#the selective memory is unreal

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

“left you to rot” catra stans will never stop villanizing adora for something she didn’t do, will they?

[slightly-sigilant]

"P drowns in PELIGIN, the colour of the deepest zee. V marks VIOLANT when blood is shed in a spired place. A wakes APOCYAN, the blue of memory and brightest coral. Behind your mirror, V names VIRIC, the colour of shallow sleep. C lights COSMOGONE, the colour of remembered suns. I is for IRRIGO. No one remembers why. G is lost in GANT, which remains when all other colours are eaten." -- Pages from 'The Neathbow', Sunless Sea

Here they are! All seven fountain pen inks I've picked for the Neathbow.

Peligin: Diamine Tempest (dark, dark, dark blue with lots of gold shimmer and a slight red sheen)

Violant: Diamine Polar Glow (electric blue with an intense red sheen)

Apocyan: Diamine Spearmint Diva (teal with silver shimmer and a slight pink sheen)

Viric: Diamine Neon Lime (lime green with lots of silver shimmer)

Cosmogone: Diamine Citrus Ice (bright orange with lots of silver shimmer)

Irrigo: Diamine Pansy (violet with gold-black sheen)

Gant: Dominant Industry Downpour (warm gray, no sheen, no shimmer)

Of all these inks, Downpour is my favorite. It might look like a nothing ink next to all the sheeners and shimmerers, but it has lovely shading and is easy on the eyes. I use it every day for doodling.

Keep in mind that as per Failbetter's own words, the Neathbow is actually quite variable in how it appears, given that its colors are a) unreal, and b) colors. This selection is just my personal interpretation (with a few grabbed from Bruno's unofficial list), and it is not any more "correct" than others. Feel free to assemble your own tasting flight of Neathbow inks if you have the means.

All drawings were done with a Duke 209 (fude nib). Good god, I never want to change out so much ink ever again.

[robin-evry]

TWST with Acheron!Yuu. Declared by the mirror as "nothing" during the ceremony which attracted pitiful stares towards them coupled with the fact that they look like a lost wet puppy. They constantly forget things and is in desperate need of a GPS (grim is taking up the role of their functional braincell in order to get to class I fear).

Ourgh the boys seeing their magicless Acheron!Yuu shatter Malleus' dream in a single slash out of nowhere and finding out their true form (the white/red acheron on ult) is slowly fading away.

Malleus low-key about to double overblot cuz his first friend is in a state equivalent to dying: their color, sense of taste, and memories fading away, but they choose to push others to the light because to be an emanator of Nihility is to continue on against meaninglessness itself. 🥲

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐔 ⛩️☔

A drifter claiming to be a Galaxy Ranger. Her true name is unknown. She walks the cosmos alone, carrying with her a long sword.

During the opening ceremony Acheron yuu was about to release a slash with their blade but the coffin was soon open deciding to withhold their blade and investigate first.

Acheron!Yuu is not one to waste words. They prefer silence, speaking only when necessary, and often observe situations from the sidelines before acting.

When it was there to be selected for the dorm, the mirror was unable to identify any magical source from them so they kept searching but unfortunately it started to shake and cracks started to form when it was searching for magic in Acheron yuu soul it was decided that they were magicless.

Regardless many students like Lilia, malleus, Crowley and others could feel another worldly present with you as if instead of magic it was something else. Lilia was able to sense the sleeping abyss inside of them and tried to keep it lowkey with them to make sure not to wake it up, one of the biggest hints of Acheron!yuu was the alias of them.

Even then they decided to keep their true self away from others fearing they will be affected by the nihillity or would be better off rather than knowing.

Crowley tried to confiscate Acheron yuu blade but at night he was plagued by unimaginable nightmares resorting to giving back Acheron!yuu blade in exchange for not bringing it to school and releasing it from its sheath.

Vil once told them that they would look absolutely amazing as a model and will try to convince you to join the gig once in a lifetime and when they got back waiting for their answers Acheron!yuu unfortunately forgot

Due to them being an emanator of nihility or in other words a self annihilator their identity would soon disappear as well as their mind, their sense of taste, memories, and mind would crumble slowly until they're nothing but a walking corpse.

Due to their numbness of taste they're unable to taste the food that are in nrc and the good thing about it is that they are able to withstand Lilia's cooking which caused a questioning among the students when ever or not they're human or not.

Every time there's an overblot they will only release a portion of their power fearing a full scale attack would be too much and can cause death of the person that got over blotted.

During the dwarf mine ace, deuce and grim witness Acheron!yuu unsheathing their weapon and their entire body turn into a mix of white and red as well as their blade with one slash the monster was dude in an instant not leaving any trace of it being alive.

No matter the situation, they never waver. Whether facing headstrong dorm leaders or unpredictable students, they remain steadfast.

Though they seem distant, Acheron!Yuu possesses a strong sense of justice, particularly against corruption and tyranny. They don’t tolerate unfairness and will step in when necessary, Causing a disagreement between riddle.

There are rumors that they come from another world, but they never confirm nor deny it. Their presence feels both real and unreal, as if they walk between two worlds.

They would usually attend the dismonia dorm to spar with sebek and silver, sometimes Lilia plus they seem to always be able to win. They ask them if they can teach them some sword techniques but Acheron!yuu isn't sure.

During chapter 7 when malleus put the entire sage island to sleep, Acheron!yuu would release a slash that managed to cut down malleus spell and destroy the dream world even leaving a giant slash mark on the skies of the dismonia dorm.

Instantly everyone is hyper aware of what Acheron!yuu is capable of and when needing explanation from the others they replied with it's better for them not to know where this power originated from.

Even after explaining the nihillity towards the first years and others saying that it's pointless because they are already on their way towards being mindless walking corps many would incense wanting to save them.

Styx would start to wonder whether or not there are a threat or not after trying to calculate the possibility limits of their ability it's better not try to wake up the dormat abyss sleeping inside of them if not the world would be at stake, idia was already having suspicion towards them due to their alias being Acheron name after the river of the dead.

Acheron!yuu also work as someone to bring back lost souls towards the after life at night they would walk and bring dead souls towards their final resting place.

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ THAT'S THE SPIRIT! — feat. tengen + wives event masterlist.

synopsis. they might be gone from this world, but they'll never leave your heart. or your side. or you alone. they loved you in life, and now they have a whole afterlife to spend haunting you. warnings. death. ghosts. themes of grief & mourning. notes. requested by anon! kinda angsty ngl. gn!reader. 1.8k words. i love hinatsuru, makio, and suma so much. their husband's okay i guess.

