#Derealization canon

[monigote001]

Deerless bear

[majesstiiic]

life in fast forward

[fungoideale]

canon powershot a550

[unorcadox]

a couple of bonus troll edits i made to fool weirdcord into thinking i was a noob <3

[bunfloras]

Okay okay. Phil thinking he's losing his mind in qsmp and maybe going to fit to confirm what he's seeing, only to realize it's not real.

Phil is alone.

Not real.

Fit is here.

Real.

Phil escaped.

Real…?

Phil sinks into the chair with a groan, face buried in his hands. It’s all he can manage just to breathe, his heart hammering against his ribs like a bird in a cage—

A cage, a cage.

How long has it been? Days? Months?

“Fuckin’ hell...”

Fit ‘tsks’ sympathetically beside him. Even that is too loud, almost as noisy in his ears as his own heart. It’s better than the silence, though. He hears a clatter as Fit digs through his chests, and then the tell-tale rattle of maracas. His heart stops for a moment, his lips forming Tallulah’s name before he thinks better of it.

She isn’t there. She hasn’t been there for a while. Phil doesn’t know how long.

Fit mouths an apology, shoving the instruments a little deeper into his chest. He hands Phil a bottle of water, though when he filled it, Phil doesn’t know. Time is skipping around like a scratched record, leaving everything hazy and disjointed. It has been for weeks.

Has it been weeks?

It’s too quiet. Everything’s too quiet.

He remembers quiet—remembers staying up for days with terracotta dust staining his knuckles and only the crows for company. Endless nights, an eternity alone with himself and the gods meddling in his life. Building, building, building because it was all he could do to stay sane. Things are different now, or so he tries to tell himself.

But the quiet is the same.

“Talk,” Phil rasps, his throat bone-dry. He clutches the water a little tighter. “…Please.” His thoughts are too loud. He needs something to drown them out.

Fit doesn’t answer.

“Mate, please.” Phil’s voice is breaking. Rough as sandpaper, fragile as glass. “Tell me this is—fuck. Tell me this is real.”

The cage’s bars rattle louder in his chest. The bottle in his hand is empty.

“Fit…?”

Was it ever really there?

[vampyrekorkie]

help!!! I can't stop drawing this bitch and their zucchini!!!

references: x (they rest are from pinterest)

[nooo-pressure]

maybe there’s nothing only this moment (I’m connected to the Bluetooth) ft new lens 👒

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

y’know if there’s one good thing that came out of the book of bill, it’s that you can’t take it as canon and be a proponent of same coin theory at the same time

[maddilynmuse]

Two Stars

Chapter 2

Me: So… should we finish Bared Teeth and Open Hands? Should give those guys some closure and-

Brain: No, more angst

Me: Honestly valid.

A second chapter to my Body Swap Fic! Enjoy~

<< First || Next >

2hats spoilers and post game spoilers for In Stars and Time. Also available on AO3.

CW: Body dysphoria/dysmorphia, derealization, dissociation, abnormal body signals, panic induced self harm, talking to yourself, general panic

Siffrin stared at the dots littering the back of his hands… his hands? Were these his hands? His hands were pale, near-darkless. But between the little specks of light, there was almost nothing but dark.

He flexed his fingers, and they moved. Paper pose, rock pose, scissors pose… they followed. It should’ve been clear they were his! But still he kept moving them, flitting between gestures and poses, open and closed, bending and unbending fingers, desperately trying to outwit himself. Maybe if they couldn’t keep up, he’d wake up from whatever dream this was! He just had to do something complicated enough that these not-his-hands couldn’t catch on in time!

But of course it didn’t work like that. This wasn’t a dream, these weren’t someone else’s hands, it was no strange mirror image. They moved “along with” his hands because they were his hands, no matter how violently his mind tried to reject this fact.

Even his panic felt wrong. He had no human heart to beat, no proper lungs to hyperventilate with, no physical means by which to get lightheaded except in the most painfully literal sense possible. Hah! Get it? Light headed! His head was a light! Wait was it? Yes! Yes it was! There was a subtle flare ever-present in the edges of his vision, and he could see the bark of the tree all too well.

His skin crawled… or flared? Was this how that felt? It was disconcertingly buzzy, like a buildup of static in one particular spot making nonexistent hairs stand on-end so much it prickled with something not-quite painful. It was distracting, and normally, a bit of discomfort would be welcome! Much easier not to think when you’re in agony! But this only scraped at the already fried edges of his mind.

He grabbed at one “flare” as it shot down his arm, but it did nothing to stop it. Invisible fingernails dug into lightless skin. He was seized by an irrational urge to tear it off. Yes, yes! It was just…

A suit.

A strange suit! So just… tear! Come on. Tear! It wasn’t like it was his cloak, he could rend this! The pain wasn’t enough to ground him, wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough. He needed, needed-

He needed his friends, his family, Isabeau, Mirabelle, Bonnie, Odile, Loop! Anyone, please! Anyone!

