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ginnyweasleymybeloved · 4 years ago

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evermore x hp / masterlist

hp x readers based on the absolute masterpiece that is evermore by the love of my life taylor swift. i’ll be posting these fics once or twice a week and i will update the links once i’ve posted each one <3 really hope you guys enjoy <3

// these aren’t going to be exact line by line songfics, but based around a particular line or verse //

all fic masterlist

[🌸 = fluff, 🍁= angst]

taglist: @padsfirewhisky

[🌸] willow - fred weasley x reader

“life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

they count me out time and time again

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

but I come back stronger than a 90's trend”

summary: hogwarts’ most popular playboy has made it very clear that you, his best friend, are not his type. seeing as you were crushing on him hard, you decide to take matters into your own hands

«»

[🍁] champagne problems - ron weasley x reader

“you had a speech, you’re speechless

love slipped beyond your reaches

and i couldn’t give a reason

champagne problems”

summary: on a cold night in november, your boyfriend, ron, gets sentimental thinking about a future that you’re not sure you deserved

«»

[🌸] gold rush - ginny weasley x reader

“and the coastal town

we wandered ‘round had never

seen a love as pure as it”

summary: revelling in the fact that you have the most amazing girlfriend in the world, while unbeknownst to you, she’s thinking exactly the same thing

«»

[🌸🍁] ‘tis the damn season - cedric diggory x reader

“so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

‘tis the damn season

write this down

i’m stayin’ at my parent’s house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown”

summary: you bump into an old flame and old feelings catch up to you as you find yourself rekindling said flame

«»

[🍁] tolerate it - harry potter x reader

“i made you my temple, my mural, my sky

now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your

life

drawing hearts in the bylines

always taking up too much space or time

you assume i’m fine, but what would you do if i

break free and leave us in ruins?

took this dagger in me and removed it?

gain the weight of you then lose it

believe me, i could do it”

summary: in the chaos of war, harry pushes the one person he didn’t ever want to lose, to the brink of walking away from him

«»

[🍁] no body, no crime - marauders x reader / peter pettigrew x reader / sirius black x reader

“i think he did it but i just can’t prove it

no, no body no crime

but i ain’t letting up ‘till the day i die”

summary: your best friends, lily and james potter, were betrayed by their secret keeper however you’re sure it couldn’t have been sirius.

«»

[🌸] happiness - remus lupin x reader

“there is happiness

past the blood and bruise

past the curses and cries

beyond the terror of the nightfall

haunted by the look in my eyes

that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

and there is happiness”

summary: after the death of his friends and the betrayal of sirius, remus fears that he has lost the capacity for happiness. until you came along

«»

[🌸] dorothea - hermoine granger x reader

“hey dorothea

do you ever stop and think about me?

when we were younger

down in the park

honey, making a lark of the misery

you got shiny friends since you left town

a tiny screen’s the only place i see you now

and i got nothing but well wishes for ya”

summary: you see your childhood best friend for the first time in nearly a decade, you hold the same love and respect for her now as you did then

«»

[🍁] coney island - george weasley x reader

“the question pounds my head

‘what’s a lifetime of achievement?’

if i pushed you to the edge

but you were too polite to leave me

and do you miss the rogue

who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

will you forgive my soul

when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to

care?”

summary: business is booming and the joke shop is expanding at a rapid rate, by the time it reaches its peak, geoege wants to bask in his success with the woman he loves, only to realise he’d completely neglected you in favour of pursuing his dreams and he doesn’t know if you’ll forgive him for it

«»

[🍁🌸] ivy - harry potter x reader

“how’s one to know?

i’d live and die for moments that we stole

on begged and borrowed time

so tell me to run

or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become”

summary: he thinks he’ll only ruin you, you think he’s worth the risk

«»

[🍁] cowboy like me - sirius black x reader

“you’re a bandit like me

eyes full of stars

hustling for the good life

never thought i’d meet you here

it could be love

we could be the way forward

and i know i’ll pay for it”

summary: sirius runs into you at a pure-blood party he’d been dragged to, the pair of you find solace in each other and gravitate towards one another from then on, however, noting the similarities between you and him, you deduct that you’ll end up paying dearly when you begin to crave more than secret rendezvous at pure-blood occasions.

«»

[🌸] long story short - george weasley x reader

“and he’s passing by

rare as the glimmer as a comment in the sky

and he feels like home

if the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go”

summary: george weasley is undoubtedly the love of your life, you realise

«»

[🍁] marjorie - remus lupin x lupin!reader

“the autumn chill that wakes me up

you loved the amber skies so much

long limbs and frozen swims

you’d always go past where our feet could

touch

and i complained the whole way there

the car ride back and up the stairs

i should’ve asked you questions

i should’ve asked you how to be

asked you to write it down for me

should’ve kept every grocery store receipt

‘cause every scrap of you would be taken

from me”

summary: your father dies in the battle of hogwarts and you’re left to go through his things

«»

[🍁] closure - fred weasley x reader

“yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

it cuts deep to know ya, right to the bone

yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

i know that it’s over, i don’t need your

closure”

summary: you and fred have a messy breakup and after a few months he owls you to see how you’re doing, and it just so happens that you’re doing fine without him

«»

[🌸] evermore - harry potter x reader

“and i was catching my breath

floors of a cabin creaking under my steps

and i couldn’t be sure

i had a feeling so peculiar

this pain wouldn’t be for

evermore”

summary: a soft moment between you and harry as you heal from the war together

«»

[🍁🌸] right where you left me - sirius black x reader

“did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

time went on for everybody else, she won’t

know it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

how it was supposed to be

did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

break-ups happen everyday, you don’t have to

lose it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

and you’re sitting in front of me”

summary: when sirius is condemned to azkaban you wait, and wait, and wait, right where he left you

«»

[🍁] it’s time to go - george weasley x reader

“that old familiar body ache

the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

you know when it’s time to go”

summary: transitioning from best friends to lovers isn’t always the best idea, sometimes it’s better to walk away before there’s nothing left to leave

«»

#harry potter x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #ginny weasley x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #hermoine granger x reader #ron weasley x reader #cedric diggory x reader

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hisunshiine · 4 years ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 - Part 4

Min Yoongi.

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 ထ written by @sunkissedwriter / m. a. tw.

↳ au based off of The King: Eternal Monarch | Cross posted to her AO3

Republic of Korea

You kept replaying the voicemail on the flip phone, unable to understand what the voice was saying.

The northern K stadium created a big buzz-

A hand shutting your laptop caused you to jump, revealing Namjoon’s hand with a coffee. You pulled your headphones out of your ears, “Can you announce yourself any louder?”

Namjoon laughed, “I thought that was pretty loud. Have you found anything yet?”

“Listen to this.” Reopening the laptop he shut and pressing play on the recording. You looked at him expectantly.

Namjoon shrugged, slinging one leg onto your desk, “It sounds like the news.”

“But why? Why would he have saved a voicemail of the news? And he never once made an outgoing call on this phone. They were all incoming.” You leaned back in your chair, cracking open the coffee he brought you.

You weren’t able to take a sip before the phone on your desk rang, “Yes this is Lieutenant (YLN)”

A lifting voice came through the line, “Lieutenant, I was hoping you could meet with me today.”

“How did you get this number?” You hissed, waving away Namjoon’s questioning eyebrow.

“Jungkookie gave it to me. I’ve never met someone so eager to help. It’s such a breath of fresh air compared to Jeongguk.”

“Get to the point Jung Hope,” you snapped, “I’m at work and this phone is for emergencies only.”

There was a soft sigh, “I believe there has been a...misunderstanding between us. I want to apologize and explain myself to you.”

You took a deep breath, rubbing at the bridge of your nose, “Okay. I will meet you at the hotel when I’m done.”

“No, meet me at the bamboo forest, the trailhead right at the entrance.” He answered, “I have something I wish to show you there.”

