Hi Jules !!! I Hope Youre Doing Okay

A Dream About A Maze

Tonight’s the night. It has to be–

I’ve been patient, biding my time, ignoring this urge in the name of an experiment but also because some part of me was hoping it’s all a lie I’ve convinced myself of. That I could break away.. I’ve always known what I am. At first it was easy, and I’d gotten hopeful. The dreams dulled to a myriad of eyes, a cacophony of screams. I got dms, offering to share memories and I politely held my resolve but then the ache began to grow steadily like a raw and aching wound in my chest. 

Now that ache has developed into everything I’ve feared the most. This parasocial relationship has become my religion and way of life. So here I am, in another bedroom. In the end it’s no big surprise, I crossed the line a lifetime ago in a reality far from this one. Torturing myself with guilt isn’t enough to hold me back anymore. I want to know the feeling of touching that high again, even if the heart palpitations kill me. I think she understands that when I look at her. 

Megan is watching me back, frightened, but I look through her all the same. Her eyes are dark, frantic and searching mine for any humanity. Yet she found none in any of them. This has become a methodical practice, and I was far too desperate to show any delay. I was beyond reasoning, and nothing more than a caged animal. The eyes are the gateway to her soul, and so my fingers stabbed down into the pupil of her eye, and again we meet in this same place that we always do. 

Megan Awbrey was lost. I could feel that much, the stirring of dread like dead leaves in the wind reverberated through my chest. I had been in the mall with friends, this was just supposed to be a girl’s outing, not only a week away from my birthday. How had I found myself.. Here? It’s a long stretching room, painted a shade that seemed to be red or orange. The loud and bright coloring was miles away from the crisp white of the mini mall that I had been in only moments ago. The only way out was a vivid lilac door. “Erica..? Dana? Where the fuck are you?!” my voice comes out as the sound of an agitated young woman, in her 20s- 22 to be exact, her life had only just begun. I try to shake off the building anxiety and make a move towards the blue door with a huff, only to find the gap between the door and I pull. I was sure I had moved and yet the door remained the same distance away. 

Something is terribly wrong here, I can feel it in the air. Something heavy that sends hot and cold flashes through my body, making my vision dip and swoon, my ears ringing- I am so terribly trapped. I zip open my purse, fishing out an old tube of chapstick. ‘If I really am going nowhere, this chapstick will stay in my line of sight as I’m making a dash for the door,’ I think to myself, dropping it down onto the old, thin carpeted floor and watching it roll slightly into the baseboard of the wall. Megan is congratulating herself for her forward thinking as she takes quick little steps down the ugly ashen hallway, she almost forgets the dire situation she has found herself in, until I look back and see that the chapstick is nowhere to be seen. More direly, I hear footsteps. Fast, quickly closing in footsteps, and so I- Megan, begins to run down the hallway, desperately trying to reach a door she cannot even remember the color of. 

She had not gotten this far through nursing school, to ultimately be backrooms-ed to death. She thinks this under a litany of other frantic and half aborted thoughts- because you barely even have time to think, when you’re running for your life in high heels, mind you-

It was about the time that the hallway went awash in a creamy off putting shade of yellow, that I remembered that I am not Megan Awbrey. This thing I’m running from, at the end of the hallway is just a part of my dreams, and therefore a part of me. I slow to a jog and eventually a halt, refusing to look back at what is probably rapidly advancing. I can hear it’s footsteps on the walls, the ceiling–

“May I ask you a few questions? I feel like you have something to tell me.”  And the voice is so terribly mine, that it catches me off guard. It is me, so suddenly that I feel off kilter, ripped from a dream. It’s quiet for a minute and then, “You can ask, but you’ll never find answers.”

..

What do you do, when you find yourself interrogating your own memories? Are you truly getting the answers you so desperately crave, or is my own subconscious feeding me my worst fears? Is it all an exercise in vanity? 

“I need to know what you are. Please, what is your nature?” I sound frantic to my own ears, and I realize I have disregarded the questionnaire in feverish hope of something making sense. I have no script to rely on now. “I am the gaps in your mind, the fear of chaos. You are living on something concrete, but I am the in between,” The anomaly before me grins wide, drinking in my reaction. I shudder; suddenly this hallway seems so far from the warmth of the sun. Chaos incarnate is one way to look at them, and yet somehow I felt as though they were playing with their answer. “Have you always been force of the impossible coming into reality?” My fingers twitch, the nails clicking against each other in anticipation. At this vague and cryptic question, they cock their head in curiosity. 

