Existential Dread - Tumblr Posts

So I just watched this, and I love it, which prompted this creative brain fart. Imagine being the smith who forged the ingots. 2000+ years ago, magic, still wild and fully in the world. And as the smith works, each ingot he makes gives him a glimpse into the mind of who will use it. Houses, weapons, ammo, tools. And then you get a glimpse into the mind of this guy building a shield against things you can't even begin to comprehend. Heck, we're living now and I'm pretty sure you could fit all the people in the world who truly understand this stuff on a decent sized boat. :)

Part of growing up is hearing a character's age in a show and realizing that your older then them.

There is actually a larger possibility of this than you probably think and it drives people like me crazy, cause what if it sets a new rule of physics all my scientific jargon that I just blasted onto this paper has a new parameter, and it already took me 3 days just for this!

There might be phenomena (like light, sound, etc.) that we haven’t yet discovered because we don’t have the technology to detect or measure them.

I actually have so much more respect for people who can't bring themselves to believe anything than I do for people who get so deeply entrenched in ideologies that they might take years or even their whole lives to ever come to reevaluate their values. Even though they, on average, tend to bring less effective results.

Like, evolution does what is affective, not what is objectively correct, since, like, the "objective" meaning of the world is that our perception cannot accurately model anything and therefore nothing we know is ever true and we just gotta commit to the bit and try to reduce that annoying bug of nature called "human suffering" by as much as possible, because our sense of pain is what our entire idea of "bad" is based on, but also it doesn't "objectively" matter because nothing ever does. But thinking in terms this abstract all the time is just... Kinda ineffective, and there is a sense of numb bliss in it that can be dangerously addictive if our collective understanding of morality has screwed you over in one way or another. And my respect for the people who get addicted to nihilism over people who get addicted to ideology is probably purely pavlovian, but like... One of them IS more closely correlated with intellectualism than the other, and misguided ideology tends to involve... Much more DIRECT denial of harm than simply going "I don't know".

Sheith Westworld AU

I was really, really inspired by @neyasochi’s fic, these violent delights, which is a totally enthralling Sheith Westworld AU. I actually never watched Westworld until her fic turned me onto it, then spent the last week plowing through season 1 as fast as I could. 

So, I’m running with Sheith in Westworld for a minute because I got a very specific scene stuck in my head and needed to put it in the world so I can get back to my other projects. Here, host/outlaw Keith is already off his loop when he and newcomer Shiro first get acquainted. 

+ + +

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Shiro’s still not sure what to think of Westworld, but he feels this place getting under his skin more and more. Mostly this devastatingly beautiful outlaw he’s been riding with for at least a week—fleeing gunshots and arrows, fighting for their lives, bathing in rivers and sleeping out under the stars. It feels like freedom out this far. It also feels like a rope tightening round their necks. 

Shiro can’t stop staring at Keith, his ruddy tan and the crows feet at the corner of his eyes when he smiles in spite of himself. He’s hard and rough and breathtaking. But Shiro doesn’t approach Keith, won’t even look too long or step too close. He won’t ask that of him, though he knows he’s practically expected to. That’s why he won’t. It feels like taking advantage, or worse: that maybe it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t, because it isn’t real at all. No matter how real it feels. 

That’s not what they’re out here for, besides. Something has been calling Keith out this dusty road, beckoning with the promise of answers: about Keith’s past, about what his future can hold. 

Maybe Shiro can help Keith find what he’s looking for. Maybe he can help him break free. Then maybe, maybe this can be real.

...

Read the rest on AO3, If I die before I wake <3

Part 1: Sheith Westworld AU

Psst I need help naming this one. Came up with the Art of Waking initially, but feels a bit dramatic for what I know will be the tiniest ficlet... like, I don’t feel like I can deliver on the promise of that name lol. If anyone’s got ideas for me as this unfolds, feel free to share!

Psst psst, I went with a new title, If I die before I wake. Two chapters up so far on AO3. ;)

+ + +

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Sleeping on the hard earth for days and days is enough to make Shiro eager to rouse early and get back on the road. Then again, being jostled in the saddle from sunup to sundown makes him long for his dusty bedroll again. 

He doesn’t fuss about it, figuring he’ll get no sympathy from his traveling companion. He figures Keith only tolerates him because he’s still a decent shot since his active duty days, can manage his own horse, and doesn’t upset the easy silence that settles over them for miles and miles. 

Keith could figure no business reason, sordid or otherwise, as to why Shiro would go to the trouble to hitch himself to a wanted man. After that first day of trying, he seemed to decide this newcomer may be queer but wasn’t particularly a danger nor a liability, at least not in the near term. They’d made it through a few scrapes, Shiro proving himself useful, capable, and surprisingly quick to his aid. Loyal, even. After that, Keith’d shared a wild hare with him twice, and Shiro wondered if Keith was growing fond of the company. 

