’t think straight you say hurtful things. Overreacting over little incidents, but forgiving her quickly once you calm down.

Sevika would be angry. You tell her you’re done after she comes home late for the second time when she promised to be home early for your date. After enough of these fake breakups, she wouldn’t take you seriously. She’ll wait for you to calm down and then have a discussion with you.

The discussion would include how concerned she is for you, how she wants to make this work but she doesn’t like feeling toyed with and there needs to be a change. She knows how you work yourself up and come to her crying about something you’ve blown way out of proportion. It’s obvious that you’re hurting and once she realizes that your emotions come from a place of pain and trauma, she’ll have a more gentle approach.

She’d handle your fear of abandonment by being your own protector. When you want her to walk you some place or do something with you, she’d do everything in her power to make time or get a day off. Sevika would be wary of whoever you talk to or hang out with. You’ve already been hurt enough and she’d make sure they have no ill intent towards you or see you as someone who can just be disregarded. She will often get into verbal or physical disputes with people to keep you safe and make sure they know not to fuck you over.

Communication. She’s not great at it, but when you go back to her crying, she’ll try to be more understanding. It’s hard because she gets defensive. You constantly throw in her face how she doesn’t care about you which can be hurtful to her when she tries to do everything she can to show you love. It may not be conventional because of how she is, but to her it’s a big deal.

Derealization/dissociation. You zone out, feel detached from the world especially during fights or when you’re stressed. It would happen easily at the last drop. Sevika ingrains into your head that you’re to come to her when you’re feeling this way. If she’s asleep, wake her up. She’ll tell you about her childhood and the pranks she’d play on the enforcers, the kids she bullied, her favorite hobbies and games, and how she learned how to swindle grown men at cards. That’s if you need a distraction, but she has no problem with reassuring you that you’re okay, everything will be fine, it won’t last forever, and you don’t have to leave her arms until you feel better.

Having a bad memory because of it and losing gaps of time. Sevika carries around a notepad and pen with her for you to write down where you are, what you’re doing, or doodle an object in the room of her choice. Little things to get you thinking about where you are and what’s physically around you.

“Draw my strap.”

The notepad slaps against your thighs in exasperation as you look at her incredulously.

“You’re… joking? Right? Sev, it’s supposed to be an object in this room-“

Sevika’s widening smirk fills the gaps in your mind, her palm falling to her zipper and answering your already-solved question.

“Maybe it is in the room.”

“We’re in public, Sev.”

“And?” She looks at the drawn curtain pointedly from her lounging position on the couch. “C’mon. Draw me.”

Sevika would become well versed in grounding techniques that work for you. She’d carry gum or candy to give you, like a grandma. Whenever you start staring off into space or don’t respond quickly enough, she subtly goes through exercises to help you get your focus back. She’s still Sevika, so her methods may not be entirely doctor-approved. She places the cold metal of her hand into yours, gives you a strong sip of alcohol until you cough and sputter, blows smoke on you, maybe starts a bar fight to give you a distraction, especially when she tasks you with cleaning the blood from the crevices of her arm.

“Sevika, I hate those.” Your nose scrunches at the red and white candy dangerously close to your lips, her unyielding chest against your back preventing you from escaping.

All your girlfriend does is raise an eyebrow and inch the mint closer.

“Good girl.” She gives you a slap on the shoulder that rattles you, seemingly harsh to any passerby but she follows it with a deep massage that lessens the haze clouding your vision. “What do you feel?”

“The hard mint between my teeth. Your thigh between my legs- shut up, you asked. Your strong ass fingers digging a hole in my back.” A breath of smokey air rushes against your cheek as Sevika laughs and abandons her massage to pull you closer to her, your head under her chin.

“Good, baby. What do you taste?”

