So I've Been Seeing Some Fake Claiming Videos Pop Up On YouTube Dash Lately And I Can't Understand Why..

The Questionnaire

I've had some time to reflect upon this path I've been set on to find myself - and I realize I have been running aimlessly without a game plan, and that's all due to laziness. 

 I thought I didn't have any control in these dreams/memories I've been experiencing, but in this recent one I shared with you all I was able to yell, if only for a moment. That's gotten me thinking about the nature of these dreams, and the potential they have to uncover the parts of my life that have always felt like a mystery. Clearly there is something my subconscious has clinged onto. I can no longer sit idle and expect the answers to come to me. So, what exactly is it that I am after?

I want to get to the point where I can consciously ask questions in my dreams, and to better understand the entities that have shown up in said dreams- I think it's the only way to help me better find my identity. I however have to compile a questionnaire in order to set a baseline in my questioning, and I need to train my brain through repetition in order to ensure some consistency. I think if I ask enough fictionkin and fictives about their experiences using the same questionnaire, the likelihood of me being able to force lucid dreaming through questions will increase. 

Through these questions, I will be sorting my findings into four categories;

 Familiarity in topics- I will be looking for specific topics and themes that speak to my memories, especially any recurring symbolism that appears in the source material. I will also be looking for familiarity in those who reach out to me, through their memories and their overall fictionkin/fictive experiences. 

Emotional Response- I cannot deny that there is an emotional aspect to this whole kinsidering journey, to completely divorce my emotional reactions from my findings would be silly, so I will be taking it into account- especially my own dread and guilt since that was a large factor of what started me on this journey in the first place. 

Attraction or “Draw”- Sometimes there are aspects within a source or within the topics we discuss that draw me in. I feel a natural pull to it- be it craving or a gut feeling- it may possibly be even adjacent to kin shifts, but I’m hoping to further explore these feelings by documenting them. Sometimes intuition is your best guidance. 

Roles- I have been taking into account what you have all said to me so far, and I have noticed a large majority of you have reached out to me with an identity in mind of who I may be. I will be examining these suggestions at a closer level and seeing how I fit into their roles. Could I see myself taking the actions they had in their source material- and better yet, do I show a pattern of echoing their behaviors in this present life? 

That being said, I have noticed a disturbing trend in my dreams that involves people who feel preyed upon by a malevolent force, so when I am considering what questions I want to practice on you, I will also have to hold the double intention of  what I may want to extract from said dream apparitions, and for this I have a completely different set of criteria;

Defense/Offense- Do those that make an appearance in my dream seek out targets to attack, or are they rather trying to protect something that they fear is vulnerable, and if so what is it? Why do they exhibit the behaviors that they have in previous dreams, and how can that be traced back to any source material that I have been kinsidering?

Craving- It's colored a large part of my experiences. It's a core theme that I've been meaning to focus on, so I want to know if those that feature in my dreams seek out their victims for fuel and survival, or if they are simply craving the entertainment of watching someone’s hope die in their eyes. This may help me better research new possible sources.

Method- Just as there are themes that I am looking for that feel familiar to me in source material, I am also looking to draw comparisons on what I see in these dreams. I've noticed the entities all have specific themes for how they appear in my dreams; An eye deep in the ocean’s floor, a deadly conglomeration predator and prey animals that stalks the woods in hunt for those who dare disrespect the fragile balance of nature, the haunting pull of an eternity in silence, with only your fears to keep you warm- these are all very distinguishable visuals, so if I can just categorize them, maybe then I can look up sources through these recurring themes.

There's only one noteworthy conclusion that I can say with certainty about these memories. The thing about these anomalies is that they pick their victims, and they seldom choose someone who has the tools to fight back. It is an exposed vulnerability that they needle, and once they realize that you aren't able to defend yourself against it? It's open season.  I need to learn how to make myself dangerous to the things that have been haunting me, and remove the danger from interacting with whoever is caught in the crossfire- namely you, the reader. What better of a way to do that, than to talk my fears to death? A surefire way to defang any horror is to remove the mystery, and make it known.