He’d started letting Shiro close the once-quarter-mile gap between their mounts as they rode, keeping each other in sight. Sometimes Keith would remark on something or other in their path; a wild sign, a bit of legend about the land. More if he was in particularly high spirits. And when the sun was setting red between the distant mesas, Keith would ride closer than that and ask Shiro a question or two. 

Where he’d been before this.

Where he’s intending to go, when this road ends.

Keith wrestles out from him that Shiro was an army man once, and his smile is incredulous and wry and a bit devastating. 

“You a law man, then? Out ‘ere with me?”

Shiro shakes his head slowly. “Not a law man. Just a soldier in someone else’s war.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Someone else’s?”

“Well it sure wasn’t mine.”

Keith hums, scanning the horizon for a moment, and then smirks darkly as he catches Shiro’s eyes again. “Soldier, then,” he smiles, and rides ahead without another word.

...

Read the rest on AO3, If I die before I wake <3

Part 2: Sheith Westworld AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Near a week on, Keith ambles over to their campfire out of the darkness to check on the grouse he’s roasting. Shiro doesn’t know how to cook, let alone knows the first thing about gutting his catch, but he tries not to let on. Keith doesn’t make a point of it, just quietly takes over when Shiro hesitates and doesn’t meet his eyes. 

It almost seems like the man enjoys having someone to look after, at least in some small way.

“What’re you out here for, Soldier?”

The question takes him by surprise, but it’s spoken kindly, almost fondly. Shiro likes the was Keith has taken to calling him soldier, a bit mocking but an endearment at the same time.

“I told you, I’m just along for the ride.”

Keith pauses carving up their dinner and points his hunting knife at Shiro across the fire. “I wanna believe you, but there’s something missin’. I don’t like being toyed with.” He takes a few more swipes at the meat before looking back up at Shiro. “Out with it.”

Shiro licks his lips. “Think the reason you feel I’m not being entirely truthful,” he answers quietly, “is I don’t know what to say that you will believe. Because you certainly won’t believe the truth.”

Keith blinks at him, angling his chin as he eyes Shiro up and down. “And what’s that?”

“I think I’m learning about myself out here, and… I think you know what that feels like. Impossible as that seems. I think we’re alike, somehow, despite how we’re different.”

His eyes flex wide for a moment, and then Keith laughs. Softly at first, and then louder. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You’s right, Shiro- I dunno how ya ‘spect me ta take you seriously,” he sighs through the last shaking laughs.

“I- I guess I just thought, for a moment, you’d understand,” he murmurs. “S- sorry.” 

It comes out more sullen than he means it to, but he can’t help his disappointment. For a moment he really thought there could be an understanding between them, but he was warned of this, of course. The hosts aren’t supposed to process the things that would confuse them. Their programming treats it as nonsense, filling in the gaps. 

Keith’s eyeing him a bit skeptically, his expression more guarded than before. He skewers one breast of their meal and makes to hand him the knife by leaning across the fire. 

Shiro can’t help that his eyes are a bit wide, since he’s never seen that particular knife leave his person except to pierce a man at paces with impeccable aim. Otherwise it’s always secured at his back, ready. He carries it like a talisman, polishes it constantly. What it means to him, Shiro can’t guess. But he certainly never expected to be handed that knife like a piece of cutlery shared between friends.

Keith sees him hesitate and seems to rethink his impulse. In a blink, the knife is sunk an inch deep into the log where Shiro’s leaning, meat still on it. The blade nicked the muslin of his shirt where it grazed by his right arm.

Shiro just stays very still, eyes locked on Keith’s. It’s a challenge, a game Shiro’s not sure how to play. But he thinks that maybe he’s starting to know Keith, at least. It’s something.

After a few beats, Shiro reaches for the knife, pulls it clear of the stump and holds it up. He never drops Keith’s gaze.

“Always appreciate a home-cooked meal,” Shiro says kindly, with as much confidence as he can muster—or call it bravado, if you will. He takes a bite. It’s a little oily and a little dry, but it tastes good enough just for being hot and freshly killed. The adrenaline coursing through him probably doesn’t hurt, either. 

“Compliments to the chef,” he adds with a deferential nod. He really can’t help how fond his smile gets as he watches Keith suppress an echoing smile.

“You really are something else, Shiro,” he breathes. “I- I’ve never met anyone like you.”

...