The question is at the tip of my tongue, ‘Were you always this, or was it something that was inflicted upon you?’ but I think better of it, instead choosing to ask, “Are there others like you?” 

“Many! More than you could hope to find in your dreams. So many of them were hapless victims that found themselves taken over by an entity outside of human comprehension. Have you ever watched someone get chewed up in the mouth of fear and swallowed down until there was nothing left of the person you knew before? That is what they are! Victims have been fed to the fears countless times, and it will happen again.”

“Why do they do it though? What do they want?” 

“Well, if you were a being that defined yourself off the fear of others for allll of your existence…what would you want, more than anything after being left in silence for as long as we have?”

“They want to be known.” I decided, because that had to be it, right? They wanted to be recognized and seen for the fearful creatures they once were- at least to inspire new fear just as they once had. Could it even be as simple as that? “Is that what you want? To be known?”

“Do I look like I do?” 

I suppose not in the traditional sense. This was a being of complete chaos and contradiction, that much was readily apparent to me, and yet I think this entity would not be entertaining my inquiries if they didn't want to at least be recognized for the disorder and breaking of boundaries that they represent. They are a creature of many branching facets that wishes to be studied by inquisitive eyes- maybe I was just the man to bring them that. 

“I think you have been left craving for a long time.” I finally settled on. “You would know about cravings, wouldn't you? How many memories have you strangled from people's subconscious?” There's a tone of teasing, light and airy and yet the bitter accusation underneath is digging into me deep. “This is my dream and you don't have power here,” I mutter, trying to focus on something so I could force myself awake. I desperately needed to ground myself.

“Oh don't be so coy, dear Jules. You haven't been perfecting your dream hunting because you want to help others.” 

“I'm going to count backwards from 3, and then I'll wake up. Three,”

“All this pride, all this fight… oh,  be honest with yourself. Yoouuu liked it~” 

When the impossibly long, slender fingers of the entity ran along my chest, I couldn't help but let out a breathless gasp, a tremor running up my spine. It then became apparent to me that no matter how otherworldly I felt and looked in these dreams, there was still a part of me that felt vulnerable and human… and most of all, afraid. They could smell it on me, and I was mad at myself for giving in so easily. 

“I'm nothing like you,”

“Oh no? You're not drinking in the fear? My, maybe he was wrong about you after all.” 

And suddenly, the fingers stabbed deep into my chest, causing me to leap awake, grabbing at myself. As I work on catching my breath, I know when Megan finally found herself free from that monster, she never found her friends again. A sickening part of me is more focused on the possibilities our conversation has presented, rather than the guilt I should be feeling though.

.. And isn’t that just terrifying?

A List Of Fictional Crushes I've Had Since The Age Of 9

It’s actually rather funny

My love life is near nonexistent, and it’s understandable why; I’ve never exactly been a looker, the idea of intimacy sets me on edge because how can you trust someone enough to hold that level of companionship with them? That being saaiiiid..

The nice thing about fictional crushes is that they can never leave you, or disappoint you (or even worse, you disappoint them!) Yes, I held the characters I read about all near and dear to my heart. So, here’s a comprehensive list of all the fictional crushes I’ve had since the age of 9, all in chronological order for your convenience:

Morticia Adams (The Addams Family 1991)

Frank Zhang (Heroes of Olympus Percy Jackson series)

Delores Claiborne (Title Name, Self Explanatory)

Monica Geller (Friends)

The Reporter Courtney Cox Played (Scream. This Crush Probably Wouldn't Have Happened if I Hadn't Watched Friends)

Peeta Melmark (The Hunger Games Series, Book Version Only)

Olivia Benson (Law and Order SVU)

Griffin (The Invisible Man 1933, Movie Version Only) ((I also need to clarify that a lot of my thoughts about Griffin are admittedly out of character))

Sam Tully (ASoIaF AND Game of Thrones)

Whoever It Was Rosario Dawson Played in (Death Proof)((It was the damn kick at the end)))*

Samwise Gamgee (Mostly the Movie Adaptations of Lord of the Rings)

If there's anything writing this down has taught me, it's that I have a clear type in both genders, and I'm of the opinion that the two of them would make the perfect couple, somewhere far *far* away from me 

(Feel Free To Reblog With Your Own Fictional Pinings)

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.

yo do u have a kin list anywhere 👀

That's a good question--

As of right now, I do not have a kin list. This is due to the fact I still have not been able to find a source that completely matches my kin memories. That being said, I do have a list of sources I have been looking into in hopes of finding a connection which I will list here though if anyone finds any familiarity in me or the memories I depict in my posts, I urge you to reach out to me with any insight you can offer;

https://www.tumblr.com/imitative-magpie/777294067956580352/while-i-have-the-time-to-keep-up-on-my-blog?source=share 