Sevika takes you to therapy appointments in Piltover that she pays top dollar for. To your surprise, she requests to sit in on some of them so she can learn more about ways to help you. Picture Sevika with reading glasses writing down techniques like the 5-senses one mentioned above. Telling you to shut up when you giggle at her, slapping your wandering foot away from her pen, poking your side when you zone out, making sure to write down any suggestions by the therapist and make you try them…

Always taking your side if you have a spat with someone. Even if it’s your fault. She knows you’ll come to your senses later, but you’re hers and she’ll defend you even if you committed mass murder in front of her

#sevika imagine #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader

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multiplicity-positivity · 11 months

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hi, I was wondering if you could advise me a bit on how to differentiate between depersonalization and plurality. And if it's likely to be worth figuring out.

I've felt as though someone else was/I wasn't in control of my movements before, but I can't tell it that's depersonalization or plurality. Additionally I don't know whether my different parts are just different facets of my personality or simply moods. And that same question comes up when asking myself if me rapidly changing my mind is just a change in mood. I've wondered if my ability to forget something that just happened is a sign of plurality, or a different type of dissociation (dissociative amnesia?).

just overall I don't feel like I can tell whether I'm plural or a singlet. I keep feeling very strongly one way or another about it.

And I do want to ask if it would be something I should bring up to my therapist. They know I dissociate, but not that I have questioned having P-DID/OSDD-1/USDD/DID.

Hello - depersonalization is a symptom and major factor of DID/OSDD and DPDR alike. Depersonalization/derealization disorder (DPDR) is a dissociative disorder like DID, but is not necessarily formed in childhood, with no dissociative amnesia between distinct parts, and no separate personality states. We recently posted a described infographic from UTEP on the different dissociative disorders - you can read the post here.

If you are questioning having a dissociative disorder with alters/separate identities, there are a few things to keep in mind:

1) People with DID/OSDD often can feel and recognize the presence of multiple identities and personality states. They may find evidence of or have interactions with alters who have different names, genders, tastes, memories, etc. Note there is a difference between having different moods/aspects/facets of yourself (a common and normal human experience) and having distinct and separate personalities/identities (an irregular experience that may point to something like DID/OSDD).

2) DID and OSDD-1 (the disorders which result in splitting alternate personalities) form due to repeated trauma in childhood. The same is not necessarily true for DA and DPDR - these disorders may form in childhood or beyond. Not all plurality forms as a result of childhood trauma, but DID and OSDD-1 absolutely do. We have heard that P-DID is just another term for OSDD-1 (used in the ICD rather than the DSM). We are not sure what this USDD is that you’ve referenced (UDD is a term used by clinicians when they suspect their patient has a dissociative disorder, but is unable to specify the diagnosis).

If you struggle with depersonalization, you definitely should consider speaking about this with your therapist. Dissociative symptoms can be debilitating, and consulting a mental health professional may better equip you to deal with your symptoms effectively. Disclosing your symptoms with your therapist is important so that they can give you individualized and accurate treatment. It may be scary, but it is necessary in order to ensure your therapist will be able to help you to the best of their ability.

Remember that answers to big questions like these usually won’t come overnight. It may take some time, self-reflection, questioning, and outside support to best understand what’s happening. We wish you luck in learning more about yourself. Ultimately we cannot confirm or deny whether you’re plural or just struggling with DPDR, but we wish you the best in figuring this out.

🖋 Cecil and 💫 Parker

#depersonalization #dpdr

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pageofheartdj · 10 months

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That sounds kind of like my experience with dissociation (depersonalization plus derealization at the same time, so a more total dissociation). Where things dont feel real and everything is fuzzy and it kind of feels like theres a distance between you and like,the reality of being alive and being a part of the world itself (if that makes sense?)

I'm unsure about the being swept away part,but it could be partially influenced by your brain or body being all "hey hey hey we shouldn't be so separated from ourself" maybe? An internal recognition that staying in that state would be unhealthy but falling into it anyways? I'm no psychologist!

Sometimes experiences with dissociation and mental health changes as people get older. Whether it's like brain chemicals settling more or just experience building the framework of "we have alternative methods of dealing with this now, we dont need to rely on just the one". Like how personalities can evolve from what it was when you're a kid!

