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trainingdummyrabbit · 1 month

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which character ya wanna post about? (invitation to go off)

ouuHGUHUGHHG ive been rotating this around for hours bc ive redirected myself like 5 times since u sent it but ithink i got it i got it this time. i wanna talk abt porccubus. ok gimme a minute gimme a minute

so like. i know theyre technically the same thing, across lobcorp/ruina, but i really really wanna dissect the weird contrast it has going on there. (though, isuppose, their "same"ness is kinda up in the air re:abnos, considering there was a librarian snippet abt child of the galaxy being more "vicious", but wwwwwweh [waves hands around])

so like. the thing about lobcorp porccubus is that its just. an odd fucking creature. like yeah obviously, but its about the way its perception seems to weave around it. its core themes, that of pleasure and euphoria, uncontainable and uncontrollable, would imply that its something impulsive, stimulation-seeking, something that is driven wholly by desire and would be difficult to pin down. however, the way that its logs and flavor text are written give off a much more... subdued vibe, for lack of better words to describe it.

it is the source of that elation, yes, but everything in the way it holds itself is so withdrawn. it simply floats there, yes, but there is little to no mention of it making any moves of its own (which, now that i recheck its info log, is also mentioned plaintext!) and its in-work flavor text seems to speak with the tone of someone Studying it, Speaking about it, rather than observations of its movements or descriptions of its mindset. its all very distant. speaking in third person to someone who is listening. ...right?

which is to say: whats wrong with this dog. its story implies direct exploitation yet it just… it Just. its some strange little animal. its not malevolent and trying to kill people for fun. but it also isnt all sad like petals plucked from a daisy. it just Is. it has almost the same sort of feel as some sort of object. and yet it is clearly alive. does it have a will? it must; as abnormalities Do. so what is it? it functions by its own rules and just kinda Goes Here. does it want? does it need?

porccubus itself acts more like a Service or Trade than an actual creature. you walk in and interact with it, and it knows what to do in response. game of trust - it does a little song and dance as is its nature, yet doesnt seem to desire much more.

which also brings me to the shackle-- the little necklace around its neck. it speaks about how it was chained up, for whatever reason, and yet nobody seems to have any idea why. and porccubus... just doesnt seem to mind it. never mentions it. its such a particular type of indifference. (i suppose another good question is what is it shackled to?) and even further still... what does it mean that the ego gift it grants Is that necklace?

lc!porccubus as a creature is laced with restraint. both in a literal sense, And in an internal sense. pleasure and euphoria, yet it is definitively restrained. it cannot reach out first. it does not act on its own, but rather waits for something else to reach out First. even when it breaches, it (according to what im reading,) simply... waits. waits for an approach. (you Must approach it. it has to be a Choice.) theres something very Aimless about it, mechanical almost. i cant really sum it up in any way other than That Is An Animal.

...which brings a very interesting contrast between It and its Ruina counterpart. in the library, its much more Jubilant. it speaks, for one, which is something i straight up didnt know it did for a while. the way that it presents itself outwardly is much more outspoken-- inviting, wanting someone to engage, trying to persuade that first step. it yearns! pet it! it wants to share what it has to give, but it still wants that hand of yours offered to it First. its happy! its happy! come be happy with it!! dance with it, play with it! its demeanor is so much more forward, more present... more conscious.

and crucially... that shackle is no longer tied about its neck. rather, it dangles loose from the end of its tail, almost like an accessory rather than something granted/given to it. does this represent the release of former ties? it certainly acts more free than it did before-- whatever was holding it back, is it gone now? is its shift in demeanor the jubilant frolicking of that which has never been able to soar? is this what allows its nature of wishing to share that elation to shine through? much like a dog chained to a stake, finally being set loose in an open field.

in an unspoken turn of events, porccubus seems to focus on Release. release of ties, release of inhibitions, release of that which had been holding you back. it wants nothing more than to give what it is experiencing to those which are weighed down by things that keep them unhappy. and yet, it does nothing to truly alleviate what those woes are, simply covering them up with a layer of unrelenting sweetness.