“Fine, I will meet you at the bamboo forest. Do not call me unless it is important.” You slammed the phone down onto the receiver, meeting Namjoon’s blank expression. “Don’t ask. Did you interview the suspect?”

Namjoon unwrapped a chocolate bar, snapping a piece off for you before stuffing the rest in his mouth, “Mmhmm, he claims the victim had struck him first when he was leaving the bar but that he didn’t strike the victim back, that he just took off running.”

“If that’s the case then how did the body end up in the trunk of his car?” You stretched in your seat, “The victim owed him millions of won, why not just fess up to the crime, get a lesser sentence.”

“You know, Lieutenant, for as good as you are to turn a gambling bust into a homicide. I don’t think you have the criminal right.” Namjoon came around your desk, pulling you to the side as he typed away, “This, it’s the CCTV from the bar.”

The grainy footage showed the suspect stumbling out the door, holding on to the wall. The suspect turned as if he was called, taking one step and gesturing, appearing to yell at someone. Another figure stepped from behind the suspect, striking him with a crowbar, dropping the suspect immediately down to the ground. You focused on the screen, trying to make out the dark figure. A flash of headlights revealed the victim, tossing the crowbar to the side as he quickly ran off.

“This still doesn’t prove the suspect as innocent, do we know where the suspect was after this?” You crossed your arms, the timeline of the crime becoming blurrier with each new lead.

“Whether or not this is proof, this still helps us with finding the murder weapon.” Namjoon, pointed at the screen, “Ready to go dumpster diving?”

You let your head thunk against your desk, “I thought when I became lieutenant I wouldn’t have to do anything like this.” Your phone rang again, “Lieutenant (YLN) speaking.”

“Ah yes Lieutenant, this is the Korean Racing Association, did you send us that inquiry about the white horse?”

You sat up, “Yes! Yes I did, is it stolen?”

“No not stolen, in fact this horse is a rare breed from Spain they are incredibly hard to find and even harder to bring to Korea. We were wondering if we would be able to come see the horse in person.” The man on the other line continued to ramble on, spouting facts about the horse that was currently staying on your father’s lawn.

“You know...I am a bit busy right now, let me call you back later to schedule a better time to see the horse.” You set the phone down gently, running your hands through your hair, “Let’s go dumpster diving. I need a distraction.”

******

Hoseok stood with his hands clasped behind his back, searching for you among the crowd. He couldn’t stop the smile on his lips when he saw you, your hair flowing free around you, scowl in place. “You made it, thank you for meeting me.”

“You said you were going to explain yourself. Go ahead.” You shoved your hands into your pockets.

Hoseok held his arm out, “Walk with me.”

You hesitated slightly but slipped your arm into his, falling into step with him, “Why did you want me to meet you here. Why not at the hotel.”

“I’ve been at the library all day, reading on the history of this world compared to my world,” Hoseok glanced down at you, “I wanted to just take a walk with you, get some fresh air.” He continued the slow pace, “The two worlds diverged after the death of Prince Sohyeon, in this world he passed away before he became King. In my world he went on to live as King Yeongjong, there was never a separation, the invasion was stopped early. However it appears that in this world, this country thrived after the separation, advancing like no other country has seen before. It’s amazing.”

You started laughing, “You write fan fiction right? And you’re just testing out your writing on me. That must be it. I thought you were going to explain yourself, instead it’s more nonsense.” You tried to pull your arm away, instead being pulled to a stop.

“If you don’t believe me, then why are you helping me? Is it some sense of duty, Lieutenant?” Hoseok questioned, “You can’t deny there is some sort of connection between us. You seem to be the reason as to why I was brought from my world to yours.” Hoseok took a breath, “You are also the reason why I can’t go back to my world. At least not yet.”

You pulled your arm free, “What are you talking about?”

Hoseok gestured, “Here. There was a gate here, a large stone obelisk that acted as a door between worlds. I didn’t hear the…” Hoseok’s eyes widened in realization, “The manpasijeok . That has to be it...that has to be the key between worlds. That’s why no one can hear it...because it-”

“It sings for the person who’s fate it will change,” You huffed.

“You know the story of the manpasijeok ?” Hoseok questioned, “How?”

You shrugged, “It was something my mom would always tell me...a magic flute made for Kings. It would only play for those when Fate calls, or in times of great need.”

Hoseok started to laugh, shaking his head, “I searched for hours about the manpasijeok in your world's history. I couldn’t find anything of it.” He met your eyes, “You’re a brilliant young woman, you became a cop because of your deduction skills and sharp mind. The evidence is in front of you, yet you still choose to not believe me.”

“What evidence?”

Hoseok held up his hand, curling one finger down, “Myself, you can’t find my fingerprints and I know for a fact my DNA will not show up in your database.” He curled a second finger, “My horse. Kookie told me how you sent Mang’s pictures to the Racing Association and they contacted you about how rare he is.” He curled a third finger, “Your Detective Kim Namjoon recognized my sigil.” He curled a fourth finger, “You.”

You swallowed past the knot in your throat, “There’s always an explanation to everything. You can’t expect me to believe that just based on your ‘evidence’.” You ran a hand through your hair, “Jung Hope. Don’t you have a family? Don’t you think they’re worried about you?”

Hoseok gave a sad smile, “No. I don’t. My family passed a long time ago.” He took your hand, running his thumb along your palm, “The first duty of the new King is to carry out the funeral of the old King.”

He could see your guard break at the sadness in his tone, “You’re an orphan…”

“I am. I have been since I was eight. Since then Jeongguk has been my only family. I have extended relatives but they only speak to me about the succession of the throne.” Hoseok’s eyes flicked up from where his hand connected with yours, “I have decided, Lieutenant, you shall be my Queen.”

You blinked, “Your Queen? You want me to be your Queen?! You don’t even know who I am and yet you want me to be the Queen of a country in a different world that I don’t believe exists!”

“You’re as slow witted as a bear.” Hoseok said slowly, watching as you walked away from him and began to scream out into the bamboo forest.

“A bear?! You’re...and would your people allow you to marry a bear?!” You screamed, grabbing at your head, feeling pressure to begin to build behind your eyes.

“No actually they wouldn’t and the cabinet would be highly opposed to me bringing a bear into the palace.” Hoseok snapped back, “But it’s not a bear I want to bring into the palace...it’s you.”

“Jung Hope-” You started, leveling him with a glare as he cut off your answer.

“My name...is Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok answered, giving you a smile, “You were close. If you are to be my Queen...you should know my name.”

Your brow quirked, “I thought no one could speak the King’s name.”

“You can’t say it in public, at least in my world.” Hoseok took a step towards you, “Here all I can ask is that you don’t share it with this world.”

You shivered, “Fine. Continue to live in your delusion. Leave Kookie alone, leave everyone alone. I get your DNA results in a few days, just...just stay out of trouble.” You turned to leave, feeling another coat draped on your shoulders.

Hoseok gently pulled your hair out from beneath his coat, “You won’t have to worry about me, Lieutenant. I will be a model citizen.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and left you alone, knowing the information load would be too much for you to handle with him around. He meandered his way back to the hotel, thoughts full of hope that you would find it in your heart to accept the truth. He smiled slightly to himself, “My stubborn bear.” How he would end up with the love of his life refusing to believe him, Fate only knew.

A drop hit his nose, signaling the incoming rain. Hoseok picked up his pace, moving through the crowd of umbrellas, trying to make his way back to the hotel before the rain got worse. He bumped shoulders with someone, pausing to apologize as he knocked the man’s umbrella to the ground. The stranger took the umbrella and smiled briefly, thanking him.

Hoseok stood shocked as the stranger walked away, blending into the crowd. The rain picked up but Hoseok couldn’t care less as his hair stuck to his forehead, the man that he had bumped into, the stranger who’s umbrella he knocked down; had a face he hadn’t seen in years .

That man held the face of his uncle.

Min Yoongi.

The warm water couldn’t chase the chill in Hoseok’s soul as he rested his forehead against the tile of the shower wall.