He needed to cut it off. The fabric was just too strong, right? And he couldn’t find the seam, so he’d make a new one! Now where was his dagger? Around his waist belt…

…

…

Oh stars he was completely nude.

Nope! Nope nope nope nope nope! Do not look at the starry skin! Don’t look at the fact that you’re built like a children’s toy! Don’t look don’t look don’t look!

He wished he could feel nauseous. Instead he just felt itchy. Constrained. Suffocated. Wrong. He needed to get this off. Minus the dagger, he just used his fingers, tearing at his own not-flesh with a desperate fervor. It stung, but not enough; his pain tolerance was too high. He needed to bleed, needed to see he was still human, needed to have some way of getting all this frantic pressure out! Get it out get it off get it out get it off get it out get it off get it off GET IT OFF!

Shlick!

There was a wet sound followed by a muffled cry of pain as he stared at the too-bright, misty fluid running out of one arm. The opposite hand was held in a scissors position. He had cut it…

And that was not blood. It wasn’t even fully liquid, some of it evaporating into mist. His mind went fuzzier than the flares on his body as he watched it, imagining that to be all the pent up panic leaking out. Too soon it tried to stop, so he picked at the wound, fingers tearing it just a bit more open. The relief was tangible, skin settling and the over-bright flare surrounding him dying down to something manageable.

Maybe best not to think about the reality of what he just did.

Instead…

“Let’s talk about something.” At least his voice sounded similar… wait, why did it sound similar? Hah! Had Loop been pitching their voice up the entire time? That was kind of funny, in a way.

He sat down on the opposite knoll that he woke up on, taking his normal seat. If he closed his eyes and tried to block out the itch of his skin, it was easy to imagine Loop sitting across from him instead of… whatever this counted as.

“So, stardust!”

?!?!

Oh. He said that. He was talking to himself. Okay then!

“So, stardust! Now can I help you this wonderful new loop? Or whatever this counts as! Because wow, you’ve managed to mess up in a blindingly bright NEW way! You really thought that messing with wishcraft again would end well for you? Stars, how did you even make it this far, you absolute idiot!”

… no. That was wrong. Loop was rude and obnoxious sometimes, but always nice when he needed it. Well, usually. Except when he REALLY upset them, but he couldn’t ask them to be infinitely okay with everything. Still, they were nicer than this.

So he tried again. “… sorry stardust. I got a bit carried away… so let’s try that again! How can I help you?”

“… I’m scared,” he admitted to himself, pulling his legs into his chest. With his eyes closed, he could pretend they looked normal. “And breathing won’t help. It feels wrong.”

“I know exactly what you mean, but don’t worry! You’ll get used to it! Or not! Who knows! I’m literally just you putting on a voice! Even less Loop than the real one!”

“Shut up.”

He was losing his mind, wasn’t he? Well, at least he wasn’t literally attacking himself anymore? Ugh, hopefully no one was listening, but wouldn’t they have said something by now if they were…?

“Ahem. So, stardust. Let’s go over this. How exactly did you manage this?”

He took… whatever counted as a breath. Seemed he still breathed, even if the mechanism was different. Good to know? “I made a wish for you, Loop! I- I wanted you to have a chance to be happy too, so I wished that you’d be able to be yourself with us, and I did use us specifically so that, you know, I could also be included and we didn’t have to kill each other or fervor…”

“And now you look exactly like me?”

“Apparently??? Which??? I don’t get??? Why would you being yourself mean I’m you?”

“Oh stardust, don’t flatter yourself. You already ARE me, and vice versa, and-“

“Oh my stars, I’m so stupid.”

Loop was him, so being themselves meant being Siffrin. He was in their body, so presumably the reverse was also true. But he’d used us! He was supposed to be included! But…

…

Well. What exactly was stopping him from joining them? Other than, well…

Looking like this.

…

And being naked.

…

He would like clothes, actually.

Being an infinitely easier goal, he decided to focus on that one. Step one, obtain a cloak or pants or skirt or SOMETHING, step two… everything else. Step out and- oh! It’s night time. Convenient? It looked like most would were inside for the night, and Vaugardiand rarely locked their doors, but they’d still hear him, right? And going into a house to steal somehow felt worse than walking in to chat or explore…

Oh! Clothes line!

And that was how Siffrin ended up robbing some poor person’s skirt because they couldn’t be bothered to take the wash in on time, scribbling a note of apology.

Now!

… everything else.

This was going to be a long trip.

-*-*-

That’s all for now~

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[itcanbesour]

James HC just bare with me — you know that feeling when you come to sort of deeper reality of something? In this case being alive? It’s like one moment you’re at your desk and then the next you’re like, “holy shit. Im an human on earth living talking and breathing.” Or maybe that’s just me — James experiences this often after the war. Except it’s more of a doubt he’s alive. He and his team barely made it out of the war in one piece and that’s what fueled it. He’s so distraught that he tends to check his own pulse. He wants clarification that he isn’t dead, despite the obvious evidence in front of him that he isn’t. James just needs it. He doesn’t wanna leave his family and friends behind. Even though eventually he will, inevitably so.