When I'm dissociate now vs when I was a kid jts more soft now? As a kid it was a more "thrown into that state and everything else is just completely gone". Now it's more of a functional dissociation where I can still do some things but not all. Theres a delay between me and the world and I struggle to care about reacting because nothing about it is real, but I know that itll help future me if I at least do the bare minimum and push through.

I dont know if I explained it well or if that helps at all,but you arent alone!

Yes this is EXACTLY how it felt like. You know how kids play games and get very immersive in them but then stop playing and the world they pretended stop existing? Yeah that but with real life. When a 'toy'(me) falls out of the pretend game and fuck nothing is real?? My whole life was just a game?? And I am some kind of self insert for Bigger me??xD Like I said, a big doll house, the world outside of my home(doll house) isn't real and my house is 'real' only because I am in it right now and someone(Bigger me?) sits outside and just watches the Little me 'living' from the side. Man this got confusing xD

Hmm possibly. I was scared of not being real and I was 'outside' and it could have associated with death and I didn't want that xD

It is interesting that every time happened with my consent? Like that feeling teased me like a door, but it was on me to get close and open it. I could have shoo that feeling away but I indulged.

Hm interesting idea with coping mechanism and it was just my mind dealing with stuff by allowing me to walk away sort of? I don't remember how old I was(I barely remember anything from my past) but I had my grandma and grandpa dying so it could have been what my brain was dealing with. Also I was generally a depressed kid/teen, so I often played with spite-death fantasies xD

I wonder if now me just spacing out counts as a soft version?xD

Anyway thanks for explaining!! It helped in figuring it out!:)

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amyintherapy · 3 months

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Embodying Feelings & Disassociation

Trigger warning: There will be brief mention of self harm and sexual abuse in this post.

I started therapy for the first time at the end of 8th grade. I was 13. I got pretty lucky and was a good match with my first therapist. Still, it took me a while to start to really open up to him about the hard stuff. I want to say that it was probably at least six months before I told him about my sexual abuse. I don't know when I told him about my experiences with disassociation, but I remember it being extremely hard to tell him, similar to the SA info. At the time, I had heard of PTSD, but I knew of it as something soldiers get from witnessing war. I knew it could make veterans react to fireworks as if they were bombs, but that was about all I knew about it, from what I recall. I had no idea what else could 'cause' it - if anything, or what the symptoms really were. I had never heard of disassociation.

So, when I'd get really triggered and felt like I was watching myself from up in the clouds...I thought this was something similar to a delusion or hallucination. I worried it might be something like schizophrenia that I was experiencing. As a result, it was a super scary thing to share. But I did, and he explained what disassociation was. When I was later referred out for diagnosis and meds, I was diagnosed with PTSD with features of depersonalization and derealization. I think I was 14 then.

So, I've been familiar with disassociation for a long time now. I don't know exactly when, but somewhere along the way I learned that it wasn't just when I felt like I was watching myself (which has always been a fairly rare occurrence for me), but also when I felt numb and disconnected from myself, which I experience more often. I started self-harming really young, and cutting in middle school and throughout most of high school. I don't remember when I realized that cutting was something that could take me out of disassociation. I think it was before I really knew what disassociation was, I just knew it helped me to sort of come out of the "frozen depression" type feeling. After a few years of therapy as a teen I was able to stop cutting. My mental health was in a better place, I had gained some coping skills, I hated myself less, etc. But I'd still disassociate at times, and I didn't know how to get rid of it other than to wait it out. So that's what I've done for years now when I've experienced it. And that's been okay, but I'd rather be able to "snap out of it" if I could. So, a recent experience that I had feels like a big deal.