When you woke, it was to a dull throbbing in the back of your head, and swollen eyes from a night spent crying yourself to sleep. The time was well past midday if the sun peeking through the crack in their curtain told you anything, but your body still stung with exhaustion. These days, no matter how long you slept, the heavy ache in your arms and legs never seemed to ease.

A groan slipped through your lips, as you pushed your body into a sitting position against the pillows. Under your palms, the bed felt cold. You never quite got used to the sensation, even after a whole month.

Day by day, you were told. Take it one day at a time. And you had tried to take the advice to heart, truly. Even as your late mornings lazing in bed turned into afternoons, and your efforts towards making food whittled away until you resorted to takeout only, you were surviving.

You would keep your head above the water, gulping in sweet lungfuls of air, even as the current pulled you down. You needed to keep afloat, no matter how much your chest burned with every breath.

Day by day, breath by breath.

It had been over a week since you had seen another living soul. Everyone had been quick to offer their comforts and shoulders to cry on, but you had only returned the sentiment with polite refusal. You couldn't bring yourself to face anyone; the funeral and the wake were draining enough.

The memorial service itself was a quiet affair, which you were grateful for. Only a select group were invited, limited only to immediate family and select friends who were close enough to feel the sting of their loss the most. And you, of course. It passed by in a blur of solemn words and well wishes for the next life, punctuated by sobs every few seconds.

There was a part of you that was thankful that you didn’t have to plan the event; a small, selfish part. It might have customary for the closest of the bereaved to organize the funeral proceedings, but the fog in your head meant you could hardly focus on the sound of your own voice, let alone putting together an entire ceremony.

It was Mitsuri who ended up taking your place and organizing everything you couldn't bring yourself to.

“Don’t worry about a thing, [Name].” Mitsuri had squeezed your hands, forcing a smile even as her eyes were glossy with tears. “We can handle everything. I know it’s hard for you right now, so just focus on yourself, okay?”

“Okay...” You mumbled, slightly dazed.

The daze didn't fade, even after days passed and your grief began to settle in like a parting gift. Sometimes it felt distant and unreal, as if you could still stretch your arm out and find a warm body on the opposite side of your bed; others, it felt like it was the only thing left in your mind, filling up the cracks that the loves of your life had left behind.

Still, you had to keep surviving, if not for your own sake, for your beloved spouses who could no longer survive with you.

Day by day. You could make it through one more day.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed. Your vision was filled with stars as you stood, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. You gritted your teeth and ignored it, sliding the bedroom door shut behind you.

The cold, weightless feeling of arms sliding around your waist should have been a surprise. It wasn't.

“What's got you so gloomy today, huh?” The voice was whispered right into your ear, a low hum that brushed up against your skin.

You leaned your head back, resting it on the chest of the person hugging you from behind. The sensation was strange, both solid and slightly incorporeal at the same time. Even so, there was something familiar about the chuckle that sounded afterwards.

“Tengen...” You sighed, closing your eyes. Perhaps you could ignore the distinct lack of a heartbeat near your ear; his voice sounded alive enough to compensate. “You weren't there when I woke.”

“Aw... missed me, did you?” You heard the smile in his voice, the light note of teasing that used to always get on your nerves. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering there for a moment.

“I always miss you...” You said shakily, gripping the arms still circled around your waist. There was a hollow desperation in the way your nails dug into his skin, a feverish need to touch him, bring him closer, prove that he's really there.

“Don't worry.” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “You can't get rid of us that easily.”

The faint pressure against your skin was cold enough to make you shiver, but you didn't mind. His touches could feel like ice for all you cared, as long as he was still touching you.

You still couldn't understand why it was that he was able to touch you when as far as you were aware, he was completely intangible and imperceptible to the rest of the living world, but you had shoved the question to the furthest corner of your mind.

Instead you embraced the opportunity, savouring his touch as long as you were allowed it.

Even so, it wasn't easy to adapt to your new way of living.

The first few days after the news was delivered were the hardest, when you spent hours alone in your house, until a friend or acquaintance stopped by to offer their condolences. They never seemed to mind that you didn't speak much, but eventually the visits stopped coming.

When the burial came, that was when you spoke the most. You were given a chance to give a speech, and took it graciously, as much as the words clawed at your throat.

The group was quiet afterwards, save for the odd sniffle. Mitsuri looked like she was seconds away from bawling, but she was holding herself together remarkably well. “A-Ahem. Thank for those… touching words. I-I know they meant a lot to you.”

“They did.” Your eyes drifted to the headstones, arranged right next to each other just like they would have wanted.

Tengen Uzui. Beloved husband.

Makio Uzui. Beloved wife.

Suma Uzui. Beloved wife.

Hinatsuru Uzui. Beloved wife.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the simple words etched across the stone. There wasn’t enough room on the headstones to truly tell how important they were. Not even your words—as close as they brought the group to tears—were enough.

You didn’t mention the way Tengen would instinctively reach for you in the mornings before he was fully awake, never settled until he made sure all of his spouses were safely at his side; nor did you mention that Hinatsuru’s sharp eyes could spot a gloomy mood from a mile away, always ready for comfort. And you didn't certainly mention Makio's worry for your wellbeing hidden behind her occasionally brash words, or how Suma's constant tears were only the result of the sheer amount of love she held for her spouses.

You didn't mention how much you adored them with every heartbeat and every breath, how waking up in the morning in an ice-cold bed was another stark and cruel reminder that you were alone.

“We're going to leave now.” Mitsuri squeezed your shoulder gently. “Take as long as you need.”

You didn't say another word, only numbly staring at the gravestones and imagining what yours would look like, propped up next to the four. Who would speak at your funeral? You didn't have anyone left to offer touching words, apart from Mitsuri perhaps.

In between your musings, you heard it. A loud, pained cry, like the sound of a wounded deer.

“Waaah! [Name]’s speech was so sweet!”

“Shut up, Suma! Let them be!”

You could have sobbed at the sound. Your head swung back, to see your four spouses crowded some distance away, awkwardly huddled by a cluster of gravestones.

They looked exactly like they did the last time you saw them, faces etched with wide smiles, soft eyes, and falling tears—the latter being courtesy of Suma.

“Are you done here, love?” Tengen asked with a soft smile. You stared at him as if in a daze, afraid to blink in case his image disappeared before your closed eyes.

Cautiously, you stepped forward once, then twice. Step by step, you closed the gap between, reaching out a shaky hand to brush your palm along his face. Under your thumb, his skin was cold, staticky, but real.

