Fugue State Puns

Now that we really know that Taissa not just dissociates, but that it’s been happening since the crash.

Why did she take Van’s lucky bone that Lottie gave her, and when? She didn’t want Van to have it because she thought it was stupid. So some part of her subconscious believes what Lottie is saying.

She decided to be on watch. Then she “wakes up”.

Her wife has to notice that Taissa disappears at night and comes in dirty. Sammy has already seen her in the tree. Poor Sammy. He’s been accused of things he hasn’t done. I wonder why he calls his mom “the lady in the tree” unless he doesn’t know it’s her, but how could he not.

Maybe in a fugue state Tai comforted Sammy after seeing her in the tree, and said something about it not being her or something else. She’d definitely tell him not to tell his other mom.

However in the preview for the next episode (spoilers) >!Taissa tells her wife to leave for her own safety, and I’m assuming she means for her wife to take Sammy as well!<

When she awoke with blood and dirt on her hands, I wondered about their dog. It’s not her blood.

I’m starting to wonder if Tai could be the AQ. I’m thinking it’s probably Shauna since Taissa is having these issues. I’m also wondering if Lottie could possibly be the AQ.

TW for talk of eating disorders, alcoholism, brief mention of cutting. I don't really go into detail, but yeah.

It's been something I've struggled with especially hard lately. It's like I have to physically yank myself away from the thing I'm doing to self-harm.

I did used to cut as a teenager/young adult, and I remember going into a sort of daze most times I did it. I have a history of alcoholism, but I don't think I ever spaced out before I drank-- it was more that I drank so I didn't have to feel afraid all the time. I've struggled with disordered eating since I was nine or ten-- cycled thru different manifestations of it, but I did have some really bad binges that were, looking back, super dissociative. Wild.

Recently, I've been struggling with digital self-harm. Especially on reddit. I'll run into something triggering, and then, if I'm not doing well, I'll feel overwhelmingly compelled to read it again. And again. And again. I'll seek out threads that I know will be triggering. Sometimes I don't realise what I'm doing until I'm deep into it.

This is the kind of shit that makes me feel kinda nuts, so I was wondering if a. Anyone can relate and B. How do you deal with it? I usually leave and go outside, but that isn't always an option, so I force myself to switch gears. Its so harmful for me when it happens, though.

Hi folks,

I posted about this in the Vulfpack but didn’t get a response. My copy of Vinyl Discography has a handwritten label on Fugue State. It plays normally and all other labels are proper but I have no clue why it’s missing a normal label and written in.

It’s an original Michigan pressing with a blank spine.

I’m curious if it’s written in by the band or someone at the plant. Is this a known issue? Does anyone know Jack’s handwriting? (I’m half joking)

https://imgur.com/a/n48Iu3q/

The photos are attached above.

Thanks!

I’m typing my experiences out right now so future humans might understand what happened to me. Maybe someone will share the same experience. Maybe it’ll help them, and I hope it does. Nothing has been able to help me to this point. In fact, when I am done writing this, I will be dead.

My brain works differently than most. I know most people could say that. In the truest, technical summarization of that statement I suppose every single person’s brain works in a different way. I’ll explain more about me specifically later. For now, I want to paint a picture for you. That’s one aspect of how I think. I feel better if the reader gets the most complete picture they can from the author. You can of course fill in the blanks and use your imagination to see what you want. But I’d rather over explain my setting to you. If you don’t want to hear it than that’s your prerogative.

So before I start waxing my disturbing tale, let me start by describing my writing area. I’m using a low to mid-level laptop to write this. It’s an HP, not sure the model or anything else about it. I use good old Microsoft word. No fancy programs. The desk itself is an old hand me down from my grandpa. It is wood, maybe mahogany? And it has three drawers on either side. Currently all six drawers are unoccupied. I have one of those older style lamps with the green half glass shades on top, if that makes sense. The base is gold with a long chain to pull that turns it on and off. I probably don’t need to explain how lamps work to you.

The lamp is to my right. I have one of those cheap plastic office organizers with pens, paper clips, post its, and the like right next to it. Not sure why to be honest. I don’t ever need to clip or note anything. To my left is a notepad. It’s the one with the black and white cover that kind of resembles TV static. Next to that is a gray stone coaster with a glass of Canadian Whisky sitting on it. I already feel better now that I’ve given you all that general description of where I am at this moment. Knowing that I won’t be on this earth soon feels ok now. Someone will read this, and it will help. The Whisky will help me at the end too.

It started 20 years ago. Until that moment, I was a normal person. A little bit obsessive with a side of compulsion, but still as normal as the next. Let me clarify. I WAS normal. Until I met kiljoe. One moment I’m taking a quick nap in my university’s library and the next moment I’m watching a violent stranger strangling a

Or how they keep ending with him mostly unclothed in the presence of school kids.

It would be really funny I think

I’m typing my experiences out right now so future humans might understand what happened to me. Maybe someone will share the same experience. Maybe it’ll help them, and I hope it does. Nothing has been able to help me to this point. In fact, when I am done writing this, I will be dead.

My brain works differently than most. I know most people could say that. In the truest, technical summarization of that statement I suppose every single person’s brain works in a different way. I’ll explain more about me specifically later. For now, I want to paint a picture for you. That’s one aspect of how I think. I feel better if the reader gets the most complete picture they can from the author. You can of course fill in the blanks and use your imagination to see what you want. But I’d rather over explain my setting to you. If you don’t want to hear it than that’s your prerogative.

So before I start waxing my disturbing tale, let me start by describing my writing area. I’m using a low to mid-level laptop to write this. It’s an HP, not sure the model or anything else about it. I use good old Microsoft word. No fancy programs. The desk itself is an old hand me down from my grandpa. It is wood, maybe mahogany? And it has three drawers on either side. Currently all six drawers are unoccupied. I have one of those older style lamps with the green half glass shades on top, if that makes sense. The base is gold with a long chain to pull that turns it on and off. I probably don’t need to explain how lamps work to you.

The lamp is to my right. I have one of those cheap plastic office organizers with pens, paper clips, post its, and the like right next to it. Not sure why to be honest. I don’t ever need to clip or note anything. To my left is a notepad. It’s the one with the black and white cover that kind of resembles TV static. Next to that is a gray stone coaster with a glass of Canadian Whisky sitting on it. I already feel better now that I’ve given you all that general description of where I am at this moment. Knowing that I won’t be on this earth soon feels ok now. Someone will read this, and it will help. The Whisky will help me at the end too.

It started 20 years ago. Until that moment, I was a normal person. A little bit obsessive with a side of compulsion, but still as normal as the next. Let me clarify. I WAS normal. Until I met kiljoe. One moment I’m taking a quick nap in my university’s library and the next moment I’m watching a violent stranger strangling a