For 2 or 3 weeks I was stuck in disassociation. My mind kept circling back to stuff related to identifying as being emotionally neglected. So I knew that was the cause somehow. Yet, I wasn't really feeling much. I was kind of numb emotionally and physically, while my mind felt extra hyperactive. I was making a lot of realizations in my head, but they didn't feel true, at the same time. I think most people have experiences like this. Examples might be...logically I know if I make a mistake, that is just me being human and is not a good reason for anyone to hate me. Yet when I make a mistake that impacts someone I care about, I still can't help but FEEL like they might hate me now, even though logically I know that isn't likely. Or, logically I know that the odds that a sound I just heard outside at midnight were likely a racoon or something...but I can't help but feel worried that it's a "bad guy". I have plenty of discrepancies between my logical and emotional brains that I've just kinda learned to live with for the most part. But over this few week period, I was changing my perspective of my childhood logically, but not emotionally, and that disconnect was new for me in this specific area. I felt sort of stuck, unable to continue processing these pieces of my childhood because my brain and my emotions/feelings were so far apart. Both of my therapists do some somatic work, but our couples counselor (who we basically see for 'regular' therapy that we just do together vs stereotypical couples counseling) does a lot more with us that is somatic. Nearly every session we have with our couples therapist he'll try to help us embody our feelings about something. I find it awkward, emotionally draining and sometimes embarassing - but it also feels quite powerful. He's also really into AEDP therapy, which is a type of therapy that talks about disassociation/numbing, etc as a defense from feeling a core feeling. For those reasons, I thought that speaking with our couples therapist about this might be a better fit than my 'main' therapist who I see weekly and therefore just have a deeper relationship with. During the appointment I explained my dissociation, sense of being kinda stuck or frozen, and how I knew it was related to processing being emotionally neglected, but how when I talk about it I wasn't feeling any feelings. It was all 'in my head' and not 'in my heart'. There was this big disconnect. He agreed with my assessment that I had unresolved/unfelt feelings. I don't remember exactly how we got there, but he asked me some questions that led to me sharing a specific phrase that I remember being said to me as a kid. "What the hell were you thinking?" It was phrased as a question rather than a statement, but I wasn't expected to actually answer the question. At times, I thought I had good reason for doing whatever I did, and I would have liked to explain, as it felt like they were assuming the worst possible intentions, which weren't my actual attentions at all. But I felt like I couldn't respond as it would just upset them more. Even though it was a question, responding would be taken as 'talking back'. He took the implied answer, and asked me what my first thought would be today if someone told me "you're stupid."

Honestly? My knee-jerk response is "....yeah."

Having to admit that out loud brought the emotions. Tightness in my chest, burning behind both ears, anxiety, a little anger, and some sadness. A few tears. The therapist told me to try to relax my body and let it out. I tried, but only managed a couple more tears. He had me turn to my partner and try to express to him what it felt like as a kid to have things like that said to me. This brought emotion up again. It's so hard to even look at him when I'm on the edge of spilling over with my emotions. He is such a safe person to me, that just seeing him tears down all my defenses. Although the whole point of this appointment was to try to drag out emotion...the parts of me that try to avoid it are so strong. I struggled to look at him, and it took me a while to find words to try to explain. But I did...and I collapsed into his chest and really cried. It didn't feel good, of course. But I felt so much lighter after this, and I had this sense of unthawing and waking up. I had never experienced disassociation being removed that quickly in any way besides self harm before. It was really cool.

Longterm, I want to learn how to push myself through 'exercises' like this so that I can try to do this on my own. But it was really cool to see that even if I currently need assistance from a therapist to get myself to 'go there' right now, that I seem to have found a tool to move through disassociation now. I am back to feeling like myself which is awesome, but I also have made big jumps in how I'm perceiving my childhood now. The idea that I was neglected doesn't just seem like something I logically believe, I FEEL like it's true now. And I've jumped a step farther ahead, realizing I was actually emotionally abused as well - and that feels true, too. As I said in a previous post, I kinda knew that I tend to make big growth after coming out of disassociation, so I was hopeful I'd be seeing growth soon...but it's really cool that I have.

#my posts #trauma #aedp #aedp therapy #somatic therapy #somatic experiencing #ptsd #cptsd #developmental trauma #childhood emotional neglect #childhood emotional abuse #anxiety #depression #disassociation #self harm cw #cutting cw

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strobarium · 2 months

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erin's thoughts on "paper angel."

the first post on the strobarium! how nice. (SPOILERS AHEAD.)

