Jules, I Just Gotta Let You Know That Its Always A Delight Reading What You Have To Say. The Way You

URGENT HELP🚨🚨🚨🍉🇵🇸

Hello,

How do you do ? I hop to be in a good condition.

This is my special campaign

We hope to help us by donating or sharing to others.

Every donation makes a different even if it a small.

As you know, the war began on October 7 and lasted ten months. During this period, we were unable to obtain food, drink, or treatment because we did not have money.

There is no source of income for the family at the present time, so we are unable to buy food, clean water, and medicine, especially after we are afflicted with the ongoing infectious diseases spread in the north like Hepatitis C disease.

Our house has been damaged a lot since the beginning of the war. We are from the north of Gaza and we are still in the north and have not displaced to the south. We displaced 10 times from place to another seeking to safety .

We hope for your help and support, even if only a little.🙏🙏

Vetted by Femme intifada on telegram.

Also, vetted by gazavetters on tumbler and my number is #60

My campaign was recently vetted by butterfly effect group on Instagram and my number is #964

This is the link if you would to read our story well 👇👇

https://gofund.me/4e896ac1

Thank you all

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"The gods love you❤" **INCREDIBLY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER**

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.

the magnus archives?

Hello anomalous speaker from the void, I appreciate you reaching out to me as a guiding light. I actually have had this source recommended to me before by someone, so I will certainly take note of it, and look into the content at a later date. I have the time now, seeing as I'm not allowed back into work until I've recovered..

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..

HAPPY IDES OF MARCH, JULES!

well. maybe not so happy for you.... 🗡 🗡 🗡 /silly

Tis the season, I suppose. In any case, it's nice to see you again Fallen.

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.

helloooo jules! it is i coming to throw another idea into the pit, or more correctly, re-casting it out there. i have been pondering intensely over all kinds of media i know, trying to find anything that feels right with your Descriptions. then i thought to myself it would be somewhat amusing, in a way, if you turned out to be oc kin. then i thought of it some more. of course, i know that we've talked about me being oc kin before, but i figured bringing it up again wouldn't hurt. after all, not much to lose from it!

i think perhaps the issue of oc kin can seem a bit daunting, because you're essentially stumbling around in the dark with no reference to any specific media to guide you. the way i have dealt with this over the past 7 years of oc kin happenstances is no more & no less than essentially... envisioning a variety of Things that may or may not fit, & then keep/discard depending on what feels right (this is why i have so many kin mems of this kin, outside of the fact that obviously i know things about this Media since I Created it. there is actually a distinction, which i can attempt to describe in further detail if you need it). in crude terms, the process is more or less stumbling around in the dark & throwing random things at a wall to see what sticks. i would assume other oc kins may have Different experiences but i have never met another oc kin, or at least not one to my particular flavor of it, so i can only talk for myself.

i am realizing that this is getting quite Long so i will leave there & it may be somewhat confusing to read BUT you know you're entirely free to ask me whatever questions you want for more info & clarification so feel free \(￣︶￣*\))

tl;dr: re-suggesting the idea you may be ockin; possibly confusing explanation of how i navigated being from a Thing that doesn't exist except in my head in the hopes it may be of help to you

That is very possible, in fact it’s probably the most likely at this point, given the fact I’ve latched on to every recount of memories that have come my way thus far. Your memories and experiences have illuminated spots of my life where I would have otherwise felt lost, so I deeply appreciate that you trusted me enough to share those experiences with..  Another thing I’ve been mulling over is if I could be conceptkin. Nowadays I feel like memories are all that I am, could that feeling hold a deeper meaning? Or could I even be a simple manifestation of my own fears? The longer I go without answers, the more attractive that possibility begins to seem- though I guess it wouldn’t explain the odd dreams that have haunted me. You are right, having nothing to reference back to does make me a bit nervous, but I knew this whole process wasn’t going to be easy regardless of the outcome so I’m fully ready to face that possibility and come up with a plan to better organize and keep track of memories. I’ll definitely keep OC kin in the back of my mind as I go through all my notes, but I want to rule out all potential answers beforehand. Thank you for reminding me though