Hey There, I'm Just Tossing An Idea Out. But Your Memory-vibes Personally Remind Me Of The Zero Escape

You are probably from final destination 5

I actually have quite the memory to share about bridges specifically... But I need more time to explain myself articulately. Your suggestion certainly has not gone unnoticed though

Lampshades

Vagus Nerve Stimulation Treatment and its Effects on Severe Depression 

As it turns out, vagus nerve stimulation may have lasting effects on those with depression. Our vagus nerves run from the brain through the neck and to our internal organs. 

An international team of researchers conducted a clinical trial on 493 adults whose major depression hadn't previously responded to treatment, and after nearly ten months of research and heavy assessments, it was found that participants who received the stimulation treatment showed improvements in their depressive symptoms. This was further proven by trial lead by Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis, which conducted their study on the wider range of 500 participants at 84 sites across the U.S. The patients from both of these clinical trials were previously found to have not been treated effectively with medication or other approaches. 

You can actually read more about Vagus Nerve Stimulation here if you're interested; 

https://www.brainstimjrnl.com/current

Knock Knock,

I'm not sure how you're going to answer this without either revealing who you are or making a new ask but alright--

Who's there?

. . . Those visuals are absolutely haunting. I'm bumping this source material to the top of my list

Holy shit- actually, those first 3 paragraphs plus that stray sentence that technically is it's own paragraph meaning the first 4 paragraphs in reality...

I no longer believe your my demon friend- I think you might be Lord Unknown. (Is only seen once in-game so far outside of the devlog and is from an optional path that gives more content)

And the group of people with only one surviving... That could've been a meeting with 6-Eyes (the cult) and the survivor could've been the cult leader.

Honestly- the fact that it's in a cabin could explain why there was a ritual set up in an abandoned cabin near my grandparents house when we were kids. (Devlog stuff, sorry just rambling)

Yeah, shit. I don't know about anything else for that dream but holy fuck, when I was reading about the first 4 paragraphs all I could think was "yup, sounds like Lord Unknown" and the cult leader

Anyway- uhhh... I'll leave you be now.

-Ashley Graves (the Coffin of Andy and Leyley)

PS: if it'll help at all, I have 2 screenshots of the only 2 times Lord Unknown actually makes an appearance, one in the devlog and the other in the game itself

The group that I saw in my dreams did hold an uncanny resemblance to a cult.. It was rather chilling to see them there, huddled in the shadows, whispering about such awful, wonderful things. Waiting for me. There is.. One small thing though. I’m not sure the men died, they simply vanished from my line of sight, all at once like the light being snuffed out of a candle. Like an illusion. Nevertheless, I feel a pull towards that name. If you could show me the screenshot, if you wouldn’t mind..

i think i responded to something you posted somewhere but i figured i'd just reach out here instead!

from my own kin stuff and source and everything, i don't know if you've gone through the magnus archives before but what you're saying sounds a lot like someone deep within the beholding to me. that need to watch, to know things even if it destroys you or others, the intake of others stories. it reminds me of jon honestly with the guilt aspect of it, or maybe even jonah or elias, maybe the archivist from the magnus protocol.

either way, you're always welcome to reach out and talk about your own experience or process of figuring things out!

-marcus keay (non-cannon magnus archive)

@the-neon-attic

I've been hearing that name come up a lot actually, among a few others. The need to watch in spite of the destruction it brings is a good way to put this feeling, you certainly hit the nail on the head there.. There's something more to this though, it's parasitic in nature. I feel as though I'm filling a hollow part of me that's raw and hungry with the mismatched parts of others' memories just to feel whole, and I never have a way to compensate them for this favor. Not in a way that really matters, or makes up for the damage. If that is what the beholding feels like, then I might just have a few questions for you.

A Dream About A Home Invasion

There has been something that I have been purposely leaving out for a while, unsure how to touch upon the subject in my documentation in these dreams but I feel as though it is important to mention now. Let’s first start with the facts;

This stage of life is not the first time that I have experienced recurring dreams. In fact, the strange occurrences in my blog have been something that has impacted me in various shades through the entirety of my life, taking many forms. Through fears of fire or fears of the sea and above all, fear of what will happen at the end of the world. One of these fears is what I’ll become when the end inevitably comes for me, and yanks me out of this shallow grave I’ve made for myself..