..............which of course, brings me to angela. yeah yall thought i could go an essay without her?? lol. lmao.

on the floor realization centered around her staunch desire to live, it almost seems to stick out like a sore thumb. with all of the withdrawn mourning and wishing that the rest of the phases share, pleasure is an odd slap in the face, almost. but... it really does make it hit that much harder-- Especially with that which was expanded upon above. the imagery of unshackling yourself from that which held you down, allowing yourself to feel things you never were able to-- never were Allowed to. is that not what she stands for, here?

its reaching towards an open door, trying to grasp to any amount of Living that you can reach-- you deserve that much, at least. at the Very least. you Have to be allowed something. but not only is it that desire, but its also the Ignorance. the understanding that no matter what you mask it with, all that baggage still remains. chasing those short, intense bursts of happiness-- everything else still continues to eat away at what's underneath. and yet, theres still a consciousness to that. even further than that, a commitment.

who cares what becomes of you because of this? this happiness-- this which you were never allowed to so much as dream of-- is right within your grasp. and to taste it for even the smallest of moments, the briefest amount of time-- that makes it worth it. it was all worth it. nothing matters more than this complete devotion to sensation. it doesnt matter if it tears you apart from the inside, this is what you were always looking for. this is what you deserve. and youll do anything to hold onto it.

in some odd way, it really is about rotting.

in conclusion,

#THANKYOUUUU um um um. this ended up longer than i thought itd b and im not sure if its coherent but i think abt it all the time godbles #ispent like an hour typing in circles yesterday but i GOT it. igot it. i gotit.#piktalk #projmoon #long post #...speaking of its ties to the art floors themes... its one that kinda hit harder th more i teased out abt it.#bc that Is very real. that almost paradoxical lashing out in that way; desiring even if it kills you; even if thats what you wanted t avoid #its the want to reclaim the self through any means necessary. its discordant. it almost seems helpful. but...#...anyway i just think its funny is all ^w^ funy silly lil thang !

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readingat3amisnormal · 2 years

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“So there I was, slowly sinking into the frigid waters off the gulf of Mexico with a briefcase full of GarfieldTM phones handcuffed to my ankle, and I’m certain that this is the end of the line, right? I’m tellin’ myself I did good, and that nobody coulda’ seen that triple-iso-mobius backstab- where all five of my shady business partners turned out to be a polyamorous pentuple that were gettin’ married on that Japanese whaler I’d snuck aboard- comin’. And I’m crying, and it ain’t really helpin’ cuz- y’know, I’m in the sea, and boy oh boy- when that looming maw emerged from the abyss, the only thing I could think was ‘well, it can’t be worse than New Jersey!’”

“Sir.” The service worker deadpanned during my pause for applause. “Please get off the display stand.”

“Honest-” I adjusted my position atop the tower of energy drinks, calling out to the grocery store as a new-age prophet imparting divine wisdom. “-first thing I did when I got cut out of that marine mammal’s bloated corpse- well, apart from yodel as loud as I could to tell mah ol’ pal Pichi I was still alive ‘n kickin’- was to get myself a deal with one of ‘em hot an up-comin’ IPO’s.”

“That’s not how IPO’s work!” a voice called from aisle seven.

“NOBODY ASKED!” I yelled in response. “Anywho, the CEO met me in a sewer and told me I’d been legally dead for fifteen years, can ya believe that? So, these so-called intellectual property laws don’t apply!”

I tapped the side of my head. “I’m a thinker, see? Don’t even gotta be an intellectual to own property! And I’m livin’ the life out here in small-town Idaho! Every other week the big man himself swings by mah alley an’ splashes me with some ice-cold water, which I do appreciate, then grabs mah shoulders n’ shakes me until mah brain waves line up right and I tell ‘im everythin’ I can’t remember! But I’m getting off topic.”

I swiped a can of instant energy from underneath me, bringing the stand one step closer to total collapse, and brandished it like a mace. “These things are obsolete! All you need are some porpoises and- and all we gotta do is make them salivate! I asked the local librarian, and she told me to ‘get out of her house’ so that was a bust, but the second we got that figured out we are. In. Business!”

Those last three words were punctuated by loud claps, and a wide grin. “Who’s with me?”

The static hum of the air conditioner and tak-tak-taks of various consumers dialling 911 punctuated the lack of response.

“Sir, I’m going to have to call security.” The service worker insisted.

“Hey, now, I didn’t believe it at first either,” I admitted, spreading my arms to either side. My tattered sleeves fluttered in the cool breeze. “But I am living proof that whale spit is, in fact, potable! And, might I add, surprisingly delicious.”

“Security is on their way, sir.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

I clambered down from the display stand, glancing around for the mall cops that were honing in on my location. “But hear me when I say, the days of soft drink monopolies are coming to an end! Watch, as one man brings down their empire single-handed!”

I knocked a load-bearing can from its place, and the pyramid of cans crashed to the ground, sweeping away consumers like a tidal wave. The service worker stood in place.