The memories of his childhood flooded his mind, the smell blood, the sound of the gunfire, the feeling of the manpasijeok pressed against his throat. But above all else, he remembered the fury in his uncle’s face and the joy in his uncle’s eyes at having Hoseok nearly dead in his hands.

Hoseok slammed his palm against the wall, feeling the pressure build in his chest. The man he saw out on the road hadn’t aged a day . He still held the same dark, calculating eyes set against pale skin, how.

How could he be here? How could he have…

The second half of the manpasijeok .

It was never found.

He slammed his fist against the tile, could it be that his uncle had been called by the manpasijeok as well?

But the body…

He punched the wall harder, if Jeongguk had a doppelgänger, who’s to say his uncle didn’t have one as well.

One that he could use to swap and frame as his own dead body .

He punched the wall a third time, a sharp pain traveling up his hand as the title shattered under his force. He needed to return to his world, immediately. He watched as his blood dripped down the broken tile, your face popping up into his thoughts. His eyes fluttered closed, why you had to be so stubborn he didn’t know, but he hoped you would be safe in the time that he was gone.

Grabbing his things, he quickly packed a small bag, “Kookie, I’m leaving for a while, can you grab the things from the hotel room and hold onto them for me?”

Kookie’s tired voice flitted through the line, “Hyung, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I’ve left the palace empty for too long. I must return. But I will be back as soon as I can...Jungkookie, can I trust you to be the Unbreakable Sword of this world?” Hoseok asked the younger, having grown fond of the Jeongguk of this world.

Jungkook yawned over the phone, “Of course, hyung. I’ll protect your stuff with honor.”

He smiled, “Thank you Kookie...take care. I will see you soon.” As he set the receiver down, he heard the familiar tune once more. The manpasijeok was singing its song once again.

With your words ringing in his mind, he found himself in front of your window, wishing desperately he could say goodbye.

But the manpasijeok had other plans and sang its song louder, stirring Mang to rear back and whinny into the night. Hoseok saddled his stead and swung a leg over, barely able to hold onto the reins before Mang took off, leading him straight to the gates. Hoseok burst out into the bamboo forest on the palace grounds, startling a younger guard.

He ignored the shouts, driving Mang towards the barn. He hopped off, landing lightly on the balls of his feet as Mang ran into the barn, huffing at the stable attendant. Hoseok continued on his path into the palace, throwing open the doors of his study.

Fury quickly replaced his shock at the sight of Jimin arguing with Jin over his whereabouts. He squared his shoulders and projected his voice, “Prime Minister Park.”

Jimin’s back stiffened, “Ah, Your Majesty, I didn’t think-”

Hoseok strode to his desk, “No you didn’t think. I believe I said all reports were to be submitted electronically, and that there would be no visitors to the palace at all?”

Jimin cleared his throat, “I am not a visitor.”

“You certainly are not a resident of the Palace, that makes you a visitor,” Hoseok turned his attention to Jeongguk, noticing the relief that eased the crinkle of his frown, “Captain Jeon, is Prime Minister Park considered a visitor to the Palace?”

Jeongguk bowed his head, “Your Majesty, based on your orders, Prime Minister Park is a trespasser on the Palace grounds.”

Jin looked smug as he stepped forward, “I will be happy to escort the Prime Minister to the door, Your Majesty.”

Jimin held up a hand, “Your Majesty, I have urgent news from the Cabinet. Something you must hear from me.”

Hoseok sat down at his desk, “Jin leave us. You can escort the Prime Minister after he has given me his report.”

Jin bowed his head with a clenched jaw, shutting the door to the study as he left. The tension in the room growing exponentially as Jimin turned back to Hoseok.

“Your Majesty, it’s good to see you. I honestly just came here to see if the rumors about you missing were true.” Jimin spoke with arrogance, perfect smile in place.

Hoseok rose to his full height towering over the smaller man, “You dare speak that way to your King?”

Jimin stepped forward causing Jeongguk to place an arm on Jimin’s chest, keeping him from approaching the King further. Jimin merely ignored the guard, “I do dare. You see, Your Majesty, while you were away ‘solving a problem’, I was here solving multiple problems that your people had. The Cabinet may not have loved it, but the people did. In fact...they all are starting to cheer for me to have a second term.” He tilted his head, “You were gone for a week, Your Majesty, and I kept this Kingdom running. You’re now indebted to me, you should be thanking me.”

Hoseok’s fury rose, his voice deepening as he spoke, “You forget your place, Prime Minister. Disrespect your King again, and we shall see how loudly your name will be called when I behead you for all to see. Leave.”

Jimin’s eyes sparkled, grin showing off brilliant teeth, “See you next week, Your Majesty.”

Hoseok let himself fall heavily onto the chair, exhaustion settling into his bones, “Jeonggukah, please close off the palace to any and all visitors.”

Jeongguk muttered the order, then questioned the King, “Your Majesty, where have you been.”

Hoseok chuckled to himself, “A parallel world.”

Jeongguk blinked, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Hoseok started to laugh even harder, “That's exactly what she told me.” He settled his gaze on his guard, “I followed the White Rabbit, Jeonggukah and I found a clock.” He placed the riding crop on the desk, “The manpasijeok , it led me to her . She’s...incredibly stubborn, fixed in her ways, but loyal beyond all belief. She didn’t even know who I was, or even liked me at all and yet she was doing everything in her power to attempt to reunite me with family.”

“Your Majesty...your family…” Jeongguk couldn’t finish his sentence.

Hoseok continued to stare down at the crop, “I thought my family was all dead...however in this parallel universe...there are dopplegangers of almost everyone I knew...they all looked the same as they do now except,” his hands started to shake, “I saw him Jeongguk. I saw the traitor Min Yoongi , and he looked exactly the way he did the day he killed my father.”

Jeongguk furrowed his brow, “How can that be? He was killed by the Royal Guard.” His guard shook his head, “You’re just tired, Your Majesty. You need rest, all this nonsense of ‘parallel worlds’ and the traitor being alive. You’ve overworked youself.”

A crack of thunder sent a pain down the King’s back, sharp cry leaving his lips as he doubled over his desk, clawing at his shoulder. Jeongguk rushed forward, pulling at the King’s clothes until he revealed a mark, as if he had been struck by lightning.

Hoseok’s shoulder burned once more at the second crack of thunder, the mark illuminating once more on his skin before dulling down and vanishing completely. He tried to catch his breath, gripping the wood of his desk, “I need you to bring me the autopsy report of Min Yoongi. Now. ”

“Your Majesty, I should be bringing you the Court Physician! Your shoulder it…” Jeongguk ran his fingers lightly along the King’s exposed skin, “The mark is gone...it had looked as if you were struck by lightining.”

Hoseok leaned against his chair, shutting his eyes, “It must be the power of the manpasijeok . It must be because I crossed the gate...do as I said Kookie.”

“Kookie?”

Hoseok waved his hand, “Sorry. Your doppelganger, his name is Kookie. Jungkookie. He is the complete opposite of you...more bright and full of life.”

“I can be bright and full of life,” Jeongguk dead panned, but nonetheless bowed and went to fetch what the King had requested.

A large knot settled in the King’s chest as he waited for Jeongguk to return with the report. His thoughts drifted over to you, if you were safe, and how long it would be before he could see you again.

↣ please do not repost work. images, netflix posters, and synopsis screens were made by @hisunshiine please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

↣ all stories are posted with the authors permission, and each story provides a link to the author and to their original content. due to some of them not having tumblr, they have asked me, the creator of the event, to post their stories.

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lizabethstucker · 4 years ago

Text

The Misadventures of Nero Wolfe edited by Josh Pachter

Subtitled: Parodies and Pastiches Featuring the Great Detective of West 35th Street

I loved this collection of stories, with only a few exceptions. Overall, I would give it 4.5 out of 5.

Introductions: Trouble in Triplicate

“At Wolfe’s Door” by Otto Penzler ~ about the characters.