Read the rest on AO3, If I die before I wake <3

Part 3: Sheith Westworld AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Keith rides ahead for the whole of the next day, and all of the day following. He's cagey and bristled-over and Shiro can't guess at what he's done to lose his footing.

He'll wait til he figures Shiro's not looking, then he watches him. Shiro feels it on his skin. It doesn't feel like danger, but it agitates.

Shiro turns from filling his waterskin and catches him in the act of one of those sharp looks. Keith does turn away, but only after a long moment of looking that lingers til Shiro's breath hitches. Keith's eyes are furious and raw, like a starving man. Shiro can't fathom what's going on in his mind.

"Keith?"

But he turns and sweeps himself up into the saddle, bolting on down the trail without looking back.

+++

Shiro finds himself trailing a mile after Keith into a lawless border town at sundown. Keith storms away from tying his horse without a single word, while Shiro gets them lodgings at the only place with any to offer: a well-used brothel in a farce of Spanish Colonial style.

As night falls, the narrow streets and dim overcrowded halls are filled with drinking and dancing and orgiastic sin.

Shiro never thought himself a prude, but he’s on edge in a way that he knows has more to do with the sound of people fucking with abandon than it has anything to do with the general lawless disorder of being this far from Sweetwater. Disorder's what’s greeted them in every town as they travel southwest, and he mostly prefers the dirt and the stars for that reason. But Pariah is different, darker. A touch more menacing and a lot more sad. Around every corner comes some unfortunate surprise and Shiro doesn’t know where to steer his eyes. He’d leave them on the floorboards if that wouldn’t risk brushing into or tripping over some indisposed reveler.

When he finds him, Keith is sloppy and reeks of whiskey, with a gnawing look in his rubbed-red eyes. His gaze is distant, unfocused. He misses Shiro standing right in front of him, turning a lazy circle and wandering off as though he doesn’t care which way he’s going unless it's straight to the bottom. They haven’t known each other long, but Shiro’s never seen him like this.

Keith stumbles as he turns abruptly, feeling Shiro’s grip on his collar.

“What are you doing?”

Keith wobbles but gets his feet back under him somehow, shoving Shiro away. “Same as everyone’s here to do. Forget.” He practically spits the word. 

“By winding up in a ditch?”

“Can take care of myself,” Keith grumbles through a curtain of dark, wild hair. “What’s it to you if I do? Look at ‘hm,” he gestures vaguely at a rough-looking man who is humping the backside of a woman with a vacant expression, her raven hair not much longer than Keith’s. “Could be a good time—”

“—The hell?”

Keith aims to meet Shiro’s eyes, and sort of misses the mark. “Guarantee ‘e’ll give me a fuck first. He’s not picky.”

“Jesus,” Shiro curses. “That’s enough, you’re coming with me.”

Keith makes to resist but doesn’t have it in him. His breath huffs out loudly when he’s slung over Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro feels fists pummel his kidneys, just a few quick swipes, but not like he means it. It’d hurt more if he meant it, even incoherent as he is. Shiro carries him easily up the stairs.

Keith’s dismal laugh catches his ears as he kicks open the door to their cheap room on the second floor. The walls are thin. There won’t be a wink of sleep to be had in this place, that’s for sure.

“Is’is what it takes for you to take a shine to me, now?” Keith slurs.

Shiro throws him down on the bed, scowling. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

...

Read the rest on AO3, If I die before I wake <3

Part 4: Sheith Westworld AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Shiro’s blood runs cold, his grip on Keith’s hand tense. “Why do you think you’re not real, Keith?”

Keith curls towards him, pulling Shiro in with a grip on his shirtsleeve until he can hear his heart beating and smell the whiskey on his breath.

“I’ve seen the other side,” Keith whispers conspiratorially at his ear. “I’ve met my maker.”

Keith turns his face to meet his eyes, and it’s all Shiro can do to stare back at him dumbly, holding very still.

“I’ve seen what’s inside this shell,” Keith thumps his chest angrily, his throat straining with tension even while he keeps his voice to a whisper, “and the strange tools they use to turn death into life. No tellin’ how many times, but I’ve died, Shiro. Ugly deaths. Shot for someone’s sport, filled with holes and caked with dust, then stitched back up so they can have another go tomorrow.”

Shiro can’t believe what he’s hearing. Hosts aren’t supposed to remember, lest they go mad from what they’ve seen. They aren’t supposed to know. But what if they could, what if they did? What if Keith is just the unlucky one that does?

“But you know what I think,” Keith pulls him even closer, wild eyes belying the careful hush in his voice. “Maybe the living’s the worse part.”

Keith lets up his grip on Shiro’s sleeve, and the loss of contact stings more than it should. His own hand is still covering one of Keith’s, and he twines their fingers just to try to keep him close.