(eyestraining colors ahoy, dereality-type stuff is mentioned)

youtube recommended me a video i really, really enjoy by this youtuber named Mara. it's well over an hour long and she talks a lot about her experiences with outsider art and mixed media, among other things. its worth a watch if you do like long-winded video essays about...STUFF. i guess

youtube

thats only partially relevant, though. i bring the video up because within it, she talks about the game in question today, briefly. the visuals struck a chord with me, and the seemingly abstract narrative being more or less promoted my way was very intriguing and had me interested in getting my hands on it.

you already picked up the title from the title of the post but i like using big font!

"Paper Angel," by Slitherbop.

(love that title screen, wow.)

Slitherbop, or, Slither, is a 25-year old surrealist illustrator based in Sasketchewan, Canada, from what his Neocities homepage states. he has an absolute ton of really colorful and trippy art spread out across several pages, but i feel the most of them you'd find on his tumblr page. i'd recommend looking into if you're...well i mean if you're even READING THIS you're prob into the same type shit i be on, yeah. lol. anyway,

Slither has OCs. (commonplace amongst contemporary illustrators online, if you've noticed) One of them, is the focus of the game i'm going to write a lot about.

Spinwhim! (they/them)

(god, look at them.)

taken from Slither's toyhou.se (toyhou.se is more or less an original character database tool that illustrators like to use, a lot, to log their OCs and stuff)

"Spinwhim is a powerful healer and grand storyteller. They’re very kind, outgoing, and wacky. They like to travel all around to help others. Their intense curiosity and passion makes them meddlesome. They can focus and see the world on a cellular level, which is utilized in healing and creating. Good :-)"

they, are more or less the focal point of the entire visual novel. it's a treat that they are, their design is great (much as it does change over the course of the game,) and i generally do like their demeanor and how they interact with me, the player.

speaking of the player, i don't really know who i play as! it's a blank-slate type deal. i speak very vaguely and generally i think im depicted as rather confused seeming/"out-of-it."

competent enough to prepare soup for an ill spinwhim though. OH right. plot stuff. i should get into that-

...well, actually the plot's not really super complex. you're there with spinwhim in this house within this elaborately colorful world and you're essentially nursing them back to health. its said in game you spend about a week with them.

...

i didn't even get to experience the whole week but i just. i have this incredible draw towards them.

it's not really a surprise to me that any motherly (well, or even fatherly) figure with this type of benevolent, reassuring and friendly aura just resonates with me: as i kind of allude to in the preface, i've had familial...struggles in the past and i more or less continue to, especially as it relates to how i feel about my biological parents. its complex and i don't think i could really get into it fully no matter the medium, idk.

spinwhim is just nice to experience speaking to me even if it is confined to the limitations of a RPG Maker VX Ace-created visual novel. (shoutout RPG Maker also, wow, interactive outsider art people love this program a lot i have learned LOL.) as i'm taking care of them, they note how good of a job i'm doing, and even how helpful i've been to the recovery process they're going through relating to the unknown illness they have. i'm even just complimented in general regarding my demeanor and whatnot... i really do wish they were someone i could come to for comfort like i do a fair amnt of my friends, or romantic partners. it would be nice.

what, really sealed the deal, was the twist.

after seemingly, fully recovering from their illness, they're up and at it and in a different fit than normal, to boot. they say they cleared a path to head into town (the whole duration of the game, some apparently severe snowy weather was hitting your gen. location) and that they're excited to go.

they ask me if i want to come with.

so, OF FUCKING COURSE i hit go with. lol

after expressing excitement that i actually did want to go with, they ask me to come closer.

they recount how horrible it was living the way they were, prior. that their head was "caving in" and that they were "boiling" and "lethargic." sounds pretty tough. but after that, they hit me with this revelation:

i was... CREATED???

