Hey Magpie! I Just Wanted To Reach Out Because I Noticed You Have A Pretty Strong Focus On The Idea You

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!

Your Earliest Experienced Memories As Alterhuman, Fictionkin, etc!

I have admittedly been bogged down to my work, so I apologize for the silence. I'm married to my job and academic courses first and foremost...

After having so many wonderful conversations with you all, I would like to open a conversation to any and all who see this post. Recall your earliest memory that you experienced. Was it when interacting with something that triggered your memories? Was it when viewing a television program, or reading a chapter from a book in a dark corner of the library? Perhaps it came to you in a dream. However it came to you, I would like to hear all the details that you are willing to provide because you all have such remarkable stories, some that have been left unsaid. You deserve it to yourselves to share your stories, to let yourselves be known.

Interacting With Many Works of Media, When Kinsidering

I’ve come to notice something, in my tireless journey to find my place amongst the cosmos. It’s something some of you may have felt before, which is why I have decided to document it here. I have had a number of amazing fictionkin reach out to me over the past couple of days to share with me their memories, their woes, and to impart their wisdom upon me- naturally, I tried to read up on and view nearly all of their sources. It’s my cross to bare, that I’m an overachiever in this regard, and I have no one to blame but myself for this feeling that has come over me. 

It’s sort of a fuzzy feeling, like my bones are weightless and I just can’t think straight. It’s not bad, it’s just…odd.  My brain feels completely fried, like I can’t convey myself as articulately as I had before. I’ve been ruminating over possibilities for a while, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve been thinking about it too much? And of course, it’s been a long while since I’ve had so much social interaction so it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities that this could just simply be my lack of sociability catching up with me.

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?

peeks head in here

how's things going? haven't heard from you in a bit.

hope you're ok and making progress on your kin journey!

-the neon attic

Thank you for checking in on me, Neon Attic. I appreciate the message. In truth, I may have found myself a bit confused as of lately, and accidently made a kinfirmation announcement which may have turned out to be false.. Again. Now that it’s brought up however, I would like to make an invitation to any of the following fictionkin or fictives;

*Anyone from the source The Mandela Catalogue, especially the alternates

*Anyone from the Everyman HYBRID source

*Those who are from Marble Hornets

*Anyone from The Magnus Archives, but Especially any Jons or Elias’’

Some of my questions will pertain to dynamics and relationships in the sources, the more traumatic experiences within your source, and possible mental/phantom shifts you've experienced in relation to your identity. I feel I could probably gain a great deal of insight from these sources specifically at the moment, so if you are interested in reaching out, please answer this kincall. My dms are always open.

A Rising Fever

It's a common fear, to ruminate over the idea of falling ill to some incurable disease and watching as your body succumbs to the sheer weight of said symptoms. It rises up from the pit of your stomach and burns the back of your throat like vomit the longer you think about it. Web MD’s symptom checker, or what some like to playfully call “Doctor Google” is a temptation that's difficult to not indulge in. I know– we've all fallen for it, at one time or another. Sometimes I'll sit there, reading rare conditions, one after another and feeling my anxiety heighten more and more until it hits a climax. Things like skin necrosis, or heart failure, or waterborne illnesses- it can happen to anyone, at any time. Of course there’s factors that can put you at higher risk, but the fact that you can never be sure is enough to keep you up all night. 

The next thing I know, I've gone and sanitized my whole house in fear of germs. 

Hypochondriasis is classified as a simple anxiety disorder born from paranoia, but how many times have people been written off as being hypochondriacs when they actually were ill? There is a high probability that the percentage is substantial... Enough for it to be concerning, at least. 

What is it that really stokes the flames of your mounting dread when it comes to your immune system coming under attack? Is it the ever present fear of death that we're always running from one day at a time? Or is it the concern that your body will never recover, forever changed by this virus that has invaded your very soul?

Okay, I keep reading a lot of your dreams, how they're about you being some sort of cryptid monster. I see in your pinned post that you have a feeling (one of) your source(s) is horror and that you also doomed souls and came from a bad timeline or something.

This is a really long shot- especially since this source isn't finished yet, but it has timeline splits and a demon that steals and eats souls, with the help of yours truly. (Also the demon can see the future so, like, that's pretty cool)

Though, I could just be putting my own want of finding my canon demon onto you, but... 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anyway, at the current time source is 5 hours long with all endings and secret dialogue. It's like $15 on Steam but free to watch by Faz Faz on YouTube.

CW for like... All the typical stuff you'd see in gothic and psychological horrors, though.

-Ashley Graves (from the Visual Novel/Puzzle Solving RPG: the Coffin of Andy and Leyley)

Well, I certainly feel like a demon. The detail of it having premonitions of the future does speak to me, now that you mention it. I'm not sure if it's kin shifts, but often during and directly after dreams, I get this feeling. 

It wriggles its way into my brain and gives me this sense of knowing, this sense of how things are or will be.. and then when it's done shifting things into focus, it just bleeds out of me, leaving me wanting more. It leaves me feeling less than human. If these words sound familiar to you at all, then I may owe an apology to one Ashley Graves from a doomed timeline. We will soon see-

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.

An Update (Part 2);

I am scaling the walls of my enclosure. I misjudged how this time off would affect me. I wish to be broken free from this mortal prison

Ocean Eyes

There is an eye at the bottom of the ocean, belonging to an old god whose name has been forgotten, but still leaves echoes in the memory of man. It's there, under the rolling waves and aquatic life. In a constant staring contest with our sun that's dripping crimson with the blood of so many who have given into their fears, the eye gazes not just on that sun but through every life that has ever lived in this reality we've found ourselves in, and so many others.

 When it finally blinks, the world will end. This is a fact. The Earth will begin to swallow us whole, and nature will take back what we've stolen from it. Bridges collapsing and headlights careering into the star filled glinting sea, into doors that were never meant to be opened. Fear and panic in the air, do you feel it too?.. and when that eye blinks, our sun will too. I want to look down into those depths just so I can reassure myself it's fine. ‘It was just a dream, a terrible, terrible dream that you had because you went into cardiac arrest,’

But it's still wriggling in my brain, pulling in and out of my periphery like a tide. So I think..

I'm going to run a little experiment. I've mentioned my urges- 

My fixation with hearing others experiences and memories, my drive to feel that connection, and to pick at the more distressing details of said memories. I would like to stop completely, just to see how uncomfortable I'd get. I want to document how long it takes until my resolve cracks, just to get a sense of how trapped I really am in this cycle.

So, if I don't post for a while, my blog isn't dead! I'm simply trying not to fall into a pattern that I've been feeding into for the past 3 months. I will post the results when I feel I've gotten satisfying results.

Hello,

Help me share my latest artwork, describing one of the situations I went through during this war

Help us spread awareness about suffering in war, please 🙏

I hope you will Reblog and Donate to support my family to survive.

My New Post LINK

Thanks a lot 🌹🌹

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