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 A Cabin

They're standing around a table when I materialize in the corner. Pressed tightly together in their circle, shadows stretching over the walls, they whisper about the horrors of man and as they hit that crescendo of hysteria, their voices hiss into hushed silence. They know I’m with them now, bodies growing still. This is where I’m really taken aback- the majority of the figures at that table bleed into nothingness- as if they were never there to begin with, save for one man who turns slowly, the satisfaction is just dripping from his eyes when he faces me in full. 

“How nice of you to visit while I wait on my crime, were you hoping to find answers here?” He asks. It’s almost friendly and teasing but make no mistake, the mask that he wears has not put me at ease, I can tell that there’s something not fully human about him. He picks up on my glare that’s pinning him down for answers, and he doesn’t delay because he knows the sharp twist of hunger and the paranoia in our gut is the only thing that drives us. “You know- the life sentence you’ve subjected me to? Don’t you hear it underneath every dream, that hissing noise? Tell me, do you know who you are yet?” And he’s right, there is something just undercurrent. It’s whirring and clogged with dust. I begin to wonder if he really can’t leave this place… or if much like me, he’s been broken down into tiny, tiny pieces. “You don’t know, I can tell by that constipated look on your face. You don’t know, and it distresses you more than anything.” Sure, his smile is tight with mirthless cheer. This fear he sees in me is his own though, and that’s how he’s able to tap into it. “In the end it hardly matters, what’s in a name anyways? You and I still play our role of a voyeur all the same,”

What’s in a name indeed.

“I can show you things.” Suddenly his voice is right next to my ear as he looms from behind me. “Things that will leave you awake for hours, things that will make you think twice about wandering dark hallways alone at night.”  I crane my neck, trying to get a look at his face while he says this. For some reason, having him out of my line of sight makes me terribly uneasy. “Would you like that? You don’t have to answer, I already know.” And I would like that. I really, really would. All it takes is one second to get caught up in his purple prose, and suddenly I feel the urge pulling me under again. All it takes is for him to give me that final push, and the next thing I know-

I’m right back where I started. In a bedroom, standing over another victim. This one gazes at me through hollowed sockets, healed over through the ever merciful passage of time. I know he can see me though. He can sense me standing over him and he can imagine what I must look like, the unspeakable form I’ve taken, he fears it just as any other man that I’ve held in this very spot before him. He fears me, and I am a glutton by nature, so I press my fingers down into the mottled flesh, and let myself get pulled away by the currents of his memories. 

There was a cabin, long forgotten by those who came before. Built upon hallowed grounds from merging timelines, out far in the woods of Scotland, Isobel has gone missing.. And I have to bring her home. All through our lives, she had been the braver, more outgoing twin. In grade school she had been the one to hang upside-down from the monkey bars, the one to brave the dark and assure me that it would be alright- because she'd be there to protect me.

 She had always been interested in exploring new uncharted lands, and that interest of hers never seemed to be fully quenched. That wild side of her’s became more refined the older we got, her taking wildlife survival courses while I focused on our university's acting programs. 

The rock filled dirt road came to an abrupt stop, but I knew where I was heading, based on the letters that she had sent during the very beginning of her expedition- a little cabin, modest and in need of repair. When Izzy had said that she wanted to take a gap year to find herself, we had been supportive. Even more so when she said she wanted to use the time to pursue her passion of solo camping. It had seemed like the perfect vacation to her restless legs and wandering spirit. No one could have expected Isobel to have gone radio silent only a month into her trip, not returning home from even 2 weeks later. Had she simply lost track of time? I didn't want to think of an alternative answer. 

So here I was-  walking up to this haunted abode, ready to knock.. When I got the feeling of being watched. It prickled along the hairs of my arms and down my neck in icy fingers, dancing lines down my back. “Izzy!” I call out, but she does not answer to my knocking, the door remains shut. There's a scent to the air, sickly and metallic. It's the smell of death, I know it. Isobel is likely gone, but in a moment of nervous energy- I'm not sure what took over me, I began making my way around the back of the cabin in long leaping strides. I needed to find a way into that cabin. If Isobel was in there.. I needed to be there for her, like she's always been there for me. 

