Ocean Eyes

I Have Never Been A Hero

I’ve had time to reflect upon my dream, and it has led me to some revelations about my own nature, and what lines I’m willing to cross in order to find the truth I’m so desperately craving. I think that the reason the dream bothered me so much is that I don’t know if I would’ve done differently if I had another chance. I have never been a hero. 

I wanted to once, you know–

Even before I had so many wonderful tumblr users trying to help me find my identity, even before I put it out there into the universe with absolute certainty that I was a villain, people have always compared me to the antagonist of the story. 

It's a vibe I'm giving or something I'm doing, maybe it's the sins I carry on my back. 

I remember reading all these books as a child, and even when I outgrew them and I'd be loathe to admit to what would indefinitely ruin the academic image I have so painstakingly built up around me like a shell-  the classic fairytale story always held a special place in my heart. 

I would sit there with my eyes scanning over every line, rereading the best parts, the ones that really made you feel like you were there with the protagonist, and I would think, 

‘I want to be the hero. I want to save the princess from a tower and defeat the big bad and live happily ever after!’ …but I don't think I'm that. These things that I do, digging into the depths of people’s anxieties, and breathing them in as if it were my own.. I don’t think it’s a noble cause, to tear into other’s fears in hopes of finding my own closure. So I’m not a hero. 

People seldom are, it's rare to find that kind of excellence out in the world but even with all the signs pointing that I'm a villain, or a monster, or god forbid a world ender– it is flattering that so many people reached out to me, when my mood has been so low. There is something about hearing about so many wonderful stories of others that keeps me tethered, and for that I'm grateful to all of you. The beauty in your experiences is what makes everything worth it- both your triumph and strife. So please, bare with me. Even if I am a villain.

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.

A Dream About A Kindled Flame

He’s rough, glaring at me with brown eyes that are tawny and sharp. The burns encompass his entire being, his nose crooked and scarred, his neck licked by intricate scarring as he lays there, waiting for me. I won’t bore you with the details- we all know how this goes. 

The story really begins in a bar. My name is Jim Navy, and I’m a wanted man. There’s just so many criminals in downtown Chicago, I never stood out, and so I was never caught for my heinous actions. So long as you keep your head down, you can live as a ghost during the day and a monster during the night. I remember when I was young and romanticised this lifestyle, how I thought that it would grant me respect and protection, but these people out here are nothing more but rabid dogs, willing to throw you under the bus for a moment's notice. I found no loyalty in Chicago, but I made sure I always came out on top. Whether it be a crook trying to con me, or a late night lover threatening to go to the cops, I got my last word in. There was nothing more to it than that.

‘Sometimes I still think about her face, after I cut her throat.’ This was the thought in his mind that allowed me to disconnect from him in the dream. As he remembered the woman he killed and mugged, I too could feel her face burning the backs of my eyes. ‘This man is a monster,’ and still he takes a long fluid swig off his beer. He’s haunted by the actions he took that night, is how he tries to ration it with himself, but it doesn’t stop him from sauntering over to the pretty redhead who's been staring him down across the bar since the moment he walked in and making the same mistakes he did that night. She’s so pretty though, you can’t hold him accountable for his actions when the woman looks like that, right? Is what he tells himself, and I find myself wanting to gag.

He is right though, she is beautiful. Long dark red hair that's impossibly straight, and wild amber eyes. She smirks as he takes a seat across from her at her table, and purrs out a simple, “Took you long enough,” and from there, he drunkenly stumbles into the same mistakes. Sharing too much, asking to take her back to his place, telling her all the things he expects will happen should she go home with him, and she’s all smiles in agreement, but since I’m not Jim, I can see the steady calculation in her eyes. This is a trap where the hunter will soon find out he’s prey. 

She pushes me against the wall in a passionate kiss, trapping my arms above my head in a pose that leaves all my vital organs open for attack. It’s passionate, and I can feel the heat sweltering around us in the back alley. There’s something chemical fueled in her perfume that’s making me dizzy. It permeates the cool night air along with the heat that exudes off our bodies. 

This girl is taking over.

I never got this sort of attention before, not really. It’s rare that attractive women pay me any mind, so my head is still floating when she roughly sinks her hand into the back pocket of Jim, and fishes out his wallet. It’s then that she abruptly pulls away, looking through the mementos of drivers licences he keeps, of all his victims. “What’re you doing, angel face?” He slurs, making a reach for hands. “If you’re smart, you’ll stay the hell back.” The charm has been forgone, and her voice is hot with venom. “How many people have you killed?”

“What the fuck?” His voice is slurred as sweat drips down his temple. The heat comes off of her in waves, like when you first open an oven on a cold winter night. You can see the steam, as she begins to ignite, flames fragmenting off her frame. 