Sometimes, when I begin my dreams, somebody else is already there. This happened tonight, with me standing in the bedroom of Mindy Hason, and finding a dark, shadowy figure occupying the corner of the bedroom where I should have resided. Long, scraggly dangling limbs, one hand horribly scarred and mangled, the marks tight and mottled that spattered up both arms and a hollow gap in their side where the wind of their ragged breathing seemed to be sucked through. I could not meet their gaze, and yet I felt it, something calculating that sent a shiver down my spine. All I could think of was what that one- whatever they were, had said.. about people being chewed up and swallowed by the mouth of fear. Is this something I have to look forward to becoming? Will I one day have my own hands scarred and broken from tapping into too many realities? We’re both here for the same reason, we’re here for Mindy. 

I take a step towards her, and the shadow does too. Well, what do I do now? Is he heading towards her, or is he heading towards me?? Am I ready to die for a quick fix? I glance back at Mindy, who is now crying softly, shaking while she lays in bed. This was not ideal, there was a pattern we were supposed to follow here, and this was ruining everything! I take another step forward, so does he. I pause, he does too. Mindy makes a noise in the back of her throat, her collarbone trembling under the weight of her fears. It’s then that I decide to make a lunge for her, reaching out for her eyes as the mysterious guest rushes forward as well, both of us bleeding down into her sockets. 

Something clicks and whines, but Mindy doesn’t hear it. She lives out on the countryside, on her own. Years passed since she wrote her novel, ‘A Lovers Glance’, and while she does sometimes find herself feeling lonely, the solitude of her two story colonial feels safe. It feels like something she can depend on.. Mindy Hason lives alone. 

Friends from back in highschool, colleagues from her previous job before she blew up– Mindy lost touch with them all once her book rose in the ranks of popularity. Out on the countryside it's all a distant dream, and so when Mindy heard a knock on her door that September afternoon, she was surprised, and even more so when she  got up to see a milkman. A genuine milkman, donned in all white attire like in the 20s. She can see him there through the window on her way to the front door but as she makes her way to the door she pauses, taking a step backwards into the hall.

 The man leans over and peers in through the window, cupping his hands up to the window and looking in, and at last I gain a proper look at the milkman, his grin twisted and tight against his face, his eyes dark, almost shadows on his face like his flesh was simply a mask. The house remains peaceful, quiet. Even with the gentle sounds of the countryside, nothing can shake the unadulterated terror that is ringing in my ears as Mindy backs towards the kitchen to grab her phone and call the police. She backs through the doorway, reaches her hand along the counter.. The counter is smooth, bare. There is no phone to save Mindy Hason from her fate. I really wish that I had found the wherewithal to ask a question or to break myself out of the fear that was holding me down, but something in the eyes of that man just wasn’t alive, and that terrified me. It felt like a shell, or a puppet being manipulated by something insidious that I couldn’t comprehend. 

Through all this, that was when the second milk man appeared at the back screen room door, reaching for the handle, and Mindy sprints across the kitchen in leaps and bounds just to secure and lock the door in mere fractions of seconds, only to find herself face to face with this uncanny humanoid who stands at her back porch, grinning up at her with plump cartoonishly stretched cheeks. From the front of the house, she hears the door rattle and click, and the chase of running to the front door begins yet again. 

How long were we there? Back and forth, from door to door, desperately relocking and trying to keep our last means of safety unbreeched? She knows she's slowing the inevitable, but she has to resist these monsters anyway she can. She saw their eyes and she knows they aren't human. 

As she heads back for the screen door, he heart drops in her stomach to see the shorter of the two milk men had now found his way into her porch, waddling to the kitchen at an unnervingly calm pace. It's when the front door swings open from behind Mindy, that I wake in a cold sweat wondering just who the mysterious figure in my dreams is, and why he's trying to enter memories like me. 

Reblog to let prev know their presence is wanted

I'm pretty sure the weight of a cat laying on my lap would fix me right about now. That or to just be put in the medieval torture rack until my back problems are fixed- it's a 50/50 split on my hierarchy of needs