Eyes frantically searching for a way in, I decide that I'll grab a rock and smash the first story window. A window that looks to have already taken a beating, by some unknown sources. The rocks are small. These would hardly do the damage I was hoping for. I wander farther to the treeline, where a ditch of disturbed and peeled back earth is alive with flies. I fear the worst as I inch closer to the shallow burial, only to find.. Eyes. 

Eyes, plucked from a variety of animals, bloodied with the nerves still attached like outstretched appendages, eaten by the black flies that cluster around. I feel faint, and I once again feel the feeling of eyes upon me. She's standing there, hands bloody, eyes ravenous and frenzied. She's scared, and she wants to go home. She wants to go back to how it was before all of this. “Over here! Over here with me, where it’s safe!” She makes a frantic gesture for me, she wants me to walk over to her. Something is terribly off though. I take in the disheveled appearance of my sister-

“You haven’t bathed,” It seems silly that of all the things that stood out to me, that’s what I chose to point out. Her hair was matted and sallow in tangled clumps down her back. Grime and blood caked under her fingernails. She smelled of death. “Something awful happened in the bathtub of this house. Something terrible lives here.” I take a step back from her, glancing back at the shallow grave of eyes. Taking all this in, I remember what I wanted so desperately from these dreams. I am not Kieran O’Connor, I am Jules, and I need to ask a question right now.. But I’m terrified. I don’t understand how this could’ve happened to the O’Connor twins, they were such a happy family.

“Why?!”  It’s all I could think to ask. My voice is strained in my throat, but it’s my question, and that is all that matters at this moment. “Don’t you feel it? The eyes that are on us? Kieran, look into the woods!” She’s already looking past me, and so I did, and I saw everything. 

The woods had gone still, quiet. Birds perched on branches as stock still as could be, staring deep into us, emotionlessly. Squirrels halted in posture, facing their judging gazes with the lone pine marten, but there was more. A darkness in those woods, so terribly familiar gazed into me as well with its many, many eyes. I felt it look through the vessel of Kieran O’Connor and into my soul, just as I knew- something I’m unsure of how I became so certain of, that Isobel was doing to me, right now. I spun around on my heels to look back, and Isobel’s expression has changed. 

Isobel wore such a hateful expression. Have you ever had someone look at you with such a true level of hate that it left you frightened? That it warped their face and made them an uncanny looking stranger? I’m not talking about the usual mocking and disgust that people often exhibit towards those they take a disliking to. Isobel became something other when she recognized me. “It’s staring through you, too. I should have known better… than to have expected you to let me leave this place so easily.” 

“Put down the knife, Isobel.” But it was too late, she was rapidly advancing on me, mouth slightly agape and that hateful expression twisting once loving features. She was his sister. My head smack hard against the ground as she pushes me..Kieran, over. He trusted her. The knife angles down to his eye. How could this have happened? How could I let it happen? And I felt it as well as I had heard it, when the first eye was plucked free with a sickening pop. 

I don’t need to tell you, that this was when I woke up. You already know.

I'm taking this. It's mine now.

some horrorkin and monsterkin blinkies :] pssst... i'm taking requests for this template if anyone wants it in a different color/different words! (free to use, no credit or permission required, no dni)

Stained glass lamps

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.

hi jules :3 it is I once more, the very cool & awesome eden ™ /silly

don't have any suggestions for you this time! I just wanted to pop in to say hello! I hope you're doing as well as can be :)

we all wonder what is jules, but no one asks *how* is jules.... [/lh]

Hello Eden, it's been a while since we've spoken given I've been in the throes of vivid night terrors but as always I'm pleased to hear from you.

If you don't mind me asking, what is your favorite genre of horror? I'm always speaking about horror on this blog but I've never thought to ask my mutuals about their preferences within the genre. Anyone else who reads this, feel free to reply with your own answers as well.

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 

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.