“Hah!” I made my way to the exit, trying to make wading through an avalanche of cans look sexy and certainty succeeding. “I mean, I haven’t eaten or drank in days an’ ah feel fine!”

With that, I tripped, fell over, and immediately passed out. The last thing I can remember is the service worker sighing, “Hey, Apio? I’m clocking out.”

I woke up in the back of an old minivan, with my face in an empty crisps bag. Cheddar, approximately seven days old, well-enjoyed. My talents are numerous and strange.

It wasn’t exactly surprising- I’d woken up in similarly unfortunate positions numerous times over the past half year or so. Still, it was never pleasant.

“So, you’re finally awake?” a familiar voice called.

I groaned. “Hey, how ‘bout we don’t do this. Just drop me off somewhere beyond the city limits an’ I’ll hitchhike mah way outta your hair.”

“You got somewhere you need to be?” the service worker asked, stoic as always from their position at the wheel. “If so, I’ll acquiesce.”

“Too early in the morning for that sorta language, friendo.” My head throbbed. “Not to impose, but could ya spare some water?”

“No whale spit for you today?”

“Ah, fuck, is that what I was on? Explains why mah tongue hurts too…”

The sun streamed through the clouded windows as we emerged from the shadows of the built-up bit of town into the fuckin’ fields or whatever. Hey, I’m from LA, sue me.

“…hey, just so ya know, I have this condition. Sometimes, mah impulse control goes outta the window, start havin’ delusions a’ grandeur or whatever... unpleasant stuff.”

I coughed. “An’, uh, that’s what was goin’ on. Sorry for, uh, knockin’ over all those cans, makin’ a mess, all that jazz. Wanted ya ta know, in case you’re plannin’ to take me out Children of the Corn style.”

“You’re on your way to a job interview.” They said, an answer which only gave me more questions. “I’d recommend making yourself presentable.”

“Wh-” A water bottle was lobbed at my head, followed by a portable dental kit. “What?”

“Family friend needs someone to stick around an old barn of theirs and make sure nobody intrudes. It’s a roof over your head and an fourth of minimum wage- which is a step up from where you were before.”

“Look-” I sat up, massaging my forehead and trying to shield my eyes from the light. “Not that ah don’t appreciate it, but ya don’t gotta do this. I just wanna get outta town.”

“And why’s that?”

I scoffed. “Ya can’t tell? Don’t wanna be around for any repeat offences.”

“You won’t have to worry about them out here.”

“Who’s to say ah won’t just bolt?”

They shrugged. It was infuriating. “Dunno. Just felt like ya needed a roof over your head, some help getting back on your feet. If you wanna prove me wrong, be my guest.”

I finally peeled myself off the floor of the minivan, leveraging myself up onto one of the seats. “No offense, but uh…. I’m not some charity case. I’m not just gonna magically get better cuz ya decided ta help me.”

“Didn’t think you would.” the minivan jerked to an abrupt stop. “We’re here.”

Old barn my ass. This place was loaded!

There was a bed, and like, running water. I’m not picky.

The service worker swung by every other day, whenever they could get some time off. Usually with some godawful board game they’d pulled from a portal to the eighties. Ghost Castle, Mr T, the Garfield board game, which I was certain was just a way to mess with me… it was kinda fun, actually.

About a month into my stint, the service worker came over with a bottle of cheap whiskey, some clearance-aisle-bound snacks, and a copy of Return of the King: The Movie: The Game. “Play as Gollum!” the perfectly preserved cover proclaimed.

“I got time off.” They said by way of explanation. “Wanna hang out?”

There’s this great thing any amount of alcohol does to me- it just absolutely obliterates my inhibitions. I’m generally not the type of person to rant about their interests. But oh boy did that not last.

“You don’t even notice ‘em until you start looking for ‘em!” I ranted, spilling my drink all over the board. “There’s all these freakin’ things hidin’ in the shadows, and like- they’re scary, dude!”

“Like what?” the service worker asked, incredulously and a little tipsily. We were having a good time.

“Oh, there’s plenty!” I parted an invisible curtain, beckoning the service worker to follow like a fortune teller. “Wanna hear about it?”

“Hit me.”

“First thing ya gotta know is- y’know the most popular stories? Bloody Mary, Bigfoot- ah, that one’s a classic- yeah, they’re all made up!”

“Really?” the service worker rested their chin on their hands, leaning forward.

“Ah, Bigfoot’s the biggest scam of ‘em all. ‘Course you’re gonna see things out in the woods, with all them trees anaw.” I leaned in closer. “What you really gotta look out for is the not-deer. They sure do look like deer, but they ain’t, and lemme tell ya sum’n’, they pro’lly never were.”