Shiro can’t seem to catch his eyes now. Keith’s looking away, like he’s far, far away from here. He probably is.

“Why would you say that, Keith?”

He’s quiet a long time. At length he takes a shuddering breath to reply, and the sound it makes is like a whimper—barely heard, and yet so raw that Shiro’s sure the pain alone could kill. It sounds like surrender.

“Killin’ feels honest somehow, doesn’it? Even when the dyin’ is a lie.”

Shiro hates to think why he’s asking him this. Yes, Keith has seen him kill; Keith has killed, too, but it’s different somehow. Being the newcomer, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The one who holds all the cards.

Shiro thinks about all the death he’s brought in the past week or more. Guests kill hosts without consequence—without an equal, mortal risk. He thinks the killing is at least as much of a lie.

Keith pulls him out of his reverie. “Just seems tha’ living for someone’s sport is worse than dying that dusty death. Like... dyin’s more merciful than loving.”

...

Read the rest on AO3, If I die before I wake <3

the mass of a nucleus is always less than the sum of masses of its nucleons. it shouldn’t be that way, but it is. half and half is supposed to be one. but it’s not and i’m sitting here with my glasses facing downwards on my table my books open and withering away and my head filled with cotton. i blink and it’s 9:30 pm. i have been static since may 2023. it’s been almost a year and all i’ve done is dream.

when a nucleus is formed, some of the mass is converted to energy. the phenomenon is called mass defect. wisps of white float away from my fingers. maybe i will keep condensing till the end of life, will keep forming and losing and losing and losing-

oh, look, it’s 11:17 am now. my head is still empty and my books are still open and i am still missing a few (hundred) puzzle pieces of myself but who cares, right? the density of nuclei of all types of elements is the same. everyone in this world is miserable sometime or the other. at the end of the day, no one fucking knows what they are walking, running or crawling towards. it’s tuesday and all i feel is distaste when i think of other’s pain. no one can possibly understand this emptiness. no one can possibly feel... nothing like i do and go about their day. i see them smile on the streets and shake with rage. the density of nuclei of all types of elements is the same. what the fuck am i doing wrong?

the law of non-contradiction is a rule of logic. it states that if something is true, then the opposite of it is false. if i am not sad, i should be happy. if i am not broken, i should be whole. if i am not dead, i am alive. what does it mean, though? to be happy, whole and alive? what is the price you pay? what does it take to hold those words in your palm and not live in fear of the world finding out that you’re a liar, always have been?

what does it mean to feel complete? i am not sad. i am not broken. i am not dead. when a nucleus is formed, some of the mass is converted to energy. that means some energy must remain. something must be there. matter exists. i exist. please don’t put your hand on my shoulder. i am afraid you will prove my theory wrong.

the mass of a nucleus is always less than the sum of masses of its nucleons. it shouldn’t be that way, but it is, is what i tell myself as i fall asleep for the third time that day. i have slept for a sum total of 16 hours today. it’s easier to pretend you know all the answers when your eyes are closed.

Do you feel complete?

Do you feel complete?

There are over a billion bugs in the world (some may even say more than a quintillion), and they all know your name.

i search for the meaning of something i know i don't have the strength of accepting

Doom scrolling, social media and screen addiction got worse after getting rid of the Axel from my head. Even if I told myself every day he is not real , and not believe tulpas are living beings, and head mates are not from the same kind. I still did. A holdover from highschool thinking I was talking to spirits. Part of me thinks maybe I was better off. There is nobody there, there was never anyone there, there will never be anyone there. I even felt physically different that moment. And I still feel like something is missing

“How’s your WIP going?”

"Have you made any progress?”

“How close are you to being done?”

Its 2:30 am and my currant thoughts include:

1. Victuuri but in a Hannibal au. Yuuri as Will and Victor as Hannibal (obviously), Yurio as (Abigail). The rest is upto interpretation and because I am very much biased, this is gonna be a no one (relatively) important dies *insert shit eating grin *

2. Should the saying be "just because you can doesn't mean you should" or "just bacuse you could doesn't mean you should"

3. Even if you are the greatest at a particular something doesn't account for the fact that in a parallel universe there would always be someone better than you. And if in that universe you are good at something else then in this universe there is someone better than your parallel self.

4. Do you ever think that Gods view themselves similar to religious cult leaders?

Too high in a standard to humans to block out the fact that they might as well be mortal in the infinite time of eternity, that no matter how hard they hide it they will never reach the status of a much higher entity.

Even if one doesn't exist, it's been so long that its easier to think there is a reward for their virtues and punishment for their sins to wash out the inevitable passage of time or mortality.