(the actual verbiage and whatnot they use to talk about everything from this point forward is genuinely just breathtaking also as a side note)

it especially explains the demeanor they've had toward me throughout the game, like i kinda said earlier, very motherly overall. i felt loved. it was sincerely nice. but then it gets even more emotional frm there for me...they say this:

"When I say I want you to come with me, I mean I want to absorb you back into me. You will be returning from where you came. Your thoughts will be my thoughts again, and it will be like a dream to me. It will be wonderful…"

was given a choice.

ONCE AGAIN. OF FUCKING COURSE I HIT YES.

this part just made me tear up a little-the response i got:

"Oh, my beautiful apple. You will no longer live in this confusion of yours. You will be safe."

i basically immediately realized what was happening to me and why it was hitting me so damn hard.

...

it's basically no secret at this point (i make sure its not) that i'm, dissociative. to the extent i fucking formed 10+ people in my head about it. lol. that being said, i'm all-too familiar with what it's like to just be, broken, split apart, fractured.

Its Not Great !

i lucked out, with my system. (there's a lot to it but this dissociative disorder shit can REALLY BE TOUGH depending on a lot of circumstances. well its tough Already, but yeah) i only (at the time of writing) deal with one alter who more or less has it out for me, and the rest of us. that makes it so that i have pretty much 12 additional friends just kind of in my noggin at every given moment. it's pretty cool-things are even such a way regarding how we work that they can just talk to me and my friends rather fluidly. it can result in a lot of shenanigans.

but the road to which led them all to forming was fucking crazy and shitty. i won't go into details i guess here but dissociative disorders are most of the time traumagenic, to give you an idea. its not great, as i said earlier. theres just a lot to OSDD that i don't like, the memory issues i regularly have come to mind, along with me feeling detached from the world, other things. blegh.

that considered along with , complex (negative) feelings abt family shit considered it's probably just, obvious as hell why this scene resonates with me so much.

(had this revelation while getting screenshots for this post but the character they're hugging which i can only assume is the player looks alarmingly like one of my oldest sonas. made everything hit a lil harder for me)

i feel like a broken soul. and i yearn to be whole, again.

i don't think i would have taken up this oppurtunity irl if i was granted it given how much i do enjoy about being my own person who does things and whatnot but the thought lingers. getting to live it out to some degree thru this lil mini interactive artpiece just proved very therapeutic to me. i discovered it very early in the morning, and didnt really talk to anyone about it until after i experienced it. going through all of that solitarily, in my blue-lit room (thank you phillips for the hue bulb. Lol) just did a lot for me. i'm very, very thankful.

(should also note the same day i played the game i also took a phone call frm my mom and we talked about life stuff. it kinda hurt. to quote frm a more primitive form of this writeup "she used to bring me great comfort in my youth, during times i really needed it. complex feelings have led to a rift between us, that she can't even see. that i don't even, know if i want her to see." kinda says everything ig)

it was a nice escape from everything i'm generally going through at the moment, broadly. the process of recovery has proven to be fucking insane and full of all sorts of surprises on top of a very unpleasant yet expected amount of moments ive been faced with my absolutely, less pleasant qualities to my personality and bad habits and such. it sucks, but im at least...well i like to THINK im at least angled toward being better about shit but i don't know. i'm still learning. it's tough and i know i'm not alone when it comes to CPTSD recovery or dissociative disorder coping or bipolar disorder coping or whatever the hell else, but it really just, feels cold and solitary a lot of the time regardless. it's tough. it really is tough.

im just glad i found this little game. any sort of respite that appeals to me to that degree is just very appreciated.

i almost thought it was some strange divine shit going down in my life that led me to even stumbling upon it, the way it hit me. didn't lead to any i guess new revelations about my life or whatever, which is fine!

but. i liked it. it's nice.

i'm grateful. :)

slitherbop, if you're reading this, thank you. sincerely. from the bottom of my heart.

also plz more acid glitch parenting moment's plz (lol)

~ E.K.S.G.

#erin experiences #slitherbop #visual novel #outsider art #Youtube

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