(check my other posts when I answered an ask but he mindful of the warning and you’ll know what im referring too.)

[eagle-warri]

MAG XXX: Labyrinthine

(inspired by both @cherrifire’s Distortion!BigB and @mothofprophecy’s Distortion!Grian. And also the fact that Secret Life is basically a Spiral domain at this point)

tw: derealization, descriptions of glitching

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[click]

[ARCHIVIST] Statement of G. Rian regarding a maze of doors. Statement given October 29, 20…that can’t be right. The statement says it was given 2023, that day hasn’t happened yet. It must’ve been a mistake, I’ll have to refile it. Statement begins.

[ARCHIVIST (statement)] Alright, first thing you need to know is that I am not the best guy sometimes, but I try! If I sometimes trap my friends in death games for fun, well, no one’s perfect. I see how you’re looking at me, they’re fine. Mostly. Don’t ask about Jimmy.

Anyways. I was running another game, but something was wrong. I wasn’t completely in control anymore, something…else had gotten in there. And not of my own design. Something not of blood and life and death, like the games always were, not of the binding strings and rot of Double or the ticking time of Lim or the hopping bloodlust of Last, but of color and twisting and lies. We had…they were called Secrets. Things we had to do or we suffered the consequences. And there was one player…

It was BigB. Don’t ask about a real name, only about half the players went by one, and he wasn’t one of them. But from the start his secrets were weird. First one I’m almost sure was hole-related, but he would not tell me, which I’m kind of annoyed about. But the second one…

I don’t even know what his secret was for, but he had some sort of labyrinth built, and he invited me in. I took it, obviously. But as I passed him, something was a bit off. Nothing was wrong looking right at him, but out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn that he was glitching. Like, he had this weird, colorful outline, and his fingers were too long. I didn’t think much of it. Probably should have, otherwise I wouldn’t be in here.

Anyways, I headed in, and figured that it was a maze thing, that I’d have to find my way out. Especially when I glanced back and realized the door wasn’t there anymore. I kept going, but it seemed like I was going in circles. The doors on the walls kept changing, colors and styles glitching. Eventually I tried just walking in one direction. Until I realized that I should have been past the world border. There should’ve…well what should’ve happened is that there was a wall, a border somewhere that you couldn’t go through. A pocket domain’s only so large, ya know? Suppose you do, given this place.

I kept going. Eventually I started running, checking every door I could. It only seemed to glitch more the more I was in there. It was as if whatever had trapped me in that place didn’t like me. And every so often, when I glanced back, I saw BigB. He seemed at home in the glitches, but so wrong at the same time. His limbs didn’t look right, his sweater glitching from blue to pink to purple. The curls in his hair only spiraled in and in and in and in, never seeming to stop.

I found the one door that wasn’t glitching. It seemed normal, your typical birch door that seemed stark against the dissolving hallway around me. I grabbed for it and went through it and…

I woke up on the ground, looking up at BigB. He looked…normal. It was a stark contrast from the glitching mess that had been in the maze. He helped me up, saying I’d passed out in there, that he’d dragged me out. He shrugged before waving a goodbye as I walked up the stairs that spiraled up to ground level. 

As I left, I thought to check my secret. It said to move some doors around people’s bases, and I did! Twice as many as I needed to, actually. And I built this confusing base thing, basically all stairs.

I never realized how much fun it was to confuse people like that.

[ARCHIVIST] Statement ends. There’s…a lot to unpack here. That Jimmy he mentioned…I’m pretty sure we have an End statement by a Jimmy that refers to a “G” a couple of times. But the other things. Mr. Rian seems like a dangerous Avatar. It seems less like he belongs to someone specific, and more to a fear, something game and death and blood and control. Adding being Spiral-touched to that can’t be good for anyone. Hell, it seems like he’s halfway to being an Archivist himself, if he wasn’t so tied to Web.

That BigB he mentioned confuses me too. He doesn’t match the description of Michael or Helen, but he’s obviously a Distortion. The doors make that obvious enough. Maybe this thing really is from that date. Or maybe it’s not, and the Spiral is just messing with me.

Not really that much to follow up on here, unless I want someone to end up in his…what did he call it? “Pocket Domain?”

Whatever that is, it sounds worrying. For now, I’ll only hope that none of us cross G’s path.

[click]

[monigote001]

Kinda lazy video

Also I will probably take my time to re tag my posts about Alex with SCP-231-4B so is more clear to follow jjj

[majesstiiic]

i just want to feel better

[metanarrates]

it is a shame kim dokja wasn't in that dissociation swag competition. he would have swept

[former-jrwi-fic-recs]

And with all your grief in my arms (I am losing you to the sea)

by Solkatter

Underneath an endless canopy of shimmering stars, with each step accompanied by the grinding of black sand beneath their feet, the echoes of forgotten lives converge and intertwine, unveiling secrets left untold.

Word Count: 8,440

Status: Not Complete (1/2)

Submitted by @soupiguess

Please always remember to read the tags!

[cddd4c]

my little friend