And all of a sudden it became all too much, and you were letting out a low cry and falling into his ready arms. The wives all surrounded you, offering soft touches, gentle words, and comforts. For that moment, you could almost believe that they'd never left at all.

It was hard to tell if they were even fully aware of their ghostly state. They had all heard your speech at the burial, but the moment you brought up the subject you were met with... odd reactions.

“Dead? Do you want us to be dead?” Makio scoffed. She had your head in her lap, absently patting your hair like you were a cat.

“I don't wanna be dead.” Suma's eyes turned glossy, and Hinatsuru was quick to pull her into an embrace.

“I don't think that's something we need to worry about.” Tengen said gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “We're here, we're happy to be here with you... that's all we need to focus on, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back, letting your eyes flutter shut. You took his words to heart; since then you didn't dwell on why, only fixing your attention on the four people you loved the most. Not even death could pull them from your side.

“[Name]! We've been waiting for you!”

“Give them a moment, Makio!”

“Are you alright, [Name]...?”

And yet, even with Tengen's arms around your waist, and the sound of your wives calling you from the kitchen, there was a hollowness that you tried desperately to ignore.

Hinatsuru's face peeked out from the corner, a look of concern washing over it at your shaking form still held in Tengen's arms. Your husband and wife exchanged a look, before Tengen let go of you and stepped back, allowing Hinatsuru to step forward.

Her hand moved to your cheek, lightly brushing your jaw with the pad of her thumb. “What’s with that look… Aren’t you happy to spend the day with us?”

You leaned into her hand, your skin burning for the touch. Against your cheek, her fingers were as chilling as Tengen's.

“No...” You murmured. “I'm happy. I love you.”

Her concern softened into a smile, and she kissed your jaw, lips lingering long enough to whisper a promise into your skin. “We love you too. In this life, and in every one afterwards.”

🏷️ taglist: @mollzaj, @mitsvriii, @an-angstyteen

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[borderline-culture-is]

BPD culture is having selective memory when you split.

I'm too focused on your best parts to remember when you've wronged me, you just look like the best thing that has ever happened to me! Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky to meet you, or maybe it was destined. I cherish the memories and conversations we shared, the little moments, everything...

Wait why did you just do that to me.

I take it back, you never meant jack shit to me! I don't recall a single moment where I wasn't in fucking agony when thinking about you. I never wanted you on my mind in the first place! Fuck off you cunt, I can't believe I even allow you to be in my life, but I'm so insufferably tolerant, you should be grateful honestly. You make me so nauseous... I had to filter, mask and hide everything around you.

And then there's that weird empty/hazy area where I openly acknowledge both sides without feeling anything whatsoever. That's the most peaceful yet unreal feeling ever.

-🎭🦊⬛ of ❌🩸📼

.

[a-minke-whales-tale]

CLCZ and P-shifters

A bit of a rant over some frustration of just how things are.

Lately there has been a fair amount of discourse showing up about P-shifters lately particularly that of "reclaiming" the word (it is disputed if it is reclaimable) and some of it I just find distressing. I was reading Rani's blog (@a-dragons-journal) and some of the history they had written about P-shifters compared to CLCZ (clinical lycanthropy/clinical zoanthropy). With my memory as it is, much of my personal memory is missing, and really I cannot remember so far back, or even how long I have been in therian and later otherkind communities.

But I do remember how whenever I would talk about my experiences, or talk about them in any real detail, I would always have to preface it with specifying that it was a delusion, that I knew it wasn't real. That I had to play this game of "showing insight" and double bookkeeping what was real to me and what was real to others. I remember hearing over and over that if someone would claim to P-shift that they were either lying, purposefully manipulating others, or very sick. And so the "price of admission" so to speak to my community was to make sure others knew we knew that our experiences were delusion and hallucination, if indeed we were tolerated at all. But all this basically had the effect to say that our experiences were not real, not like "normal" therians, something I would be reminded of over and over.

I admit that when I look at quite a few of those who call themselves P-shifters and want to "reclaim" it (at least at the current moment and those that I see who are already much more likely in the CLCZ sphere and so there is likely selection bias), it often strikes me as not so meaningfully different to how I and others experience CLCZ, with the notable exception of one being medicalised, and one not. Almost all the CLCZs I see and interact with and describe their experiences, we will write about that this a word given to us by the humans to describe what we experience. But we almost universally reject the belief it is a delusion. It is real to us, but the humans, the doctors especially that give us various markers like psychotic and schizophrenic, they see it as a delusion. Why they cannot see it, or refuse to believe it, people have different reasons for that. But I at least myself believe that if I stopped my medicine, my body would turn back into that of a whale - I feel it, and see it as the medicine in me weakens.

But to use the term CLCZ for yourself, it implies a number of things about you, among which that at some amount you know that others believe your experiences are a delusion, and also very likely that you are dealing with some rather severe mental health problems. Rani notes on their blog quite a bit lately of people attempting to "reclaim" the term, and that it has a long bad history and that the term was not meant to describe CLCZs, and that at least some of these people in the past took advantage of CLCZs, so it is entirely possible that the people using the term now I encounter are either not the same people, or only a subset, or people taken advantage of by mentioned malicious actors. However, I do understand the desire why they would claim it. The term CLCZ itself says basically "hey I am crazy and my experiences are not real or valid". Similarly so much of the discourse when people talk about why they accept (or really tolerate) CLCZs but not P-shifters is that we acknowledge it is delusion, and so ultimately that we acknowledge our experience is not real, or at least not real to others. Similarly for when writing about our experiences as CLCZ outside talking to other CLCZs, we have to play the game of double bookkeeping, what is not real to others, or probably not real, and having to tag things with unreality. I really understand the appeal, that desire, to not have to preface every interaction with others that our experiences are not real. I feel it very strongly.

To be clear, this is not a callout post of Rani or the people in the posts, if I had a problem or disagreement with them I would just talk to them (Rani at least), I think we are both reasonable enough people. Reading their posts and thinking about it over the past week or two is just what prompted this post.

Nor to be honest do I know if there is a good solution. It is incredibly freeing to express my experiences as real and genuine and have them believed as such by others like me and not have to minimise myself, my experiences, my memories. I have a couple CLCZ friends like me and I am so grateful to have them and have that space to talk with them. But is it good for use to express what we actually feel, or does it hurt others: others the humans mark as schizophrenic and delusional? I do not know. Even if I did, I certainly doubt there would be a one size fits all approach. I may want to have my experiences, and see those of other CLCZs, expressed genuinely, without us having to essentially reality check ourselves to be tolerated, but would other CLCZs? I may not want to "recover" myself, having been through medical systems I only want to be functional enough the humans will not lock me away again. Nor would I blame others if they do not wish to "recover" themselves. However, some people may want to "recover", no doubt for some people these experiences cause a lot of distress and pain directly (rather than indirectly of how we are or have been treated) and they may wish to seek intervention. But then the question is where is drawing the line between "encouraging delusions" and "reality checking"? Is stating my experience openly without reservation "encouraging delusions" in others. Really I do not know, though I often think people that are commenting about this are often not the people affected.