“A Family Affair” by Rebecca Stout Bradbury ~ Rex Stout’s daughter provides a peek at the author.

“Plot It Yourself” by Josh Pachter ~ how the collection came to be.

Pastiches (Respectful imitations of the original works)

“The Red Orchid” by Thomas Narcejac

Translated from French, the story was written in 1947. The first English publication wasn’t until 1961. A young woman comes to hire Wolfe to discover who is trying to kill her uncle, a man who claims to have developed a red orchid. More creepy than respectful, especially how Archie hits on the female client. Too offensive for me. DNF

“Chapter 8 from ‘Murder in Pastiche’” by Marion Mainwaining

Published in 1955, this novel can also be found under the title of “Nine Detectives All at Sea”. A notorious gossip columnist is murdered during a sea cruise across the Atlantic. There are nine famous detectives on the ship as passengers. Trajan Beare, aka Nero Wolfe, is the focus of this particular chapter. It is hard to judge the whole book based on just one chapter. However, the characterization should be noted as being extremely close to the original source material. A nice read. No rating as it is just an excerpt.

“The Archie Hunters” by Jon L. Breen

Written in 1968, but never published until now. A cross of Nero Wolfe and Mike Hammer. Mock Himmler beats the crap out of anyone he encounters, particularly if they disagree with him or do something he doesn’t like. After beating up a news seller for carrying a “commie” magazine, Mock discovers an ad in the back requesting a private investigator for a missing person case. The ad, placed by Nero Wolfe, leads Mock to presume the missing person is Archie Goodwin. I’ve never been a fan of Mike Hammer nor his creator, Mickey Spillane, finding both of them to be disgusting in their love of violence, misogyny, and attitudes in general. I did enjoy this story nonetheless. 4 out of 5

“The Frightened Man” by O. X. Rusett

Gave up early on this anagram-stuffed story, even to the author’s name. More annoying than clever or cute. DNF

“Chapter 1 from ‘Murder in E Minor’” by Robert Goldsborough

I read the whole book when it was first published and, frankly, wasn’t too impressed. I do know that Goldsborough was selected by the Stout Estate to be the official author of the novels and I have read a few of his more recent books. I may try and reread it sometime down the road to see if my opinion has changed. No rating as it is only one chapter.

“The Purloined Platypus” by Marvin Kaye

While Goldsborough has the exclusive novel rights, Kaye asked to write short stories and was given the Estate’s permission as long as no novels were ever written. Benjamin Moultrie, president and board chairman of the Museum of the Strange, Odd and Peculiar, wants to hire Wolfe to investigate a robbery at the museum. As I wasn’t reading the magazines such as Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock, I missed reading any of these stories. Which is quite a tragedy. Excellent portrayals of not only the characters, but the case itself. 4 out of 5.

Parodies (Exaggerated imitations intended to poke fun at the source material)

“The House on 35th Street” by Frank Littler

Originally appeared in The Saturday Review in 1966. Little is known about the author, despite Pachter’s research attempts. A crowd is assembled in the Brownstone in a murder case, wanting to see some of the detective’s famous actions and quirks. There is an undercurrent of a very personal nature, especially at the end. 3.5 out of 5

“The Sidekick Case” by Patrick Butler

Another entry from The Saturday Review, this time in 1968, and another case of little information on the author. Wolfe objects to Archie being called a “sidekick” in a listing of the latest book. Cute. 3.5 out of 5

“The Case of the Disposable Jalopy” by Mack Reynolds

America has turned into an illiterate welfare state, Wolfe and Archie are old and sometimes forgetful, and things are beyond tight financially. Reynolds uses the last names of some of the biggest authors in Science Fiction in the story. These men want to hire Wolfe for a case of sabotage and the disappearance of a key developer. What a weird world Reynolds has built. As to the updates on the normal cast of characters in the series? Well, I never liked Orrie anyway. 4 out of 5

“As Dark as Christmas Gets” by Lawrence Block

An unpublished manuscript written by Cornell Woolrich is stolen during a Christmas party. The owner hires Wolfe wannabe Leo Haig and his Goodwin substitute, Chip Harrison, to recover it. I’ve come across stories in this series before and loved them, both for the obvious affection for the source material as well as the excellent characterization. 4.5 out of 5

“Who’s Afraid of Nero Wolfe?” by Loren D. Estleman

Arnie Woodbine, currently on parole, was fired from his last job for gambling on company time. He needs a job and finds an ad looking for an assistant sharp of wit. He finds himself hired by Claudius Lyon, a corpulent man with delusions of being Nero Wolfe. Arnie is hired as his Archie. Now all they need is a case. Since Lyon doesn’t have a private detective license and Arnie’s felony record prevents him from ever getting one, they would not be able to charge for their services. No problem as Lyon is actually quite wealthy. Their first case is regarding a poetry award that carries with it a $10,000 prize. One winner doesn’t appear to actually exist. Seriously one of the best sendups that I’ve ever read! This was a delight to read and deserved more stories. 4.5 out of 5.

“Julius Katz and the Case of Exploding Wine” by Dave Zeltserman

A friend of Julius’ that has a champion bulldog and heads a dog food company comes to see Julius with the dog in tow, asking for help to find someone to prevent Brutus from being kidnapped. He also asks that Julius find his murderer if he’s killed. Sure enough, the man is killed. Julius had agreed to investigate, but only after he gave the police a week to solve it themselves. Just as the week is up, an adversary calls to warn Julius that there is a bomb in his house, contained in a box of wine. Julius allows almost everyone to believe he is dead after the townhouse is completely destroyed from top to bottom. I absolutely loved this sorta tribute to Rex Stout. I’m particularly intrigued by Archie, an AI who is installed in Julius’ tie pin. That alone has me eyeing the book collections, but to be honest, this is a damn fine mystery. Julius is definitely not Nero Wolfe, at least in size, athleticism (martial arts), and loving women (a former womanizer who now has a regular girlfriend). He definitely is in the aspects of intelligence, laziness, and cutting Archie out of the loop. His collecting focus is wine rather than orchids, but both can be very expensive hobbies. 4.5 out of 5.

“The Possibly Last Case of Tiberius Dingo” by Michael Bracken

Age and diet are catching up to Tiberius Dingo’s body, but his mind and deductive reasoning is still as sharp as ever. His long-time assistant, Jughead Badloss, brings a client he dances with at the Senior Center, a woman who is certain she is being stalked. Family ties and age-old secrets are ripped out into the open before the case is done, for their client and for Jughead himself. The names are a little lame, but the story made up for it. 3.5 out of 5.

Potpourri

“The Woman Who Read Rex Stout” by William Brittain

Gertrude Jellison was the fat lady at a carnival sideshow, an intelligent woman whose extreme weight, over 500 pounds, kept her from her dream job of teaching psychology. Her partner, Robert Kirby, is the thin man, barely weighing seventy-five pounds. As a stunt, the carnival boss gave her Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe books to read during the shows. Surprisingly enough, Gert loved them and continued reading. She never expected to use what she learned to solve a murder, but sadly a newer member of the troup, a beautiful woman named Lili who was like a daughter to Gert, is murdered and the older woman knows she can solve the crime. This is a character that I could seriously have loved to read more about. A good little mystery as well, even if I quickly realized who the murderer would turn out to be. 3.5 out of 5.

“Sam Buried Caesar” by Josh Pachter

Police inspector Griffen had eleven children, each of whom was named after a famous fictional detective. Nero, just eleven years old, had set up his own detective agency, aided by his best friend and neighbor Artie Goodman. Their latest client, Sam, came to them after his dog, Caesar, was hit and killed by an out-of-state driver. Not wanting the poor animal to be left coldly abandoned on the street, he buried the dog in an empty lot. Coming back a short time later to get Caesar’s collar, the body is missing. He hires Nero and Artie to find the killer and recover the body. Sad and cute and inventive, but how Artie puts up with Nero will always be a mystery. 3.5 out of 5.