The Complete List Of Kinsidering Sources

Thanks to the help of so many of you both here on Tumblr, and on various discord servers, I was able to lay a lot of groundwork into discovering my identity. I would like to share a list of sources I have been given and am currently looking into in order to widen my sample size regarding memories as a whole. Here is where I currently am in this process;

*The Dream SMP (Completed)

*Mouth Washing (Even Though I Have Mostly Ruled That Out) ((Completed.. obviously))

*Homestuck (Not Really Completed But I Feel I've Seen Enough)

*A Song of Ice and Fire (Completed and Revised)

*Maximum Ride Series (Completed and Revised)

*Final Destination (Completed and Revised)

*Madoka Magica (Completed)

*Supernatural (Completed and Revised, Possible Match)

*Zero Escape Series (Completed)

*The Magnus Archives 

*SCP and Related Works (Completed and Revised, Possible Match)

*Death Note (Completed and Revised, Possible Match)

*Arcane (Completed and Revised)

*The Magicians 

*Ave Mujica

*The Mandela Catalogue (Completed, Possible Match)

*Devilman Crybaby 

*American Horror Story (Completed and Revised)

*The Omen (Completed and Revised, Possible Match)

If anyone from these sources would like to impart any insight or simply share any memories that have been weighing on them..

Well, you know I'll always be listening.

Yeah I have a suggestion for you

Are you a paranoid schitsophrenic?

Here's a word of advice, Anon. At least learn how to spell 'Schizophrenic' before you send a hate post. My schedule is very busy so I hardly have the time to respond to mindless ramblings of the illiterate.

A Dream About An Archeologist

“I had a nightmare about being an archeologist a few nights ago.” The world falls dead silent as I wait for a reply. They’re typing back, I can see those three little dots dancing at the bottom of the screen. “An archeologist? That’s an interesting career for sure. How’d the nightmare go?”

“The beginnings of the dream were inconsequential, mostly going about my job at the digging site. It was actually a calm sort of pleasant in that part of the dream. The tools seemed a bit dated.. But it was when the team uncovered, in their excavation, two bodies that things took a horrific turn into nightmare territory.” I paused for a moment, thinking over how to continue with just what I saw.

“.. I’m not sure what you’re comfortable with, so I’ll just leave this part censored. From how deep down in the earth they were, it was impossible someone had buried them there, and the earth we had dug up was unturned when we started this project. People were panicking, calling for 999, and here’s something more horrific,

“The reason I bring up them being too far down, and the earth being unturned is how fresh the bodies were. Under all that dirt, their skin was soft and blueish. Bloated from the very beginnings of decomposition. Her hands were gripped into his arms so hard they broke flesh, and the most terrifying part for me was their eyes. They were wide open, allowing the dirt in.

“Their mouths, their faces still twisted by fright in death, they were alive when they somehow found themselves under all that earth, and that terrified me because by all means, I have no idea how they had gotten there.”

 I lean back, looking at what I copied and pasted. There’s guilt here. It's an unusual thing, the need to tell people about what I’ve seen in the dreams– a new development that makes my stomach roll. I don’t like having to spread this feeling, that’s not me.. But fear can really turn me into a monster when it’s left unattended. After a moment of waiting, the weight of what I wrote suddenly hits me somewhere deep beneath my ribs, and I feel anxious. 

“Julius, we think you really oughta take a look into The Magnus Archives; https://the-magnus-archives.fandom.com/wiki/The_Buried.” I’m sulking. I’m a grown man, and I’m sulking over this reply. Something about that source recommendation makes me uneasy and I don’t know why. Shouldn’t I want an answer? Don’t I want to understand? Before I can dwell on this factor any longer, I realize that they are still typing.. And what they write sends a chill down my spine all at once. 

“We’ve seen this,

These people buried deep beyond the limits. 

They were in space, and they met with a fate worse than death… and then they weren't in space anymore.

They were sent home.”

Remember how I said the copypasta was stupid.? I spoke too soon I think, I feel a tad off in headspace

yeah sorry if it's out of your style

Huh.

hey hey, could i suggest looking into fear and hunger: termina, specifically? you remind me quite a bit of the character daan from it

Oh, you know I haven't fully looked into Fear and Hunger! You think I would given I would, given-- it's the two main topics I bring up all the time, on this blog. I gave the source material a glance over and I see that Daan is a doctor, which may very well explain my mild fixation with neuroscience.. Thank you for this recommendation, I'll be sure to add it to my list