What Is A Tumblr Post Or Blog U Recently Enjoyed

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

An illustration of the eye that I saw in my dream, created by these two images;

I drew over the top of the first image, but I hope this will help better explain to those reading just what I saw.

The Eye At The Bottom of Emerald Coast

This post is an update to where I have been for the last 2 weeks. I plan to write everything that I experienced, everything I heard, everything I saw– in excruciating detail for me. For my own peace of mind, so if you are perturbed by talk related to medical emergencies or long winded explanations about things as trivial as my feelings, then feel free to turn away. I won’t fault you for it, but this post is going up all the same, because I feel like this moment in my life meant something. It had to.

So, what happened? I'm just going to rip the bandage off and say, I had a cardiac event at work, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. I don't like having to share this because I feel like I always have something dramatic happening in this disaster of a life I've built for myself. I thought moving from my hometown and getting a medical degree was supposed to make my life more stable, but the groundwork I've created is crumbling around me, and the fall from grace started with a workplace argument. “I don't get why you don't trust us, we have been so nice to you, and yet you keep pulling this shit-”

“Look, I can't just turn trust on like a switch, Larry. If I could, I would just to get you off my back but don't sit there and lie to me. I know you all have been talking about me in secret. What was it about? Is it because of what I said about the freezer room? Is it- oh my god, did you find out why I left my last job?” I panicked, but the look on Larry's face told me that it was not information he was privy to… yet. “I do not think it's a coincidence that you all suddenly fall silent the second I enter the room. So am I just being paranoid or do you have something you want to tell me?”

“You're just being paranoid!!” He throws his hands up with his shouted exclamation, several people glance over at us. “Look, dude… Okay, we have talked a little bit but only because we're worried about you!” I raised an eyebrow of disbelief. “Seriously? After we invited you out to grab drinks with us, you still don't think we're friends?”

“I…don't  know what I think.”

I could feel the tension rising up in the back of my throat, like bile. Everything in the room pulsed as I took in a shaking breath, but Larry just pushed on. “Why are you so damn negative? I just don't get it, man. You know when you aren't going on about how the world is awful, you're actually fun to talk to-”

“Listen, bad always happen to me- I'm just reporting the facts,”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about-! Nobody is out to get you! I like you, Julius! I like you!” and I tried to say something in rebuttal but… I threw up right there at the table with no warning…and it was pure black, the texture gelatinous and bitter. I thought about how someone had told me once that black vomit is a tell towards a serious health issue and that you are close to death- and I know that's because of the coffee ground appearance of vomit during a gastrointestinal bleed, I know that, okay?  I could tell that wasn't what this was because it was downright acrylic looking in consistency,  but it was too late, the fear that I was dying was already firmly planted in my head. I could feel the prickle of eyes on me, making me feel even more panicked. “Oh shoot, let me go get some paper towels,” Larry said, but Gilbert was already making strides over to the paper towel roll on the counter in the breakroom. My head was swimming, and my shoulder began to throb so hard that it trailed up the side of my neck and that just freaked me out even more.That must've been when I lost consciousness, because I don't really recall much afterwards. I think Larry might've tried to coax me out of my seat, saying; “Okay, let's get you sitting on the ground before you pass out.”but besides that, it's a blur. All I wanted was to stand up and shake it off, and show them that everything was alright– but it was like I was trying to keep my head above water when the waves were crashing all the same, silencing my cries for help and pulling me under. I fought it the whole way down.

For a painful moment, it was just dark, and the only thing I was conscious of was that feeling where you've been dropped from a great height, that rush of adrenaline in a quick pulsing ’thump!’ and then I was far under the currents of emerald bay. The water was dark and rich, and it overwhelmed all my senses. It was all encompassing, in a terrifying way that made it impossible to tell which direction the surface was. For a second there it was nice because at least this felt constant, you know? It almost felt safe, in a way that was terribly deceptive. 'Thump!' There was something there, under the ocean floor. I couldn't see it, but it was there, its heartbeat shaking the tranquility of death.  I could feel it with absolute certainty. It made the sea pulse like a womb, and so I swam down towards the heartbeat that was drumming on, shaking the walls of my soul.

Because it's not fair. I played my whole life by the books. I kept my head down, I worked myself to the bone, and I always followed what was expected of me. I never put myself out there. As I kept kicking my feet, all I could think about was all the hobbies I repressed, all the people I could've kissed, all the things I could've brought into question- it wasn't fair. I wasn't supposed to die like this, never finding the closure I was searching for. I just wanted to understand who I am, I just wanted to know- was that really so awful? 

’Thump!’