I am really just rambling now. I have written this over the past couple days. It is a mess. It is just a shitty situation to be in, and maybe there is not a good solution. Maybe sometimes, things just have to be a certain way and there is not anything that can be done.

Please I do not want to debate the validity of P-shifters, nor am I reclaiming the term myself, I only wanted to express frustration that CLCZs are only tolerated if we make it known we know we are delusional, or others see is that way, and having to minimise our own experiences to be tolerated.

[strawhatghost]

Time Capsule - a container storing a selection of objects chosen as being typical of the present time, buried for discovery in the future.

One of the biggest things that gets me about this au is the fact Sabo doesn't know his brothers anymore, and he's metaphorically a time capsule to them. He's the exact same he was before he died, he hasn't changed one bit for better and for worse. It's bittersweet, he barely knows his brothers anymore and they barely know the real him to the one they've been remembering all these years. (The memory of a dead love one gets warped sometimes, its human nature. We'll always forget their flaws and little annoying traits to keep them in a good light in our memories...)

Some thing's to note!

The flowers at Sabo's feet are forget me nots, which symbolize remembrance! Blue roses can mean an assortment of things but I went with resilience and uniqueness (a unique and complex situation their in). The birds are dead canaries, because Sabo has always felt like a caged bird. The birds are free but they've died, just like Sabo did when he set out to sea. The flames resemble the fire in his ambition, the fire that made him run away again, and the fire of his ship when he was first shot at.

Inside his chest 'the memories ' a bottle of sake for the brother ceremony, the ASL flag they used to fly, a beaded bracelet I imagined Ace to have as a kid, his infamous pipe, his goggles, the handle of a hunting knife, and pictures of his brothers stacked together!

Im gonna start tweaking.

they make me so unwell it's unreal

[max1461]

I guess like. Part of what's freaking me out so much is that I can't find any reports or stories or anecdotes or anything anywhere of someone having experiences like mine, either with TLE or with anything else. I can't find a diagnosis that seems to match all my symptoms, because TLE + trigeminal neuralgia are what I'm actually diagnosed with, and there's a bunch of shit that just doesn't seem to fully fit from anything I'm reading.

MRI turned up nothing; I've considered the possibility that I had a TIA which could have other unpredictable cognitive effects but there's no way to know at this point.

Maybe it's because my search terms are fucked up. But basically my symptoms, mentally and physically, are like:

selective amnesia, where I can't remember certain people's faces (but some people's faces are fine) even though I can remember other aspects of these people, events in which they were present, etc. In addition to not remembering their faces, they feel "unreal", as though they're people from a dream or something, like they don't exist even though I know they do. Memories and emotions related to these people feel as though they are "attached to no one in particular" even though logically I know otherwise

phantom smells; if I try to push myself to remember the "missing information", I get an intense burning rubber smell. very consistent

A generalized feeling of being half-dreaming at all times, like I'm in a weird waking dream state during the day and then not fully sleeping at night

in the beginning, temporal lobe seizures, although they have largely gone away with medication (the other symptoms have been unaffected)

really intense muscle tension that, over the course of a two months, has only slightly relaxed; feels like my gut muscles are almost frozen so it's really hard to go to the bathroom; neck, back and face muscles feel similarly frozen in a tensed position and I can't relax them no matter what I do, to the point that it's painful.

a throbbing numb sensation in my palate and nasal cavity

periodic pressure in my sinuses and ears which peaks and then disappears, often accompanied by loud ringing in my ears (I've always had tinnitus but this is way worse) and pressure that makes my ears feel like they are about to explode. Often makes me repeatedly gag when this happens, but due to weird numbness in my palate area I can't fully gag so I just partially retch a few times and then stop. pressure can last for a few hours at worst.

intermittently, a weird "woozy sensation" in which I feel weak, feverish, and almost intoxicated, and my whole body feels warm. sometimes only affects part of my body. I have no actual temperature when this happens but it feels just like a fever.

a bunch of other random weird shit, mental and bodily

I am rather scared, because I can't find anything, anything, diagnostic or anecdotal, with symptoms like this.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

I am not usually one to offer diagnoses of people I’ve never met, but it does seem like the pundit class of the American media is suffering from severe memory loss. Because they’re doing exactly what they did in the 2016 presidential race – providing wildly asymmetrical and inflammatory coverage of the one candidate running against Donald J Trump. They have become a stampeding herd producing an avalanche of stories suggesting Biden is unfit, will lose and should go away, at a point in the campaign in which replacing him would likely be somewhere between extremely difficult and utterly catastrophic. They do this while ignoring something every scholar and critic of journalism knows well and every journalist should. As Nikole Hannah-Jones put it: “As media we consistently proclaim that we are just reporting the news when in fact we are driving it. What we cover, how we cover it, determines often what Americans think is important and how they perceive these issues yet we keep pretending it’s not so.” They are not reporting that he is a loser; they are making him one. According to one journalist’s tally, the New York Times has run 192 stories on the subject since the debate, including 50 editorials and 142 news stories. The Washington Post, which has also gone for saturation coverage, published a resignation speech they wrote for him. Not to be outdone, the New Yorker’s editor-in-chief declared that Biden not going away “would be an act not only of self-delusion but of national endangerment” and had a staff writer suggest that Democrats should use the never-before-deployed 25th amendment. Since this would have to be led by Vice-President Kamala Harris, it would be a sort of insider coup. And so it goes with what appears to be a journalistic competition to outdo each other in the aggressiveness of the attacks and the unreality of the proposals. It’s a dogpile and a panic, and there is no one more unable to understand their own emotional life, biases and motives than people who are utterly convinced of their own ironclad rationality and objectivity, AKA most of these pundits. Speaking of coups, we’ve had a couple of late, which perhaps merit attention as we consider who is unfit to hold office. This time around, Trump is not just a celebrity with a lot of sexual assault allegations, bankruptcies and loopily malicious statements, as he was in 2016. He’s a convicted criminal who orchestrated a coup attempt to steal an election both through backroom corruption and public lies and through a violent attack on Congress. The extremist US supreme court justices he selected during his last presidential term themselves staged a coup this very Monday, overthrowing the US constitution itself and the principle that no one is above the law to make presidents into kings, just after legalizing bribery of officials, and dismantling the regulatory state by throwing out the Chevron deference. [...] Biden is old. He was one kind of appalling in the 27 June debate, listless and sometimes stumbling and muddling his words. But Trump was another kind of appalling, in that almost everything he said was an outrageous lie and some of it was a threat. I get that writing about the monstrosity that is Trump faces the problem that it’s not news; he’s been a monster spouting lurid nonsense all his life (but his political crimes are recent, and his free-associating public soliloquies on sharks, batteries, toilets, water flow and Hannibal Lector, among other topics, are genuinely demented). He’s a racist, a fascist and a rapist (according to a civil-court verdict). We are deciding whether this nation has a future as a more-or-less democratic republic this November, and on that rides the fate of the earth when it comes to acting on climate change. If the US falters at this decisive moment in the climate crisis, it will drag down everyone else’s efforts. Under Trump, it will. But the shocking supreme court decisions this summer and the looming threat of authoritarianism have gotten little ink and air, compared to the hue and cry about Biden’s competence.