“Chapter 24 from Rasputin’s Revenge” by John Lescroart

The basic premise is that Nero Wolfe is the son of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler. I’ve not read this particular book, but it appears to be the last chapter in which Archie and Wolfe, going under his original name, are in Russia, appeared to have come up against Gregori Rasputin (although the author has it as Gregory), and was helped by Holmes and Dr. Watson after they were wanted for murder. I’m not going to rate it as I don’t consider it fair to rate a novel based on just one chapter.

“A scene from Might as Well Be Dead” by Joseph Goodrich

Adaptation of the story into a play. Once again, not rated.

“The Damned Doorbell Rang” by Robert Lopresti

When their fourteen granddaughter came to visit in a snit because her parents won’t allow her to go with friends to a concert in New York City, Eve and Jack decide to tell her about why they left the City. When they were younger, they had a brownstone in the City. Their neighbors were definitely different, all men living there. Jack didn’t much like any of them and keeps disparaging Eve’s stories about what they saw while living there. But Eve tells a tale of how she saved the men’s lives. Too many close calls are the reason that they moved to New Jersey. How could I not love this outsider’s look at Nero Wolfe? 3.5 out of 5.

#book review #Nero Wolfe #collection #The Misadventures of Nero Wolfe #Josh Pachter #mystery #short stories

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olivedoesmagic · 4 years ago

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Journal 36: Bad Apple

This journal really is best read in congruency with my other one. “The Secret diary of Acrians Locket” which can be found at the following link:

https://acriansjournal.home.blog/

I was speaking with The Question from DC comics today. Here’s the thing he’s never wrong. He is so smart when it comes to conspiracy theories. He is always right on the money. No matter how outlandish he seems. He told me that the men in black really were after me like my alter abadril imagined back in teh day and that if my friend didn’t banish her higher self like planned? She would’ve died and that that car crash saved her life. It hurt to hear that. But i trust him. Sometimes his shit is out there. But he’s never been wrong.

He has this conspiracy theory that I am every greek god incarnate and that’s why the kids at camp halfblood can’t figure out which god I am. Oh yeah I’ve been fuking with percy jackson. Um it’s real. It’s not bleeding ink or blurrying dice. It’s literally fuking real. But I’ve been messing with it a little bit and given my family that’s all I’m really inclined to say. That’s all I’m willing to. The Question told me that he wants me to kin him, but that means I’d also have to kin his current mask weilder in teh comics. He’s so bright. I adore him. He told me though even though I don’t do payment deals if I ever do kin him that I’d have to cosplay him as “payment” it matter to him. He said he kinned me. He’s just so brilliant and bright and clever I truly and utterly adore him.

I was meeting with several native tribes in my bedroom today. I do a lot of dancing today. And I broke down crying with a huge smile on my face. I had a realization. “I’m not a monster am I?” and the 11th doctor comforted me he said. “No No #### your not. Your not. Don’t ever think that. You’re doing what you have to” regarding the errands I was running. “But just remember this concert might be a game to you. But it’s life or death for these tribes these people This is a game to you. This advice is the world to them” and then Sherlock told me to do a deduction on 11 and I read the room.

I have fanart on my walls. In pop culture magick, fanart works as a vessel for the spirit. A home for them to reside in as a capsule. A fragment of time where they exist isolated, to reside in and can be revisited. It’s brilliant in it’s own sick twisted sort of way.

I am a dreamer. That’s what I am. I’ve been meeting with my x friends Snot and Kameron on the astral. I recruited them for “the game” the war to save the world, when I was alot younger. I have this delusion I am imortally 16. I say delusion but knowing me can you honestly tell? I have lived 23 years of life. When it comes to this journal and the contents inside it is a work of madness, I give no shits whether or not the contents held within it’s pages are remotely to be believed. This is what separated Olive Brimstone from Acrians Locket, or #### Sun, or other such aliases of mine.

I have several cut up and astounded reputations. I did rituals to make it that way. When I say the right name people fear me. Even gods. When I present the wrong name I get laughter. Laughter is literally one of my alises! Theirs a reason I’m seen as a fool. Hell in Vahall one of my names is “wannabe”.

So I just wanted to write that down. I guess I’m working on a question cosplay. After I get done with Bill Cipher. He wants me to tell you to…”buy gold?” he’s an odd ball. I have to go now.

Goodnight.

12:09 PM

4/25/2021

#pop culture magick #journal #the question #dc comics #doctor who #percy jackson #olive brimstone

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calliecat93 · 4 years ago

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Star Trek Episodes 60-63

Spectre of the Gun: So our heroes pissed off an alien force...again, and are punished by being put into the Wild West and taking up the roles of the OK Corral shooting. You know what? At this point after the gangaters, Nazi’s, and Roman gladiators I’m not even gonna question anything anymore. I gotta wonder of they did this episode just to prank Kelley since apparently he’d been in reenactments of the OK Corral during his Western carrer haha. Anyways, it was fine. I’m not really into Westerns, but I’ve seen enough from what my dad used to warch to know what to expect. Acrually it felt more like a deconstruction since those normally put the Wild West in a bit of a glorious light which is VERY much not the case here. Chekov was a freakin’ trip in this episode and it acrually got me when he got shot even though having seen The Motion Picture I knew he came back to life. There’s nothing too notable about the episode, but nothing wrong with it either and it was fun to see the cast in a Wild West setting. Just a nice watch all in all. 3.5/5.

Day of the Dove: Well points are already deducted for the blatant use of brownface. IDK if thus was dome with the Klingons before, but the obvious use here is especially bad both makeup wise and for other obvious reasons. Moving past that, the concept is a decent one. We know of the frictions already between our heroes and the war-seeking Klingons, so sticking them all in one setting and letting the tensions implode due to a third party is a decent idea. Infact, the third party is essentially acting as an influence, altering everyone’s state of mind into further hatred amd madness just to keep fueling that fire, even between their own allies. That’s always a fun concept, although that influence causing Chekov to nealry do... what he did to Mara was... distasteful even if he wasn’t in his right mind. Seeing our heroes, who certainly have their darker urges but normally keep it in check, becoming more hateful even towards each other is... really uncomfortable. I guess this was meant to be an episode against being overwhelemed by hatred, and it did so fine enough. Though the brownface DOES kind of cut into the message. Otherwise, perfectly good episode. I can’t give it a 5 because of the brownface and some fo Shatner’s oveacting as well as feeling we disn’t get a proper wrapup at th end, but I can still give it a decent rating. 4/5.

For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky: McCoy centric episode! Yay! So... our doctor has conducted a terminal illness that has no cure. IDK what xenopolythemia is, but regular polythemia is a blood cancer. I’ve both lost family to cancer and seen the general paint hat it and treatment does to them, so... yeah. Of course McCoy’s symptoms are just his body beind weak, which kinda sucks since there was a lot of potential here for an emotional story (though tbf it’s likely early symptoms since he was just diagnosed), especially since it’s the caregiver being sick and needing to be cared for. But they decided to use it to have him get with an alien prieestess because he doesn’t have even a year left to live.. which tbf given what I’ve read on his backstory since the show never got into it, it DOES make sense for him and I guess it was his turn after Kirk and Spcok’s flings with women (McCoy’s only other time was back in the start of S1), but still. It wasn’t done basly, I fully understood why he’d make that choice since if he’s gonna die in a year, he should be able to have it with someone who’d care for him and Natira genuinely does and he still made sure that Kirk and Spock would be able to get out safely. Kelley did a lovely job with his performance this episode and it made McCoy’s decisions and thoughts very clear, and me having looked up his backstory probably helped me feel for him more than I would have otherwise. And because of the episodic nature, we got an easy way out. I guess I’m just disappointed at the waste of potential, but the episode is overall fine. Standard at this point, but perfectly fine. It did a good job making McCoy feel weakened and Kirk and Spock’s concern for him was really sweet. Spock holding onto McCoy’s arm after beind told was genuinely touching. It was a nice episode and I enjoyed it especially since it focused on my favorite character, I just felt it could have done more and the thing that helped the episode feel stornger was essemtially supplementary meterial (albiet canon material) and is just an okay episode if one doesn’t know it. 3.5/5.