And there it was, at the bottom of emerald bay, the thing that's haunted me, the explanation of my entire life looking right through me as if I wasn't merely my flesh. One, pulsing eye, flecked with the dark stars of infinite timelines and realities. I spent my whole life feeling lost, like I didn't know who I was, and now it was looking me right in the face like a macabre joke. I thought back to all that time I spent asking people about their experiences, and trying to selfishly fit myself into some space I could belong- the Supernatural kin community, the Madoka Magica kin community, the Mouth Washing kin community especially and it was all because of this thing. This thing I don't even understand. I wanted to, in spite of everything. I almost wanted to laugh at how bad it hurt…and because I have a sense of humor, as I reached out to stab into the pupil with my sharpened fingers, I thought to myself,

“I hope this hurts”

Some things about going into cardiac arrest at 24 years old; I recovered faster than expected. I could've been there for 16, 18 days… but I was only there for 11. Having all that stuff hooked up on me, especially the catheter, was sensory hell and so I made it everyone else's problem that I was feeling so rotten. That being said, I found myself not nearly as emotional about this experience. Surprising as that may be, it all felt sort of surreal. Like it wasn't me laying in that hospital bed but someone completely different. Oh, I hated that more than anything. You know what the real kicker was? They said it was triggered by stress. That I should be more careful when viewing horror content, among other things. Imagine the one thing that brings you joy. Imagine the climax of your absolute euphoria, a high that knocks you away from the woes of reality, your favorite food, your favorite song. Imagine asking a question, and never getting to live to hear the answer, no you've been condemned to ignorance. It was as if they just told me I was going to be living off saltines for the rest of my life. It was like they defanged me. Naturally I dealt with it in my usual healthy coping mechanisms- being an insufferable prick. 

Consider this a footnote, but-

The thing that pushed me over the edge in the end is confusing and because I don't understand it, I feel almost embarrassed to admit the amount of pain it doled upon all my senses. It was one of the nurses, the way she smelled. Over all that sterile cleaner and sour dread from the hospital, somehow I could make out notes of chamomile and bergamot as she whisked away with a clipboard in hand, and suddenly I was struggling to keep my composure, because I

Why? Why was this happening? Why was I doing this here, where someone could see me? Sure, no one was in the room but I could feel the prickle of eyes at the back of my neck. I was already in the throes of a nervous breakdown though, I could feel the lump in my throat forming and suddenly I wished I hadn't gone and pushed away anyone who even looked at me kindly. 

If I kept going down that train of thought, I'd surely embarrass myself. I mean– it's  not as if I've never had a cup of tea before, or had the pleasure of smelling a lit bergamot candle. For some reason, the warmth in it together just knocked the wind out of me. How do you process grief if you don't even know why you're grieving? So I just sat there, swallowing convulsively and thinking about the fact that I built my walls so high, that nobody visited me in this god forsaken hospital over the holidays. ’Well, that's not fair, maybe they visited early when I wasn't conscious and they just got turned away because they weren't family’ I try to tell myself, but deep down I know nobody tried because I really am that unlikable of a person. It's not even something I've learned, it's been like this ever since I was a child. If I just keep telling myself it's all of this is worth it, then maybe one day it will be. I just have to keep clawing at the walls of this existence until I break through.

Mitochondrial Gene Study on Mice Has Revealed Possible Links to Memory

Researchers used mitochondrial gene editing to model genetic disorders in mice. While previous attempts have been made, in-depth phenotypic changes resulting from mitochondrial gene knockout, for example the alterations in observable characteristics when a specific gene is inactivated, remain largely undocumented. So, researchers used a programmable DNA base editing technology to analyze the genotypic and phenotypic impacts of knocking out the ND5 mitochondrial gene, and they found profound impacts on brain function, metabolism, and thermoregulation. They employed a specialized DNA editing tool to induce mutations in the ND5 mitochondrial gene, disrupting energy production and causing learning deficits, hippocampal atrophy, and obesity. I just found this incredibly fascinating as this is the closest we've gotten to documenting when a gene is inactivated like that.

your blog is so fascinating. i love reading what you have to say.

Thank you, I'm both glad and relieved that my blog has brought some of you enjoyment throughout my time online, and once I find the source I'm looking for, I would like to switch gears and have you all be the focus of my blog- whether that means I become a kincall blog or maybe regularly write questions for others to answer with their experiences? I feel deeply inspired by the memories so many of you have shared and I wish to make this your space as much as it is mine, so if anyone has suggestions of what they would like to see more of on this blog, feel free to let me know

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?

Dear friends,

I am Ahmad, a father struggling to keep my family alive in Gaza under the relentless devastation of war. 💥💔 My children are facing hunger 🍞, thirst 💧, and the bitter cold ❄️ without a safe shelter 🏠. The situation is unbearable, and our lives now depend on your compassionate hearts.

This is not just a message; it’s a plea for survival. 🙏

We are in desperate need of your help to secure the basics: food 🥫, water 💧, and a place to call home 🏠. Your donation, no matter how small, can mean the difference between life and death for my family. ❤️

⏳ Don’t wait. Every second counts. ⏳

Please help us now or share our story with the world 🌍. You might be the reason my children survive this nightmare.