“What do they do?”

“Eat ya, if yer lucky. Else, they just stalk ya. Don’t sound too bad ‘til ya see ‘em at the edge of every parkin’ lot, pair a spooky eyes just outta range of the street lamps. Ya see ‘em in yer backyard, standin’ there ‘til dawn, never blinkin’…”

I trailed off. The service worker hesitated, then put their hand over mine.

“You, uh… you have personal experience?”

“Nah, just… I guess once ya start lookin’ for ‘em ya see ‘em everywhere.”

Look at the ground. Don’t look up.

“I just…” a shudder jolted me out of my reverie. “Began makin’ a break for mah car, ya know? Middle of the day, I’d look over and… I saw ‘em in the walls, dude! In like, the paint. The shadows.”

“That sounds awful.” They interjected softly. I swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Dunno ‘bout that. Shoulda just dealt with it. What’s the worst a fuckin’ deer’s gonna do, hunh?”

Their grip on my hand didn’t waver. “…what happened?”

I pressed my lips together. “Well… tried to deal with it, and it didn’t really work. Started bein’ all sorts’a jumpy, saw things where they weren’t, yanno. Last straw was when ah broke down in this meetin’, started wailin’ ‘bout how those things were out ta get me… no comin’ back from that. Fired on the spot.”

Despite my best efforts to supress myself, I giggled. “Five years, man. Five years ‘a work, makin’ a life for myself, savin’ for the future, and the money jus’… disappeared. Month in I couldn’ afford utilities, so that’s the water and lights gone. Started spendin’ more cash on candles than on food…”

I wiped at my face, unable to look the service worker in the eye and unwilling to stare into the darkness of the middle distance. “Silly, ain’t it?”

“It’s really not.” they whispered.

Swallow. I told myself. Stare at the ground. You can do it.

“When everythin’ dried up, I was livin’ in squalor. Not a dime to mah name, no food, no water, no light. Gets stuffy in a house on the bay without air conditionin’, so I opened the second floor window one night. Came back from the bathroom to see that-”

I choked. “Th- that- I, I dunno if it was even there, or if I was just seein’ stuff, man. I screamed mah head off, slammed the door on it, curled up in mah bathtub an’ stayed there all night. Neighbour musta’ called in a check o’ some sort, cuz that’s where the authorities found me. Shipped me off to some- somewhere, I dunno. Best guess is it was a psych ward, but if that was a psych ward…”

The grip on my hand tightened. “Do… do you still see those things?”

“Eh, sometimes.” I leaned back, tried being nonchalant, made sure not to look where the light of the campfire didn’t reach. “Don’t have the same effect anymore, ya feel? Been there, done that.”

“I-” in a rare moment of discomposure, the service worker ran a hand down their face. “Jesus, we’ve been leaving you out here all alone when-”

“Hey, it ain’t that bad.” I forced a grin. “I’m better now.”

“And that’s thanks to the psych ward?”

“Oh, this sure is.” I groaned. “Greyhound therapy, they call it, and they ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the dog. Once a week they lined the worst of us up, stuck us on a Greyhound, and gave us a free ride to the middle ‘a nowhere. ‘s how I ended up here- no offence.”

“None taken.”

I leaned back, sombre. “Ah truly shudder to think of those that actually need help and get stuck on one of ‘em accursed buses.”

“You think you don’t need help?”

“Not like they do, buckaroo.”

During the long pause that ensued, we sat back and gazed longingly at the navy sky; scattered with stars.

“You’re coming with me tonight.”

I’d gotten help.

The service worker had a friend that had a friend that knew a guy who could fit me in on his lunch break. We mostly talked about my day, how I’d been feeling… sometimes I’d go off on him about being stuck in that awful, backwater town, insult his stupid hat to hide his balding head. Make fun of his legal pad he was constantly scribbling on.

Okay, the first couple of weeks were mostly that. But he gave me advice, and it… helped. Granted, it didn’t stop the outbursts outright- I didn’t know if anything short of horse tranquilizer could- but I was better. Two months into what I’d initially assumed to be a temporary rest stop on my road trip to an early grave, I walked into the local convenience store without the service worker at my back, thank you very much, and asked for a job.

They were short staffed. You know that thing they tell you about small towns and how everybody knew everybody else, how nobody would forget you? Hogwash.