The Tholian Web: Our heroes find a starship where all the people have killed each other via mental delusion... man that happens a lot, huh? Yeah it feels a little too similar to Day of the Dove, which was just two episodes ago especially with Chekov being the first to lose it. We also have them losing Kirk... again, though they make the wise decided to keep his fate in the dark and this time it truly looks like this is it for him (it’s not, but still) as Spock tries to retrieve him despite putting the ship more at risk. Pretty illogical, huh? Haha! This was good because we get to see how the crew reacts with him gone,a nd then when declared dead, without the audience alreayd knowing that he’s fine, which helps us feel for them as we’re as uncertain as they are. The highlight here is Spck and McCoy as with Kirk deemed dead, the one that keeps them together and the mental influence isn’t helping especially on McCoy’s end. Spock is trying to get Kirk back while McCoy wants to get out due to the crew having psychotic episodes due to remaining. The two come into conflict as per usual but without Kirk there, that sense of compromise is gone. Then the two see the message that Kirk recorded specifically for them in the event of his death, telling them to trust and help each other and their reactions after it especially hit hard. It shows how much Kirk knows and trusts the two and he knows that they can go on without him... which given that it’s canon that he’s the first to die for real among them (sorta... and depressing since Shatner is the only one of the trio still alive... wow I made myself sad), is even more heartwarming in hindsight. It was a really good episode and the ending got a good giggle out of me. But it was good to see what happens when Kirk is out of the equation, and how Spock and McCoy can go forward and work together with mutual respect. Excellent episode! 5/5.

I thought about doing five today... but I just wasn’t feeling it. But after a mediocre start, we got a pretty good round of episodes this time. Not as good as S2 (aside from the last one, that one was fantastic), but perfectly fine. Will that continue? Fifteen more to go folks, we’ll find out soon enough.

#st watchthrough #star trek tos

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roseyful · 5 years ago

Text

In response to Kurt’s letter

hey, Peachy here, I’ve given myself 24 hours to think over the letter before I wrote this as I felt like there were some things that I knew would rub people up the wrong way when it comes to the letter, and that I was right. Some people have condemned netease for the subject matter that appeared in Kurt’s letter and frankly I have mixed feelings, but given that I come from a place on mental illness, I feel like it’s only right that I address it.

Given that this response tackles mental illness, controversial opinions and treatments and the church, I’ll put a read more on this, so be aware for those who read more that you might find the contents disturbing. I’ll be dissecting the letter as well to better explain the situation Kurt was put in.

TL;DR at the beginning

final word count: 1931 words (4 pages)

TL;DR: Kurt Frank possibly has had Delusional Schizophrenia from birth in which was worsened by being at war in which he developed ptsd/shell shock, was discharged due to injury that caused his face scar and then admitted into the asylum when his delusional schizophrenia became worse. Got out via escaping or the bishop letting him out despite the fact that he was a danger to himself due to his delusions. However he is not violent. Possibly also has Alice in Wonderland Syndrome.

before we even begin, I’ll provide a transcription of his letter so then you can skip the bits of the letter I’ll be writing about in the post

Dear esteemed Bishop Duke

The White Sand Street Asylum completed the reassessment of its patients last month, and we will begin the process of discharging healthy patients on the 15th of next month.

This particular letter is intended to discuss the conditions of patient no. 93 (assumed to be Kurt due to the points later made). It is with out deepest regret to inform you that the reassessment of patient no. 93 indicates that his Delustional Schizophrenia persists. He claims that he had flown solo across the English Channel, possesses extraordinary survivalist skills, and is capable of the construction of, including but not limited to, Blimps.

As you can see, despite your assurance of his well being, we are certain that his delusions will evolve in a scale of grandiose when exposed to outside influences. Patient no. 93 [Kurt] currently does not possess violent tendencies, yet with his deterioating mental health stability and elevating delusions, he may pose a threat to society through conspiracy with others. We are well aware that he had never and is incapable of operating a blimp across the uncharted jungles, but consider his eloquence in persuasion, the decision to discharge him from the asylum cannot be granted without serious considerations.

Please reconsider your decision with great importancne. May the Lord sanctify your spirits with his eternal light.

Your humble servant,

Lorraine Miller

With the information we gather on the letter, we can easily assume that Kurt was in possible contact with Emily (Doctor), Emma/Lisa (Gardener) and/or Robbie (Axe boy) prior to being discharged from the Asylum, formally known as the orphanage that Kreacher (the “Thief”) built by stealing money from the rich via exploiting the children, which happened prior to Emma arriving at the orphanage. Due to this we can assume that Kurt was possible around the same time as when the main 5′s storyline was happening, which puts the storyline between that of late 1920s to early 1940s.

The next bit may seem to be a bit fillery, but this is important to discuss what might happen.

Kurt seems to be interested in that of adventure and fantasy novels, so it’s not a shock that he took up the interest of that of an explorer, but however in his deductions it should be noted that he was in the war, as in “The Beginning of a Lie”, it directly references the barracks, a type of group of buildings used to house the military during the wars, though not directly referenced to which once I’m led to assume that he was involved in world war 1, in which the concept of war was not yet explored and where the term “Shell Shocked”, soon later known as Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was discovered. For the sake of accuracy to the time period, I’ll be referring to PTSD as shell shock, as it was the correct term back then before they learnt that similar symptoms could happen in cases of trauma outside of war.

Looking up propaganda posters of the time [especially in Britian] glorified war, said it was an adventure, an honour, etc. This would’ve enticed Kurt, made him join the army in search of adventure (take note this is where the idea of him operating blimps and flying across the english channel came from), in which turned him into a story teller in the gloom of war once the reality hit. However it’s assumed that Kurt sometime during this time got injured and discharged from the war. Shrapnel seems like an option that might’ve happened, as with his facial wound no bullet would’ve made that mark.

Now we’re onto the main parts of the letter; his stay at the Asylum. Given his first deduction [Treasure Hunt] in which he talks about a dragon's lair, its assumed that he was possibly suffering from Delusional Schizophrenia for his entire life, and after being exposed to the war, developing Shell Shock, his mental state would’ve grown worse, as its possible that with the reality of war in his mind, they would’ve bled into his delusions and caused for him to be admitted to the asylum for the sake of his own mental health as well as the fear and stigma around mental illness caused by the church around that time.

For clarification, around this time mental illness was still considered to be that from possession/the devil, which you can see dotted throughout the story such as Ann (the Disciple/herald) and the upcoming survivor, Andrew (Gravekeeper?), both of which have a heavy connection to the church and were mistreated due to the fact that they were either a. ill (Ann), or b. born with something that was considered to be abnormal (Andrew with his albinoism). However as the understanding of mental illness has grown, so has their opinions so please don’t bash the church based on this as well.

So back to the letter; I’ve seen some misconceptions about this part in particular:

Patient no. 93 [Kurt] currently does not possess violent tendencies, yet with his deterioating mental health stability and elevating delusions, he may pose a threat to society through conspiracy with others. We are well aware that he had never and is incapable of operating a blimp across the uncharted jungles, but consider his eloquence in persuasion, the decision to discharge him from the asylum cannot be granted without serious considerations.

This isn’t to say that they were making his mental illness seem scary or demonising it, no, as I’ve bolded, they were more concerned about his well being should he be let out of the asylum (in which it seems he was released by the bishop despite the warnings of what seemed to be the doctors and/or nuns, possibly both), as Delusional Schizophrenia does more than cause hallucinations relating to the senses, as demonstrated in the letter, Kurt has made himself a false life in which he seems to be rather that of grandeur and adventure. This is what you call Grandiose delusions, even stated in the letter segments below;

He claims that he had flown solo across the English Channel, possesses extraordinary survivalist skills, and is capable of the construction of, including but not limited to, Blimps. [...] As you can see, despite your assurance of his well being, we are certain that his delusions will evolve in a scale of grandiose [...] We are well aware that he had never and is incapable of operating a blimp across the uncharted jungles, but consider his eloquence in persuasion[...]