Rebecca Solnit at The Guardian on why the pundit class is calling for Joe Biden to suspend his campaign but not Donald Trump to also do the same (07.06.2024).

Rebecca Solnit's opinion column at The Guardian regarding the pundit class's demands for Joe Biden to end his campaign over a bad debate performance but not for Donald Trump to do the same over his 34 felonies is a masterclass.

[unwelcome-ozian]

What are Dissociative Disorders?

The essential feature of dissociative disorders is a disruption in the usually integrated functions of consciousness, memory, identity, or perception; during periods of intolerable stress, the individual blocks off part of his or her life from consciousness.

Dissociative identity disorder. First recognized in DSM-III as “multiple personality disorder,” dissociative identity disorder is defined in DSM-5 as requiring two or more fully distinct personality states, which in some cultures may be described as an experience of possession. Dissociative amnesia. An inability to recall important personal information, usually of a traumatic or stressful nature. In DSM-5, two primary forms are listed: localized or selective amnesia for specific events and generalized amnesia for identity and life history. A major change in DSM-5 is that dissociative fugue is now a specifier for dissociative amnesia, not a separate diagnosis as in DSM-IV. Localized amnesia. Inability to recall all incidents associated with a traumatic event for a specific time period following the event. Selective amnesia. Inability to recall only certain incidents associated with a traumatic event for a specific period following the event. Generalized amnesia. Failure of recall encompasses one’s entire life. Continuous amnesia. Inability to recall events subsequent to a specific time up to and including the present. Systematized amnesia. With this type of amnesia, the individual cannot remember events that relate to a specific category of information, such as one’s family, or to one particular person or event. Dissociative fugue. A sudden, unexpected trip away from home or customary work locale with the assumption of a new identity and an inability to recall one’s previous identity. Depersonalization disorder. Characterized by a temporary change in the quality of self-awareness, which often takes the form of feelings of unreality, changes in body image, feelings of detachment from the environment, or a sense of observing oneself from outside the body.

[goldensunset]

i’m thinking thinking how like… it’s sad how so little information about daybreak town, the foretellers, the keyblade war, and the dandelions has survived to this day. it’s probably bc there were just so few people left immediately following daybreak’s destruction who would’ve possibly known anything that could be passed on. i mean ephemer basically had to take care of refounding a society and passing on precepts singlehandedly

and like while it could just be that a lot of historical information was lost over the generations in scala, i also feel like when the entire society basically worships ephemer, they’re gonna take good care to keep tabs on everything he says and writes. so did he just not say a lot? was he uncomfortable with going into detail about the truth of the war and daybreak’s destruction? the friends he once knew? was he trying to bury his pain and let his memories be lost to history?

point is like there should be an easy way for ventus, skuld (if she is subject x), lauriam and elrena (if she doesn’t already know lol) to remember who they are. like it should be as simple as finding some historical records somewhere. but either ephemer like took his painful secrets and memories to his grave, the worlds are so scattered and broken up that that information simply isn’t present anymore. either that or a whole lot of modern-day people are gatekeeping the knowledge from others for dubious purposes (like xemnas, xigbar, possibly eraqus himself)

plus, it’s not entirely just ephemer who would’ve known things. brain shows up a few centuries later with information from the age of fairytales fresh in his mind since no time has passed for him. and luxu of course has surely been hanging around the entire time, but i’m guessing wouldn’t want to share much information with anyone on purpose

however, there is surviving information in the modern day about the age of fairytales that almost certainly could’ve only come from luxu. such as the lost masters allegedly having crossed over into unreality (<- what yen sid says in melody of memory) or the concept of the ‘true darknesses’ that overtook them (<- what odin says to vidar) ephemer might have figured out the concept of ‘true darkness’ based on the ending of ux but he wouldn’t have been able to determine anything about the numbers, nor would he know that that’s what happened to the foretellers.

so! luxu might have told all that stuff to someone himself in scala (including eph himself) or he might’ve told brain back in daybreak town. but for sure he played a hand in passing down select relevant information. but not all of it. quite interesting

[titleknown]

PD MONTH CHARACTER: K-STOP

HELLO... SPEAK... DIFFICULT. RARE. TALK. FRIENDS. ASK. PARADOX. TIME. TAKE. SPEAK. YOU. FRIEND?

---

The piantist movement was a fringe religious sect amongst the Requot people of Ploor, designed to return the thoughts and activity of the Collist species to their nautilid roots. Through selective shell deformation they rooted themselves in the spongium of their local cliffs, growing akin to sessile organisms to interface with the biosphere, maintained by noviate acolytes. This requirement for maintainance lead to their instability and ultimate demise.

-----

FUN. FACT. REAL. FICTION. USEFUL. KEEP. STABLE. TIME. TIMES. TWO TIMES. I AM. INTERFACE. MODULAR. KNOWING. DOING. FAILURE.

-----

When you cannot but you musth, mush the musk with new Deor Palangis! Palangis uses patented erotoxins to counter unsightly drippings and craven urges, so you can be your best self at your worst times! Deor Palangis, Mush the Musth!

------ ELEPHANTS. ONE. NAUTILIDS. TWO. PEOPLES. SEPARATE. CONTRADICTORY. IRRECONCILABLE. CREATOR. OBSERVER. ANTITHESIS. SYNTHESIS. PRESUMPTION.

I AM. 