The not-deer didn’t bother me as much anymore, not that I was still looking, not that I thought they were there in the first place. I was fine with the outside at night! And to prove it, I’d asked the service worker if I could put together a lil shindig of sorts.

“Ain’t campin’ fun?” I asked, passing them a marshmallow on a stick while expertly rotating mine over the campfire. Sparks danced in the sparse light of the Idaho moon. “Nothin’ better to relax after a long day’s work.”

“Indeed.” The service worker toasted the marshmallow, flames dancing in their eyes. “I’m glad you feel more comfortable out here.”

“Hey, so am I.” I laughed, definitely not nervous. “Ah, um, got another story to tell ya.”

“Hm?” they took a bite out of the marshmallow, holding eye contact.

“Well, uh… hm. Wanted to tell ya that seeing the not-deer… it ain’t exactly where mah story started.”

“Hm.” They hesitated, then set the stick aside. “Go on.”

Welp. This was it. LA or bust.

“Used to be this big-city-bumpkin ‘n whatnot, workin’ for the city as a… y’know, it ain’t all that important. Long story short, ah decided what got done ‘n what didn’t. Got this missive from upstairs that we needed some ‘drastic changes’, so I made this proposal. Cut environmental funding by half, among other things. They jumped right onta that one.

“Got picketed by some activists, but there wasn’t much we could do at that point. And, uh… ah was kinda proud of it, ya feel? There was some real shufflin’ in there, we were gonna do some good with that budget. I felt satisfied with mah work. Started goin’ out on the town, all that jazz…”

I breated, steeling myself.

“Walkin’ down by the pier, late afternoon or early evenin’, and… I dunno, think ‘twas th’ first time ah really noticed what the effects were. I knew in mah head, but like… there’s all this junk, piled up ‘longside the shore. Yellowed grass, lookin’ sickly, an’ the place was deserted. Can’t blame ‘em, it made me ill longer ah stayed there!

“Wasn’t even the worst part...this lady, ah… longest time ah thought she was this the water djinn, thinkin’ back she was pro’lly in the same situation as me couple ‘a months back now. Ah guess she recognised me from the news or sum’n? Cuz she looked at me, and there was all this… disdain, and hurt and grief and ah knew I’d caused it. Ah cannot describe that feelin’ ta ya in words, but ah pray ya don’t feel it yourself.”

I leaned back, rubbing my face, staring up at the sky. The stars were coming out, that was nice.

“Started goin’ downhill from there… read about the not-deer somewhere on the internet. They’re jus’ deer, ‘xcept real sickly. But that image of a diseased creature just… haunted me. Ah convinced mahself ah’d been cursed, ‘n well… ya know the rest.

“Ah’ve been lyin most of the way, friendo. Tellin’ tall tales, so ah don’t have to admit what it is ah’ve actually done. An I’ve resigned mahself to tellin’ ya the tallest tale of ‘em all.”

The cicadas were definitely quieter now. The retail worker didn’t interrupt.

“That ah didn’t mean for any of it ta happen. I- that’s what they taught us! Find places ta cut costs, and that’s what we did. Didn’t… think, ah suppose. Not that it makes it any better. Ah knew the basics, the broad strokes. Didn’t think it would get that bad. Or maybe ah didn’t think ‘bout it ‘til ah was on the receiving end.

“But truly, I didn’t mean it.” I concluded. “I didn’t.”

“Hey.” The service worker leaned forward, and for the first time ever, enveloped me in a warm, Lysol-scented hug. “I believe you.”

I hugged them back.

The moon hung much lower in the sky when I awoke.

We’d retired pretty soon afterward, and why shouldn’t we have? I got some trauma off my chest, we kickstarted the healing process, pretty productive day by any standards. I just wanted to sleep…

But there was something I still had to do.

The not-deer was there, kicking at the ashen remains of the campfire, when I emerged from the tent. I held a finger to my lips as I eased the flap shut, trying not to wake the service worker. It didn’t look as scary in the predawn light. Just… diseased. And sad.

There’s a parallel there, between it and me.

I pulled out the bag of marshmallows I’d stashed in my coat and tossed one to him. It caught it in midair, almost like it had done this before. I cracked a smile.

“Hey.” I said. “I’m sorry.”

The not-deer snorted, bowing its head.

Then it was gone, galloping- or as close to galloping as it could come- into the woods.

I stared after it for some time. Not in the ‘oh wow, I’m so shocked’ way, just… ruminating. Pondering.

It had been a full year since I’d taken that walk by the pier. Damn.

“There’s worse places to start over.” I muttered, pulling up the flap of the tent and retreating inside.

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