Please note that I’ve bolded “eloquence in persuasion” and a few other things twice, as this is a key point into why he was considered not to be released; he was considered a threat to mostly himself, but others as well. He wasn’t violent, but his delusions were enough to put him at serious threat should he attempt these activities, the delusions becoming so severe along with his mental state deteriorating meaning that he may try these things, he may put himself and others in danger, even to the point of death.

So why was he released?

This is hard to explain since we never have a reason, but it seems that Kurt had been able to lie throughout his time in the asylum and finally persuaded the bishop into letting him go; I avoid using the term tricked or fooled here since Kurt fully believed his own delusions and possibly thought that he was completely fine, after all he wasn’t really a threat to society on a physical level for most of the part, however, his vocal speech was considered to be the problem according to the writer of the letter, Lorraine Miller. To what conspiracy is left unknown, but it seems that Miller was concerned by it. However, this does raise another question:

Who is Lorraine Miller?

From the stance of which the letter was written, Lorraine Miller might’ve been someone who worked alongside Emily when she worked in the asylum, back when she was Lydia Jones, possibly a nurse, however with the fact she works with the mentally ill, she possibly was a Psychologist, someone who worked with trying to figure out what’s going on in the brain, as she isn’t self addressing herself as Sister Lorraine, something usually dedicated to that of a nun, which means that she knew what she was talking about when she was writing the letter to the bishop, as she possibly had been in frequent contact with Kurt.

Is this accurate? Possibly not, however this is just a theory into where the letter is seen through the lense of the viewer, if you have other theories about Lorraine Miller feel free to let me know in the comments of this post.

What else can be said about Kurt Frank?

When this discussion was brought up in a server, someone mentioned that Kurt may have something called Alice in Wonderland syndrome/Todd’s syndrome in which the perception of reality is altered in terms of things either being really small or really big, like Alice as she fluctuates between sizes during the story, or like the book he carries with him; Gulliver’s Travels, in which the perception of the people is altered.

This also relates back to his ability and his treasure hunting ability ingame; his ability to fluctuate between sizes allows him to see things from a different angle, as this is something that might allude to his perception being warped due to his Delusional Schizophrenia, however we are unsure if this is the case due to the odd happenings of the game and the fact that in the canon of the game we’re reading from the detective’s point of view, making it hard for us to be able to decern if what we’re seeing is fact or something the detective made up himself.

So what about the others that were in the asylum? Did he meet them?

Possibly not, as Emma and Robbie were children around the time Kurt possibly was there and Emily had her own clinic that she was running when she wasn’t at the Asylum

#original #identity v #identity v explorer #kurt frank #idv #this was a bitch to write #and edit #but refreshed my mind on the topic as well since I needed to recap it for a class

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bloodydavvn-blog · 7 years ago

Note

3, 14, 21, 28, 33, 41

3. How do they position themselves in a group? Dothey like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at theedges of a crowd?

Answered here.

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind ofloyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, orspirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed?

Rory cares deeply in general, to bequite honest. It’s not that she doesn’t have her own ideals, it’s that she’seffusively empathetic (and rather gullible) and she’d easily fall for prettywords and also embellish them with her own imagination so that everything is afairy tale in her head. I don’t mean this in the romantic sense – she is not aromantic at all – but she is highly idealistic and optimisticand truly believes anything can be improved upon if one really desires that.She sets her expectations quite high and suffers greatly from disappointmentwhen they’re trashed because the real world does not work like that. Shequickly gets taken in by ideas, and later on when they don’t fit the tall ordershe’s created for them in her head, she abandons them. It’s a relativelyfast process when viewed from the outside, she’s not the type to harbourgrudges, but no matter how quickly her hopes dissolve, it’s still bitterlydifficult. She wears her heart on her sleeve – if she feels something, shefeels it to the very core of her, even if it’s only for hours, or mereminutes.

Her loyalty to people is slightly morestable than her flitting about from fleeting idea to ephemeral hope. If sheloves someone (and to be loyal to them, to her, will primarily mean to lovethem) it is extremely difficult to break that bond. A person would have toconsistently be horrible to her, for an indeterminate period of time for her toeventually decide they’re not worth it. Once she’s hooked, she’s willing to putup with a tremendous amount of emotional strain and crushed hopes in them.However, once she’s decided she’s done, that’s it – it’s final, and she wouldturn from staunch defender to resentful enemy without qualm.

Her life philosophy, though on a rathershallow level, is: do no harm but take no shit. Because of who she is as aperson, the latter would invalidate the former, as she’s far more concernedwith it than being nice. She’s never violent without cause, however she is theone to decide what that cause is, and her bar is set quite low for it. She iseasily angered and impulsive and could be set off by anything froma misinterpreted comment to something that most other people wouldreasonably agree would warrant an explosive response.

Low-key, Rory grew up in a spiritualcommunity. It was also very small, and they had no delusions of grandeur, soher own faith is informed by that and is quite nonintrusive. She believes thatthe universe gives back what she puts in it, more or less. She has a vague ideaof a deity, but it’s not in the biblical sense of a punishing god. It’s more alaw of attraction – certain patterns of behaviour inspire certain responses inreturn. Penalty for wrongdoing is never guaranteed, but it does increase thechances of something unpleasant happening in retaliation; just as good deedsdon’t promise a positive response, but at least encourage the possibility ofone. Basically, she’s a mix of “what goes around, comes around” and “the worlddoesn’t owe you shit”. Quite a few of her guiding principles are vaguelycontradictory in nature, which is, ultimately, what makes her so adaptable.

21. What kind of relationships do they tend tointentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contactdo they prefer, and why?

FRIENDSHIPS!!! Friendships all around.But it’s also the sort of relationship she actually cultivates. She seeks whatshe’s willing to put effort into, and she isn’t concerned about things likestatus, so if she likes you, she won’t care who or what you are, more oftenthan not. She does have some built-in bias – it’s not very likely she’d try tobefriend an Upyr for example – but it wouldn’t be too hard for her toget over it if she deems the other person worthy of it.

Of late, she prefers to stick to her ownkind, because she still suffers from disillusionment in Sanctuary as a whole,but after she’s worked through her issues, she would return to being all bubblyand hopeful with anyone who crosses her path.

28. What are they likely to do if they have theopportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why?

This might be a bit sci-fi at themoment, given the logistical and natural impediments she has to overcome, butif there’s one thing to remember about Rory is that she has an adamantium gradestrength of will. To call her obstinate would be a gross understatement and nomatter how flighty she is in general, if she decides something is worth it, sheis like a dog with a bone. Before she was turned, she was well on the way of becomingher tribe’s healer. Even as a human, Rory was not squeamish. She demonstrated anatural aptitude towards healing from a young age, easily remembering plantsand their uses, and despite her general whimsical personality, her approach tofixing all the ways a body could break was pragmatic and practical. Consideringthat quite a lot of the world’s medical knowledge was lost with the wipeout ofmost of the human population, she revealed an almost intuitive understanding ofhow infections bloom and fester, and how everything may be bound together inorder to function. She appreciates the importance of cleanliness when treating openwounds, and knows how to set a broken bone back in its place, and how to soothea fever.

Vampires don’t have much use for healersand in the past five years or so she has not been given much of a chance to plyher skills, but with her newfound access to old knowledge, she wants tocontinue studying and improving her knowledge on the matter. Given enough time,and enough stability, she dreams of reviving the modern concept of hospitals inall permanent human settlements that the founding of Sanctuary will inspire.She wants to work in an environment that would enable her to return to heroriginal life choices (mainly because she refuses to be told what she can andcannot do). The fact that this will prove to all naysayers that vampires aremuch more than savage, blood-hungry beasts is most certainly a bonus, ofcourse.