NEGOTIATION. DIPLOMAT. COLLATOR. ACTION. ACTIVE. AGENCY. KINDNESS. POWER. HISTORY. MONTAGE. FEAR. CONFUSION. HORROR. COLLAPSE. FAILURE.

I AM. STILL HERE,

-----

The Palace of the Shells, while simple, is believed to be the first emanation into the arts of biomemory. Its palaces influential in their day even now within the oldest nacre-speaker works. These walls still whisper with their potential, but we hear them talk even now, from pod to pod-

-----

TESTAMENT. TIMELINE. YOURS. SURVIVE. FAILURES. INITIAL. YOU. BORNE. 

I AM. DESTROYER. USHER. PROTECTOR. MEMORIAM. SAVE. YOU. SAVE. POSSIBILITY. SAVE. THEM. HOPE. GRIM. TRUTH. MEMORY.

----

Today we gather not for one moment of the now, but for the thousands before us. Even as we laid upon the tundra our ancestors reached their trunks to perhaps touch the great eye of the mother as she looked upon our primal manes. The great pyramids, the kitestar tapestries, the Zeppelin Palaces of the Royal States, all to touch the heavens and our mother therein. And now, before us, we have the great cord to the stars, the tendril to reach-

----

DREAM. SILLY. HA. HA. MEMORY. UNREAL. REAL. YOU. REMEMBER. PLEASE?

TRUTH. URGENT. FIND. SPEAK. HELP.. FOUND. FRIENDS. HELP. AID. CARE. STAY. PRESERVE. WRITE. SHOW. MAKE. MAINTAIN. FUNNY. KIND. STRANGE. LOVE. CARE. STAY.

I AM. HAPPY?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Fun fact: The K stands for Kuleshov! Like the effect! And her profile's a bit avant-guarde in terms of storytelling, so let me elaborate. Because she doesn't speak directly much, she usually prefers conveying things via image-montage but that wasn't going to happen here.

Long story short, once upon a time there were two competing timelines trying to exist, one where nautilids evolved to be the dominant sapience and one where pachydermids evolved to be the dominant sapience. They both deserved to exist, both possessed great wonders, but they were both mutually contradictory. 

A being out of time, noticing this and trying to remedy it, created K-Stop to try and reconcile them. She failed.

But, a third timeline ascended from the ruins of both mutually annihilating each other. Ours. And that is where she exists, but as a paradox due to being meant as an intermediary between two timelines that no longer exist.

She manifested during the Freak Legionnaires' earliest story as an unstable wreck, only fixed in form by several members and giving enough testimony to stabilize her form (She is a far more coherent writer than she is a speaker), and decided to stay because she likes them. She still believes she can find some way for the other two timelines to exist without overwriting this one, though it is unknown if she is correct here.

Ironically, despite her weird outlook and bizarre perspective, she's kind of got big "The only adult in the room" energy with regards to the rest of the team, in terms of managing the household and interacting with others and diplomacy and such, though she's often silent about it in a way that makes it somewhat subtle.

As with the others this month, this character and all the info/art/ect of her is under a CC0 Public Domain License! Have fun!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Iam not usually one to offer diagnoses of people I’ve never met, but it does seem like the pundit class of the American media is suffering from severe memory loss. Because they’re doing exactly what they did in the 2016 presidential race – providing wildly asymmetrical and inflammatory coverage of the one candidate running against Donald J Trump.

They have become a stampeding herd producing an avalanche of stories suggesting Biden is unfit, will lose and should go away, at a point in the campaign in which replacing him would likely be somewhere between extremely difficult and utterly catastrophic. They do this while ignoring something every scholar and critic of journalism knows well and every journalist should. As Nikole Hannah-Jones put it: “As media we consistently proclaim that we are just reporting the news when in fact we are driving it. What we cover, how we cover it, determines often what Americans think is important and how they perceive these issues yet we keep pretending it’s not so.” They are not reporting that he is a loser; they are making him one.

According to one journalist’s tally, the New York Times has run 192 stories on the subject since the debate, including 50 editorials and 142 news stories. The Washington Post, which has also gone for saturation coverage, published a resignation speech they wrote for him. Not to be outdone, the New Yorker’s editor-in-chief declared that Biden not going away “would be an act not only of self-delusion but of national endangerment” and had a staff writer suggest that Democrats should use the never-before-deployed 25th amendment.

Since this would have to be led by Vice-President Kamala Harris, it would be a sort of insider coup. And so it goes with what appears to be a journalistic competition to outdo each other in the aggressiveness of the attacks and the unreality of the proposals. It’s a dogpile and a panic, and there is no one more unable to understand their own emotional life, biases and motives than people who are utterly convinced of their own ironclad rationality and objectivity, AKA most of these pundits.

Speaking of coups, we’ve had a couple of late, which perhaps merit attention as we consider who is unfit to hold office. This time around, Trump is not just a celebrity with a lot of sexual assault allegations, bankruptcies and loopily malicious statements, as he was in 2016. He’s a convicted criminal who orchestrated a coup attempt to steal an election both through backroom corruption and public lies and through a violent attack on Congress. The extremist US supreme court justices he selected during his last presidential term themselves staged a coup this very Monday, overthrowing the US constitution itself and the principle that no one is above the law to make presidents into kings, just after legalizing bribery of officials, and dismantling the regulatory state by throwing out the Chevron deference.

Trump’s own former staffers are part of the Heritage Foundation’s team planning to implement Project 25 if he wins, which would finish off our system of government with yet another coup. “We are in the process of the second American revolution, which will remain bloodless if the left allows it to be,” said the foundation’s president the other day. This alarms me. So does the behavior of the US mainstream media, which seems more concerned with sabotaging the only thing standing between us and this third coup.

“Why aren’t we talking about Trump’s fascism?” demands the headline of Jeet Heer’s piece in the Nation, to which the answer might be a piece by the Nation’s own editor-in-chief titled “Biden’s patriotic duty” that proposes his duty is to get lost. Sometimes I wonder if all this coverage is because the media knows how to cover a normal problem like a sub-par candidate; they don’t know how to cover something as abnormal and unprecedented as the end of the republic. So for the most part they don’t.

Biden is old. He was one kind of appalling in the 27 June debate, listless and sometimes stumbling and muddling his words. But Trump was another kind of appalling, in that almost everything he said was an outrageous lie and some of it was a threat. I get that writing about the monstrosity that is Trump faces the problem that it’s not news; he’s been a monster spouting lurid nonsense all his life (but his political crimes are recent, and his free-associating public soliloquies on sharks, batteries, toilets, water flow and Hannibal Lector, among other topics, are genuinely demented). He’s a racist, a fascist and a rapist (according to a civil-court verdict).

