Information


Regress has a minion!

Memento Mori the Hapoom




Regress
Legacy Name: Regress


The Common Experiment #2327
Owner: silas

Age: 8 years, 10 months, 6 days

Born: July 22nd, 2015

Adopted: 1 year, 6 months, 4 days ago

Adopted: November 24th, 2022

This pet has been nominated for the Pet Spotlight!

Statistics


  • Level: 95
     
  • Strength: 241
     
  • Defense: 242
     
  • Speed: 240
     
  • Health: 240
     
  • HP: 240/240
     
  • Intelligence: 82
     
  • Books Read: 76
  • Food Eaten: 1
  • Job: Post-Fight Clean Up


CREDITS

profile template (c) helix (get it)
background by Timothy Dykes @ Unsplash
fonts by google fonts
thanks to Tribe for letting me adopt her!!!
writing by me a silas
cw for terminal illness and death


you are going to die

not in the 'everyone is going to die' sense. you, specifically, are going to die. it's not some cosmic karma come to collect its debt. it's not fate. it's cancer. plain old carcinoma. no one's fault but god's, maybe, if you believe in that sort of thing.

you were—

no.

you are a believer in nature.

everything has its place on this earth, and everything will return to the earth in due time, in order to propagate-nurture-sustain-nourish future generations. that is, unless global warming makes earth uninhabitable in 50 years, or nuclear war breaks out, or we pollute the earth into complete shambles, or—

it doesn't matter. you won't be alive for it.

you'll be dust in the wind, worm food, before any of those things come to pass. according to your doctors, at least. you have, at the outer limits, maybe a month or two. if you're lucky.

your body will fail you

your condition will continue to deteriorate until you are put into hospice at the tender age of ██, and then, shortly after, you will die. they'll take good care of you, there, of course. they'll prescribe your morphine for your pain, ativan for your anxiety and your restlessness. you will lose yourself, or maybe have moments of clarity, of lucidity, of who you used to be. but those will be gone soon, and then there will be nothing.

you're vaguely pagan, but not enough to think it'll save you.

don't believe in any afterlife, so it follows that that's what you're expecting, even hoping for. and in regard to your paganism, believe you, you tried. once they took you off the cancer treatments to begin palliative care, you (being a rational human being, letting science try first) did cleanse yourself with smoke, anoint yourself with oils, surround yourself with crystals. none of it did anything, probably. but it made you feel a little bit better, to practice your craft one last time before...

well... you know what's coming.

maybe you won't end up in hospice. wouldn't that be nice. one night, you close your eyes, and the tumor lurking in your body passes go, collects the rest of your life force in exchange for the $200 you do not have, and you just don't wake up again. you know that you are going to die, and soon, it's just the 'when' of the matter that remains a surprise.

your funeral is already planned.

you did it while you were still coherent and cognizant of things. you want to be buried in a pod, and next to that pod will be planted a tree: slowly, over time, both your body and the pod decompose, providing the tree with nutrients and sustenance to grow. the people you leave behind will get something to visit, something to remember you by, and you get to return to the earth in a way you wouldn't be able to in a traditional casket or burial. no embalming, just your corpse in the fetal position, in a pod, until both are no more.

the thought of it makes you want to die; well, good news!

just some terminal illness humor. it's what's kept you sane during your last few months. but even still, you feel your heart begin to race, and you close your eyes and repeat the mantra that's gotten you through this whole mess:

all things return to the earth.
all things return to the earth.
all things return to the earth.

you open your eyes. memento mori and all that. the reminders of your impending death have been constant and unceasing, from the condolences of friends, family, and coworkers to the never ending visits to the doctor. some days, it's still hard to reconcile. one day soon, you'll close your eyes, and you won't be here anymore. life will move on without you. that's scary to think about, putting it mildly! but you don't exactly have a choice. it's been a constant every since that traitorous lump of cells in your body was found and determined to be malignant.

all things return to the earth.
all things return to the earth.

you are mostly at peace with it now. but god, you're so tired all the time. you are more or less constantly in pain. right now it feels like you've been hit by a mack truck or something. it's hard to stand, let alone walk. brain gets fuzzier by the day. the one thing you always can think of, without pause or hesitation, is that mantra.

all things return to the earth.

... you are really, really tired. you think... you are going to take a nap. just an hour or so.

the sapling they plant as your grave is a weeping willow. and one day, it will be beautiful.

Pet Treasure


Dead Person

Autumn Bone Beast Antler

Fungus Fruit

Shiitake Mushroom

Overgrown Mammal Bones

Fungus-Infested Skull

Amanitas

Romero Badlands Shed Antler

Amanita Mushroom Spores

Galerina

Skull

Fly Clinging Mushrooms

Overgrown Stump

Matsutake Mushroom

Macroscopic Spore

Preserved Terrornia Wing Bones

Broad Toadstool

Oyster Mushrooms

Beloved Cracked Vase

Bones

Decay Poison Shroomy

Oyster Mushroom Spores

Rotten Torra Fruit

Bolete Mushroom

Dusty Carcass

Large Fungal Plates

Chanterelle Mushroom

Morel Mushroom

Fungus Perfume

Heap of Bones Beanbag

Broad Sickener

Rotten Stepped-In Pumpkin

Tall Bleeding Tooth Fungus

Tiger Bones

Engorged Spore Pod

Sprouting Mushrooms

Common Fungus Cluster

Overgrown Avian Bones

Red Mushroom Playing Cards

Mushroom Portrait Sticker

Peka Glade Willow Figurine

Dead Person

Pet Friends