“Wait!” She pauses when it’s my voice that comes through, and not Jim’s. This isn’t how the story goes, afterall. Curiously, the fire engulfed entity that now stands before me cocks her head to the side.. Imploring me to continue. “Does your abnormally high body temperature have any any affect on your neurological function? Because I read-” She cuts men off with a stunned cackle, and in the absurdity of the situation, I can’t help but timidly join her laughter. After all, it’s not every day that you find yourself about to be killed by the human torch. 

Set me ablaze, she did. It was horrific, the fire crackling and searing away layers of flesh. I desperately grabbed at her, only to find her body the consistency of half melted wax. A cruel and horrible death, but I found myself wishing I hadn’t wasted my question on something so stupid.. I was intrigued by her.

So About That Vent I Wrote A Minute Ago

I know writing, "It's never going to stop," and using the tag that I had was probably in poor taste, but I feel like deleting it might make it seem like I'm trying to hide something, and I want to remain completely transparent with you.

I'm not sure if I actually feel those things, I think sometimes I get these urges that become deafeningly loud, and I just want it to stop.

It usually starts as a steady buildup behind the backs of my eyes and against my larynx. Like, I'm trying to explain the weight of the air because something changes but I'm not sure how to explain it. Maybe it's hot and cold?. And there's humming in the air that I constantly hear along with everything else, and suddenly my sense of control is being violently and explosively ripped away from me.. And time doesn't just slip by around me like with the descriptions of dissociation I've read about, no everything comes to a screeching halt because that's usually the point where I just fall apart right at the seams, you know? And I always feel so juvenile and embarrassed after.

Like it's a whole ordeal and then instead of the world ending like it felt like before, it just keeps on going and I have to show my face around the people who watched me curl up into a corner crying the way I had. It all goes, the image I've been trying to build up for myself.

I can even feel it starting to happen. I can almost visualize it happening, like I'm just one drop of blood spattering into my face while I'm working or one misstep down the stairs away from that happening and I think about that and what it'd mean for me .... There's a whole ocean of stressors behind these eyes, and hell becomes something as simple as an itchy shirt or an embarrassing social interaction. Does anyone feel this too? The visceral fear of being seen?

Thank you for the tag, fallen- starlight. Here I go, showing off exactly the type of literature I consume..

@fallen--starlight @quinnlistspeaks @bohemianrpdsy @anothershottotryagain @jellybean-sys

Blorbo Poll

Rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Tagged by @powersuitup. Probably very predictable picks for anyone who knows me but whatevs.

NP tagging @tweetthang96, @coolnerdyrn, @kayliemalinza, @raaorqtpbpdy, and @thephilosophersapprentice.

A List Of Fictional Crushes I've Had Since The Age Of 9

It’s actually rather funny

My love life is near nonexistent, and it’s understandable why; I’ve never exactly been a looker, the idea of intimacy sets me on edge because how can you trust someone enough to hold that level of companionship with them? That being saaiiiid..

The nice thing about fictional crushes is that they can never leave you, or disappoint you (or even worse, you disappoint them!) Yes, I held the characters I read about all near and dear to my heart. So, here’s a comprehensive list of all the fictional crushes I’ve had since the age of 9, all in chronological order for your convenience:

Morticia Adams (The Addams Family 1991)

Frank Zhang (Heroes of Olympus Percy Jackson series)

Delores Claiborne (Title Name, Self Explanatory)

Monica Geller (Friends)

The Reporter Courtney Cox Played (Scream. This Crush Probably Wouldn't Have Happened if I Hadn't Watched Friends)

Peeta Melmark (The Hunger Games Series, Book Version Only)

Olivia Benson (Law and Order SVU)

Griffin (The Invisible Man 1933, Movie Version Only) ((I also need to clarify that a lot of my thoughts about Griffin are admittedly out of character))

Sam Tully (ASoIaF AND Game of Thrones)

Whoever It Was Rosario Dawson Played in (Death Proof)((It was the damn kick at the end)))*

Samwise Gamgee (Mostly the Movie Adaptations of Lord of the Rings)

If there's anything writing this down has taught me, it's that I have a clear type in both genders, and I'm of the opinion that the two of them would make the perfect couple, somewhere far *far* away from me 

(Feel Free To Reblog With Your Own Fictional Pinings)

Knock Knock,

I'm not sure how you're going to answer this without either revealing who you are or making a new ask but alright--

Who's there?

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.

URGENT HELP🚨🚨🚨🍉🇵🇸

Hello,

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Vetted by Femme intifada on telegram.

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Thank you all

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