We are deciding whether this nation has a future as a more-or-less democratic republic this November, and on that rides the fate of the earth when it comes to acting on climate change. If the US falters at this decisive moment in the climate crisis, it will drag down everyone else’s efforts. Under Trump, it will. But the shocking supreme court decisions this summer and the looming threat of authoritarianism have gotten little ink and air, compared to the hue and cry about Biden’s competence.

Few seem to remember that Biden’s age and his verbal gaffes were an issue in the 2020 campaign. Biden is a lifelong stutterer, and the effort to keep his words on track means that he operates under an extra burden with every unscripted answer he gives, particularly under pressure (though he had a long, easygoing conversation with Howard Stern a couple of months ago, in which he discusses his stuttering at about the 1:13 mark).

Some speech pathologists have suggested he may (not does, just may) have a disorder that sometimes accompanies stuttering, called cluttering, which is not an intellectual deficiency but a sometimes hectic and disorderly translation of thoughts into words. In recent months, actual gerontologists have said in print that Biden appears to have normal signs of aging, not signs of dementia. Nevertheless, the amateur armchair diagnosticians have been out in packs, and their confidence in their ability to diagnose from watching TV is itself an alarming delusion. I am not giving Biden a clean bill of health; I’m saying that I don’t have a basis to render a verdict (and neither do the august editors of large publications).

Few seem to remember that Biden’s age and his verbal gaffes were an issue in the 2020 campaign

Although the Biden administration seems to have run extremely well for three and a half years, with a strong cabinet, few scandals and little turnover, a thriving economy and some major legislative accomplishments, the narrative the punditocracy has created suggest we should ignore this record and decide on the basis of the 90-minute debate and reference to newly surfaced swarms of anonymous sources that Biden is incompetent. Quite a lot of them have been running magical-realism fantasy-football scenarios in which it is fun and easy to swap in your favorite substitute candidate. The reality is that it is hard and quite likely to be a terrible mess. Nevertheless, this pretense is supposed to mean that telling a presidential candidate in mid-campaign to get lost is fine.

The main argument against Biden is not that he can’t govern – that would be hard to make given that he seems to have done so for the past years – but that he can’t win the election. But candidates do not win elections by themselves. Elections are won, to state the obvious, by how the electorate turns out and votes. The electorate votes based on how they understand the situation and evaluate the candidates. That is, of course, in large part shaped by the media, as Hannah-Jones points out, and the media is right now campaigning hard for a Democratic party loss. The other term for that is a Republican victory. Few things have terrified and horrified me the way this does.

Rebecca Solnit is a Guardian US columnist. She is the author of Orwell’s Roses and co-editor with Thelma Young Lutunatabua of the climate anthology Not Too Late: Changing the Climate Story from Despair to Possibility

[sunlightfeeling]

“See You There” Concert Experience

2024.11.24 @ Port Messe in Nagoya

okay so firstly: i genuinely dont have any pictures or videos; guidelines were VERY strict to not do that and i didn’t want to play with fire even though I technically saw one person sneak at least one photo lmfao

except for this:

: )

+ map of the venue the “x” is approx. where i was sitting - i was an aisle seat; seventh row back from the front right-side; the black line in the middle represents the center stage runway thing

(it was assigned seating - I had no clue where I sitting until receiving the ticket from staff - and I have no idea how/when the seating is decided)

also idk if it really needs to be said but im not gonna do like a song play-by-play or write this in any sort of actual organized fashion

also I’ll probably need to make more of these because of flaky memory and horrendously long and yadda yadda yadda im v sorry lol

(i don’t wanna draft these too long and beautify/nitpick them too much so all spelling/grammar issues don’t exist and if you notice them fixed.. they were always like that 😇)

okay with thaaaat out of the way~

I can’t describe the feeling seeing him when he got out on stage like…..he just looked unreal

like not just drop dead beautiful but like a feeling of “holy fuck this dude actually exists” lmfao 😭

it’s just very bewildering after watching so many things with him behind a camera to now being within your own personal presence

I really don’t have an ego or whatever and even the times where im like “d-did he just look at me there?” it kind of feels like a joke but….i like to pretend that he did at least at some point (to which I immediately deny and it and pretty much say “no … lol~ 🤭”)

there are two..three moments that really make me wonder tho like genuinely/actually/not me being big headed lmao

smap songs were “One Chance” which is a solo so really only half-smap 😔; “ダイナマイト”; and “KANSHA して”

he did two (I’m pretty sure it was two lmao 😭) rounds going on the trolley thingie for a few songs to go around the perimeter, and he swung one of his legs over the cage and just let it dangle to show how bendy he still is at least twice

Both rounds included the smap songs (One Chance on the first, other two were back-to-back on the second) which kind of felt really special??? Like……it just made me remember the smap cons that I’ve watched (and tsuyoshi perpetually getting himself into precarious situations on the stupid things 😭 [i knowwww 😒 {affectionate/lighthearted}])

something that will probably live in my head rent-free (that I HOPE he does in the actual filmed con footage not only for everyone to SEE it but because I already can’t accurately visualize it 😭) is that in Crazy Party when he says “sexy” he made THE MOST absurd and hysterical expression like making himself bug-eyed and just a very not calm/cool/demure face that matches his voice (omfg that voice…..wakes up sorry)

He made himself cross-eyed three times at the very least - probably more tho

I really tried to look AT him as much as possible but there were moments where I really just COULD NOT see him or it was just…more incentivizing? to look at the front display..

(ie when he would pop his fucking jacket open and just….expose arm (we love arm) which he did WAY TOO MANY FUCKING TIMES)

..but I did stare at his back quite a bit 😗

His outfit around when he did “No Night, No Starlight” was my ultimate fave which absolutely shouldn’t be surprising and I think it’ll be everyone’s too

which is why I won’t spoil what it looks like (it’s PEAK peak tho im virtually pinkie-promising all of you)

After NoLiNoStar, he did an MC where I think (mostly going off of his mannerisms and understanding v select words so 🙃) he talks about the difficulty of the choreo for this song and like….idk probably that he’s getting too old for this shit

personally I think he should have done a backflip and he probably CAN still do one but hey! that’s just me…… 😔

sorry to spoil but yeah there is no backflip revival I know it was on all (my) of our (my) mind 😔😔

okay there’s def going to be a part 2 but I’ll write more later waaaaah byeeeee 😭😭😭

[soracities]

hey mim! i don't have really any poetry books at my house but ive been wanting to get a few. do you have any suggestions or ideas for what i should get? i don't have that much to spend so it'll only be a few books, and because it's a few im wondering if you have any favorites or anything you consider essential to have. asking because you have really excellent taste and i personally mostly read indivual poems (by usually really never the same author) rather than any sort of collections or whatever.

hello anon 🌹

I think if you can tell me which of the poems you've read that you've loved the most I can help a bit more but otherwise, if you are prone to reading individual poems more so than a single collection, then a poetry anthology is a v good thing to have at hand! Ones I've really enjoyed are A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry (ed by Czeslaw Milosz whom I love), The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry (ed. Ilya Kaminsky whom I also adore) and Staying Alive: Unreal Poems for Unreal Times--the latter is part of a trilogy which includes Being Alive and Staying Human, as well as a fourth volume which brings together different poems from the three books, and might be a good way to experience the trilogy if you're on a budget!

