If I May Also Give A Recommendation For Sources; The SCP Foundation, And A Bunch Of Its Canons, Have

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 

. . . 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..

Tumblr Is Once Again Trying To Warn Me I'm Becoming A Miserable Bastard

Thank you so much for sharing. In truth I was a little worried my post would not be well received, but I just wanted to let you know that even with the difficulties that you experienced, you still came out on top and became a remarkable person, not because of the pain but in spite of it. 

You are a wonderful person, and I am so glad to have known you.

Do Memories of Your Religious Upbringing Leave You Feeling Afraid?

Do you know the story of the city of sodom in the bible? You know, in Genesis 19? You know how angels warned Lot and his family to flee the city and not look back? How in the end they were riding out of the city as it was being destroyed, but the wife could not help but look back, and was turned into a pillar of salt as punishment? That story upset me terribly as a kid. It seemed so cruel, and just for what? That sick feeling in your gut that makes you watch on even though you know you shouldn't?

I mean, I know now why it upset me so much. I would've looked too. It's absurd--

Not the other wild claims that were preached to us, interpretations rather than written word, while we all sat there drinking in the words like they were absolute. It was the damn pillar of salt that got me, that just ate me up inside. I can't help myself, I have to look. Every time. It's a real damned if I do, damned if I don't situation and all my life I've been told this ache to reach into the unknown horrors is wrong.. at least until I moved, anyways.

How could a deity punish something as wonderful as free thinking? Or curiosity? These stories make me wonder where the real harm was, or was it just simply another story to inspire fear in the hearts of men from as long back as fear possibly existed.

I want to be divorced from the inner child in me that still deep down believes it, and is half is expecting to be  struck dead for breathing life to such thoughts

And then there's the thought that's just outside of my periphery of "Oh, well what would you do of you had that level of power, Jules? Hmm?" And that just makes my brain buzz with anxiety because I know I'd doom us all.

I Feel I Should Address The Elephant In The Room

As someone named Julius, I'm looking forward to my first ‘Ides of March’ on Tumblr with you all.

This Is The End Of The World

Can you feel the earth turning slower than it ever had before? So much has happened over the last couple of years, and the weight is almost too much. We’ve seen war, and illness. We’ve watched a fool become king to this country, and the changing of the seasons that is no doubt melting down the icecaps- hell, we even gained a second moon in September. It’s enough to make anyone begin to worry if this is downright biblical.

I remember during my childhood, the idea of an apocalypse being just on the horizon of our lives was something so often talked about. It was spoken about as if it were a concrete fact, and that one day everything we hold near and dear was going to burn in hellfire. What stuck with me most though,was how they would talk to us children, about how we had to be strong, and how we were so special. About how we wouldn't let our minds be poisoned by those outside of the community. Now I’m 24 years old, and I’m living far away from my hometown… and still, the earth continues to turn, my heart is still beating. 

I try to remind myself that I’m different now, and that I can look at things from a less coerced mindset. The fear is always there though, burning white hot in my lungs. I think about my poor grandmother, on her deathbed, how she looked me in the eyes and said, “You aren’t Jules...who are you?” Her last moments, I think about often whenever I think about the end of the world. 

Maybe the earth ended long ago, in another timeline far from this one. Maybe everyone we’ve ever loved, every fear we ever hated- maybe it all went up in smoke and we can’t remember it because remembering would mean enduring the fear all over again. Sometimes times I think I can feel a tension thick in the air, like I’m running out of time, and a million breaths gasp in fear all at once, all over the globe- and that feeling terrifies me because I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I may have played a hand in it.

 Can you feel that tension? Can you feel the earth’s blood and hunger? Well, maybe we can use this chance to turn things around. Let’s save the planet from itself, we have to be brave because we live in a world of constantly being frightened. They say it on our televisions, in articles and books that we should be afraid of our future and that things look grim, but I think there’s still hope for us yet. We just have to take matters into our own hands, and make this world worth living in, a little at a time. We can fix this. It’s our last chance to forgive ourselves.

Do You Dream of the Stars? Or Better Yet, Is It What Makes You Wake Up Screaming?

Have you ever thought about the vastness of everything in the macrocosm? About looking out a spaceship window and seeing nothing but an endless sea of darkness? Ask yourself, can space really be endless? I mean, we all know the universe isn't… but what happens at the end of the universe? Like if I was to get in a spaceship could I just keep on going and going forever without ever revisiting the same places? This is terrifying to me, that there are places out there that will never be seen by human eyes. Then there's that pesky phrase, “Space is expanding”. Well how can that be true? How am I supposed to conceptualize cosmic inflation theory, if there isn't the dark matter of space in the spots it's expanded to before, then just what was there before? What do we call that? This doesn't freak anyone else out?

 I want to visualize and understand all of it. The below, the above, what surrounds our being.  If. I could just map it out and understand fully, then it wouldn't make my head spin as much. It feels like unfinished work that will never be completed... Which I guess in a way, it sort of is

(x)

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.