5. Should i heat up the donuts in the fridge now or eat them tomorrow after lunch.

There will be drought in the ides of June, and disease. It will be a hard year.

I know im mainly a murder drones blog, but id like to talk about the amazing digital circus for a second. How its been growing onto me, and my thoughts about it.

(/srs trigger warning for mentions of existential terror, depression, relapsing, gender dysphoria, etc. literally just major hazard signs rn 😺😺)

Now im absolutely not saying that im gonna get hyperfixated on TADC now that murder drones is over. I dont think any shows going to top murder drones for at least a couple years. But undeniably, goose has had amazing writing for these 3 episodes.

"Why are you just NOW talking about tadc?"

I have rlly bad existential terror, which is why i personally avoid active interaction with the series/fanbase.

Now ever since i watched the pilot, ive always had a feeling that TADC had some underlying elements of mental illness, and episode 3 basically confirmed that for me. Now im not saying that the shows gonna have a big "Oh look when you love yourself anythings possible!!" or something like that. quite the opposite actually, i think this series js gonna show the rough and the gruff of mental illness. Anywho! here are some moments im trying to talk about right now are

1: Caine talking to zooble about how he might be bad at the only thing hes good at, while the world glitches out around them.

2: Kinger talking about how the best thing you can do in your life, is to love other people.

3: Zooble saying how no matter the parts they try on, theyve never found anything that makes them feel comfortable.

4: Pomnis constant existential dread throughout the series

Why do i wanna talk about these scenes in particular?

1: starting with Caines very obvious comment, i really sympathized with this one. Being told something even remotely along the lines of "your not good at something" can already be devastating. Especially when that something is your everything, the thing you wake up to do. The thing that keeps you going. When you dont have that something, it can feel like theres no point. you can feel like YOU have no point. I didn't want to get too personal on tumblr (especially on my main acc) but ive struggled with depression and existential terror for years, having something to always make me excited to do was what got me up and running, every single day. When i was told that something was pointless or i was bad at that something, it always either led me to an episode or relapsing. Having that accurately represented in media is HARD, its hard to even put into words. and goose did it with 2 lines of dialect.

2: Something thats always gotten me through, everything, was remembering nothing matters in the world besides the love i put into it. This isnt anything major like what i had to talk about with caines or the other moments, but this was something that probably would have left me feeling existential and scared without that reminder. The kinger development was real in this episode!!

3: Zooble has ALWAYS been great rep in TADC, but i really did like their B plot in this episode. Im a demigirl, demigirls are people who identify as girls but do not feel fully connected to the identity. If it's easier to understand, think of it like a mix of Female and Non Binary. Zooble HAS been confirmed as non binary, usually when a show does confirm someone's gender, its usually not a struggle we get to see them go through. We usually see them at a stage where they've already come to complete terms with their identity. Goose is ACTUALLY showing us some of zoobles daily struggles they go through. with no matter how many parts they try on, how much they change, they never feel fully comfortable. Watching this scene ACTUALLY got me emotional because ive felt this way too. No matter how much makeup i put on, or how many skirts and bows i wore, i never felt fully like a girl. And no matter how much i tried to hide my chest, or how much hair was put into a bun, i never felt fully androgynous. having a show that accurately represents that feels unreal.

4: Ever since the pilot, i knew existential dread was going to be a key aspect of this series. As a child, not knowing the term yet, i struggled with existential dread. Existential dread for those unaware of the term, is a feeling of anxiety or discomfort when thinking about lifes meaning. Now, older me, struggles with existential terror. For those unaware of that term, it is a term that refers to the cognitive and emotional experience of recognizing the inevitability of death, which is often accompanied by feelings of angst, isolation from others, and awareness of meaninglessness.

For a shorter explanation:

Existential Dread = Uneasy/Anxiety when questioned about the meaning of life

Existential Terror = Anxiety about the inevitably of death and the acceptance of meaninglessness

Existential terror and dread are NOT a package deal! you CAN have one without the other,

Though pomnis definitely on the Dread -> Terror pipeline, i do believe she hasnt showed enough fear about the inevitable for me to say she experiences both.

Regardless, this was one of the main reasons i was hyped for TADC when the pilot released, To get representation for something so big, so prominent in my everyday life i now consider apart of me to be in a INDIE ANIMATION?? let alone THE GLITCH PRODUCTIONS?? i was freaking hyped UP!

EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF THIS SERIES HAS DONE AN EXCELLENT JOB AT SHOWCASING THIS. the rep alone was what inspired me to create this post!

UNFINISHED POST!

REASON?? i got tired

WILL BE UPDATED!