🙏 Don’t let my children face this darkness alone. Be the light 🌟 that brings hope back into our lives.

💖 Donate now and save us from this unimaginable suffering. 💖

Thank you to every kind soul extending a hand of mercy. ❤️‍🩹✨

You can donate to ahmedmoneersblog through their gofundme, linked in their pinned post

🔪🫀🍳🔥🍔🍽️💁🏻‍♀️

(I'm sure you can figure out the story I told you in emoji format.)

Anyway, happy Ides of March, Julius

-Leyley 🩷🖤

As a lover of horror, I understand this was a sacrifice that had to be made

Also, at least throw a side dish in there you monster

I think I understand what you mean, Jay. Or at the very least, the spirit of it. As alterhumans, we have found ourselves in such unlikely circumstances. Experiencing these memories that shake the very core of our realities, and then you’re expected to go on with life like everything is fine- because it is for everyone else around you.

You’re feeling the echoes of something a lifetime ago, and there is all this tension building up in your body, like you’re waiting for a punch that never comes.. And of course, when you try to explain this people will give their unwanted opinions of “seeking help”, or whatever else the anti otherkins say nowadays..

Sometimes when we’re sitting with that feeling of something being so terribly wrong in our heads, it’s only natural to want something to confirm what we’ve been feeling, if only to let go of the breath we’ve been holding for so long. I’m sure there’s something freeing in that, as you’d put it, because once you let go of that breath, it’s like you can finally let your life begin. You can actually experience things properly– presently, and in the moment rather than just feeling like you’re sitting on stand by for a beckon call. Life will come for us though, and it’ll pick us up off our feet. The adrenaline will be so overwhelming that we know for certain that’s why we’re here, and it’s what we’ve been searching for.

 I don’t think that’s unreasonable at all, Jay.

Sometimes, I almost wish I was in danger, if that makes sense. On the run, or being hunted by some entity, shit I wouldn't even mind an end of the world scenario. This boring circle of work, home, work, home with the occasional money spending to waste time can make me feel trapped, desperate for a crumb of adrenaline. Real adrenaline, the kind that sends you racing back out of the woods. I want to fight to protect a tight knit group, all scared but undoubtedly more alive than they've ever been. I want to sleep under the stars, be shocked by how vibrant the night sky is without all those lights. I want true freedom in a time where we're all chained to our desks, fucking explodes myself

PSA

The entire city of Richmond, VA (where I live) and some surrounding areas are currently having a water crisis after the city'ss water treatment plant failed.

~300,000 people are without safe drinking water. About half of that are without water at ALL. People can't shower, wash their hands, or flush the toilet. We have three major hospitals all without running water.

No estimates for when water will be restored exist. The city is not communicating with us at all. The governor, WHO LIVES IN THE CITY, hasn't said a word about it. National Guard, FEMA, nobody has been mobilized to support us. It's not getting any media coverage outside of our local news.

If you can, please share the word so there's more attention to this. There's so many people in danger here, especially those in vulnerable condition like patients or the elderly who are at risk of death, and we need some noise to be made about this.

Please share and thank you if you can <3 Also, if you are around Richmond or know anyone in Richmond, please see what you can do to offer water to those in need in the city, or reach out to your Richmond friends to see if there's anything you can do for them. We're having like three hours long water distribution in two locations every day and it's not enough.

https://www.12onyourside.com

Richmond area’s water crisis continues for a third day

Wednesday is the third day of the city of Richmond and surrounding areas encountering water problems.

EDIT Jan 8, 2025: UPDATE!

The neighboring county (henrico county) had their systems contaminated with our water, so now ~600,000 people are without clean and safe drinking water. Potable water trucks have been deployed to hospitals and water distribution centers have been set up, but everything is still scant.

It has been 3 days. This is still going.

PLEASE KEEP SHARING, MAKING NOISE, CHECKING ON YOUR FRIENDS! AND DONATE TO ANY VALID RELIEF FUNDS YOU SEE!

damn, still no TMA on the kinsidering list? ;P - steph

Ah, you've noticed I don't have it categorized under complete, revised and/or a possible match. I understand why this might come as a surprise given the high number of source suggestions for this particular media, so maybe this might be a good time to break down my method in categorizing and researching different sources.

In order for me to feel comfortable organizing it under any one group, I try to at the very least get through at least one full watch through, read through, et cetera. From there, I will mark the source as completed, and look over the notes I have taken on what felt familiar to me or stood out. 

This is where I revise my notes and go through a second watch through comparing my previous notes with what I have written about my own experiences. Then and only then, will I categorize a source revised, or even possible match. Of course there are outliers to this method. Namely a certain famously long webcomic I had to make a special exemption for this rule. 

That being said, The Magnus Archives is still uncategorized in my source list because while I have gotten to know a couple of wonderful fictionkin/fictives from said source, I regret to say that I have not yet viewed the content. I do plan to remedy this however, in short time.