Otherwise I don't have essentials, only ones that have really spoken to me--this may be different for you so I would def recommend testing the waters a little by finding some poems from the following poets online--I've probably posted a fair amount of them on my blog, too, I think--and see how you feel about them. In any case, some collections I've really enjoyed were: What the Living Do by Marie Howe, Sonnets and Elegies by Rilke, The Half-Finished Heaven by Tomas Tranströmer, Poppies in July by Sujata Bhatt, Devotions / Felicity by Mary Oliver, Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón, View with a Grain of Sand by Wislawa Szymborska, Concerning the Book That is the Body of the Beloved by Gregory Orr, Tell me / What is This Thing Called Love by Kim Addonzio, Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky, A Tree Within / A Tale of Two Gardens by Octavio Paz, Almond Blossoms and Beyond / Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (Mahmoud Darwish), Selected Poems by Paul Eluard

Also, and I don't know where you are in the world or how much books will usually cost there so this will depend on availability etc, but I do think a good idea for when you're trying to find books on a budget (and which is what I did at the start and STILL do), if it's something feasible for you, is to try and locate any secondhand booksellers near you and spend some time browsing the poetry section if they have one. Take your time with them, leaf through a few, or read a handful of the poems and see what speaks to you (it's also a good way of stumbling across something you may not otherwise have discovered).

I rarely, if ever, order my books off am*z*n but I'm also lucky enough to live in a place with very good access to secondhand / independent booksellers so I know this isn't always feasible for everyone. But if you are ordering your books online, and if their selections fall within your budget, I highly recommend world of books or better world books -- again, I don't know where you live or how shipping / delivery costs would work out for you but they're a very good place for secondhand (and new) literature at a lower price if you don't have access to those in person. I hope some of this helps, but again, please feel free to come back and tell me what some of your most loved poems are or if there are uniting themes / styles in the poems you enjoy most! I hope this helps in any case and best of luck, anon 💗

[1141520851813892291920]

ENT0010

RE: Jonathan Sims, Electronic Reference Specialist (Margaret Usher Library of Discreet & Internal Research).

I am starting to realize that it was...perhaps too hasty of a decision to dismiss Jon's life before as irrelevant. As unreal as it may be - as I continue to believe that it must be - it does hold more clues to a puzzle I still can't quite get the shape of yet. He may have more useful things than computer passwords and library cards to share with me.

Much of his life was so similar to mine, I had assumed it didn't warrant careful review. We grew up in the same area, had the same distant grandmother, the same thirst for books and fascination with the darker side of the paranormal. We both got an A level in drama despite seeing no use for it, and even though he went to Cambridge instead of Oxford, our University experiences were more or less the same. He faired a bit better in the relationship department...

But instead of The Magnus Institute, this Jon caught the attention of the Usher Foundation. He was hired in a seemingly innocuous, if spontaneous, candidate selection process for a consulting research position in an academic library. The interviews were all conducted remotely, his references from the British Museum and his professors were apparently glowing, and his appointment - though perhaps too generously compensated - was not in any way...suspicious.

So far, I've regulated Jon's professional life to a temporarily necessary inconvenience, something that was worth putting up with while I oriented myself and refocused on my own investigations in this New Place [research presently ongoing. I will make a separate post with current theories]. His job was nothing too taxing - largely sitting at his computer and completing various reference requests for an academic research library. It reminded me of the Institute, in a way, in the early days. I do still quite enjoy research, and the library's resources are vast. None of the ongoing work has set off any alarms, nothing too odd - quite a few local history and genealogy requests, tracking immigration and family trees, some specialized scientific questions that were more of a challenge but not impossible, copies of old academic journals and microfiche of old newspapers. A few interesting rabbit holes that sated me enough that I bothered to finish them.

Looking back at the work log...there is more specialized research on the subjects of a more...hah- "spooky" nature: apparitions, manifestations, ESP, astral projection, irregularities in reality, etcetera. It was these topics in particular that Jon spent most of his time on. Most notably, however, these requests only come from three primary accounts: GROBI1 CUSHE1 PSHELL3 [NOTE: While this account was highly active in the beginning, requests stop entirely after 2021.

Jon was under the impression that all three of these individuals were his direct superiors in his department, though it was purely speculation as he had never, in fact, met any of his colleagues in person. His office is located in the university's library depository building, and the only other employees he ever has contact with are student workers or otherwise the depository's building supervisor.

The only one he had actually spoken to outside of emails at all with GROBI1, who sat in on his initial interview and, from what he understood, was the one who hired him. GROBI1...Gertrude Robinson, chief researcher and head of the Midwest Regional Usher Foundation office.

I am...ashamed at myself for not having realized this, or acknowledged this sooner. I have been so reluctant to accept any of Jon's memories for fear of losing my own, a fear I still hold, but how much did he...Know? I searched his apartment again, following the fake memories to hidden caches of what appears to be stolen case files...He was looking into something. I'm not sure what, other than he did NOT trust his employer...some things never change, I suppose.

I feel oddly...nostalgic with this discovery. Once again, I am sitting on the unfinished work of a paranoid archivist working secretly against the powers the be while trying to find my place in everything...or perhaps, this is just proof that things are cyclical. Will the same events unfold, just with different colors and mediums? Will I find myself walking through the remains of a destroyed world, blood drying on my paper hands?

It is a familiar fear that I feel, too, just as nostalgic as anything else. More than that fear though, I feel the rising and demanding hunger. It drives me as Beholding did, pushing driving seeking hunting each precious piece of knowledge into the thorned and venomous thickets of secrets and Things that Should Not Be. I, too, Should Not Be. I am Wrong, here. My presence in this place is a slowly spreading cancer and I have already infected so many around me. I cannot stop. I don't want to...stop.

I will not stop, until I Know what This Is.