33. How dothey learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-onlearning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observationor rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns andorganization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creativeprocessing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things?

It’s a mix of research, reading andhands-on trial and error. Rory likes to learn new things, she prefers to do soby interacting with another person and have them tell her about it, but if thetopic really interests her, then she will start looking up things on it on herown. She’s not organized enough to take notes, or memorize by rote. She readssomething, remembers things from it and the rest of it is cemented bypracticing what she’s learned from manuals. She relies a lot on her intuitionand does have a tendency to jump to conclusions but she will correct herself ifshe’s shown she is wrong (she just has to agree that this is the case). Shedoes tend to learn faster by taking things apart and having to put them backtogether again, but she would have to be interested in how they work in thefirst place. Mechanical objects might grab her attention for a while, but shedoesn’t find them particularly fascinating in the long run. She might amuseherself with simpler mechanisms, but she wouldn’t really wish to study anythingoverly complex.

She’s the type of person who knows alittle about a lot, when it comes to general knowledge. In terms of acquiringpractical skills she is a fast learner. By this, it doesn’t mean she reachesutmost artistry, but she does become capable. She’s naturally dexterous and theheightened vampire senses help in this regard, as well.

41. Whatassociations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors ormotifs? Why?

The idea forRory (in her most primitive form, when she wasn’t so much a character, morelike a question mark in my head) came from a Catherynne Valente quote “I do so love my witches and wicked queens. Ifind myself drawn to feminine archetypes that previous generations have foundthreatening or dangerous: crones, oracles, madwomen, Amazons, VIRGINS WHOAREN’T HELPLESS, bad mothers. I love togive the vagina dentata voice. It so rarely gets to speak for itself.” (theemphasis being the seed that eventually grew into her).

She isinspired by children’s stories, but the old-fashioned kind, those in which thewitch is killed by being forced to dance on coals, and where the disobedientchild dies at the end, the cautionary tales of old, rather than the cleaned-upversion of Disney. She’s not the princess trapped in a tower, she’s the one whoeither befriends the dragon, or slays it – she’s someone who can do both, if she feels she has to.

LISTEN I couldprobably write about the myriad of inspirations I have for her until my fingersfall off and still miss LOTS of things – so here’s her pinterest board: quotes,images, metaphors, edits etc.

#ailes-de-fleurs #{I want more landmarks less landmines} development

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possiblyimbiassed · 7 years ago

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Chess against Death -

Can Samarra be avoided?

I was just reading an excellent meta by @ebaeschnbliah, when something occurred to me like an epiphany. Maybe this has already been discussed in fandom, but since I haven’t seen it yet, here it goes.

@ebaeschnbliah‘s meta is about how Sherlock is confronted with death and dying throughout the show, and also how this is related to the promo pictures for S4, where Sherlock is playing a game of chess with Mycroft, while John is watching. They seem to be allegorically playing The Game, which is definitely a recurring theme in Sherlock.

And if Mycroft represents Sherlock’s own brain, he’s probably playing with himself (his worst enemy, according to Mycroft in TAB).

At the end of the meta, @ebaeschnbliah questions whether the game is still on, because on one of the promo pictures, Sherlock throws the chess pieces through the air. Wouldn’t that end the Game?

Actually, now I believe it doesn’t – the game is still on! Because I have a feeling this whole chess theme might actually be inspired by an old movie about a man who plays chess with Death, an ‘epic historical fantasy film’ from 1957 called The Seventh Seal.

More under the cut.

The Seventh Seal is written by Swedish director Ingemar Bergman, (more about the film here).

It’s rather ‘dark’ and, like many other of Bergman’s productions, brings up existential issues. It takes place in the 14th century, when the great plague known as the Black Death is wreaking havoc, killing 30–60% of Europe's total population. The main character, Antonius Block, is a knight who returns from the crusades together with his squire, only to find his country infected by the disease and the religious fanaticism and panic that follows in its wake.

Death is waiting for Block, but he manages to bargain by telling Death that he’s not ready yet, he wants time to use for one single meaningful act before he dies. And in the mean time Block challenges Death to play a game of chess. As long as he can resist in the game, Block gets to live, and if he wins, he and his family walk free from Death. But if he looses, Death can take him right away. Death consents, and they start to play.

This chess-against-death theme is rather pervasive in BBC Sherlock I think; as @ebaeschnbliah points out, the show begins (ASiP) with Sherlock playing a game of life and death with a serial killer, a murdering cab driver, who refers to a game with poison pills as chess:

And maybe it’s significant that the cab driver’s last name is Hope, because the chess game gives an illusion of hope for the victim; if Sherlock wins (supposedly by making the right choice), the killer gets the bad pill and dies, and Sherlock walks free - just like Block the knight in The Seventh Seal.

In this trailer (almost 10 minutes long; source or the screencaps) you can get a good idea of what The Seventh Seal is about.

Block the knight says he wants to know things before he dies.

He has lost his faith because of what he’s seen in the world, and he wants knowledge instead.

Like Block, Sherlock can’t resist the temptation to play the deadly game, because he wants to know. He thinks he needs to know how Jeff Hope thinks and the reason why, so he questions him and makes a series of deductions:

And after his deductions Sherlock comes to the conclusion that “love is a vicious motivator”.

But ‘the game’ is mentioned repeatedly all throughout the series, and it’s clear that Sherlock is given a respite from death, just like Block in The Seventh Seal. Apart from John saving Sherlock from the Bad Pill by killing Jeff Hope, @ebaeschnbliah points out several other occasions in their meta, like this one in TGG/ASiB:

T6T also repeats the chess game of death in depicting the British Ambassador playing chess with her husband, while they are held as hostages in their Embassy in Tblisi, Georgia, during a terrorist attack. The death threat while playing chess is very tangible in this scene, where one terrorist is pointing his gun at the couple:

Madame Ambassador is extremely bored (like Sherlock) after three months. But she says she’s got a secret weapon if only they can get out of the siege situation; Amo - which means Love, codename for Lady Smallwood.

(Since I believe this is all happening inside Sherlock’s mind, and Madame Ambassador is a mirror for Sherlock, the subtextual meaning of this could be that Love is a secret weapon Sherlock can use against his enemies, but he needs to get out (=wake up from coma) first. But I admit I don’t really 'get’ what Amo is supposed to mean on a textual level).

Sadly, we know what happens next; the diplomatic couple gets killed under a counterattack from the AGRA agents, because they were betrayed by one of their own. So Death won their game, so to speak.

Yet another version of the same theme, also in T6T, is the story of Death in Samarra that Sherlock tells, which I believe is pretty much in line with the story in The Seventh Seal:

“There was once a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise. And he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for there he was sure Death could not find him. But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. ‘Very well,’ said the merchant. ‘I give in. I am yours. But tell me: why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?’ ‘Because,’ said Death, ‘I had an appointment with you tonight – in Samarra.’”

At the end of T6T, when Sherlock thinks he has lost John’s friendship because ‘Mary’ (supposedly) took a bullet for him – making him escape death again - he reflects over whether he can escape Death at all:

But here’s the thing: according to Mycroft in TST, Sherlock invented his own version of this tale when he was a kid; he told himself a better story; ‘Appointment in Sumatra’. The merchant goes to a different city and is perfectly fine.

I believe this has to do with Sherlock ‘s childhood trauma; in T6T he also tells Karim in Morocco that he’s not familiar with the concept ‘happy family’. Something must have happened in his family past that has bearing on Samarra/Sumatra. So maybe what Sherlock can try to do is go back to his childhood, emulate his childhood ‘pirate’ self, and totally avoid the place where Death awaits him. I get a feeling that’s actually what he did in TFP, but I don’t think the mystery is completely solved just yet, even if he did solve the Musgrave ritual. Exactly how he is going to do it, I don’t know. But I do believe it will have to do with Amo – perhaps a love that isn’t betrayed this time.

In The Seventh Seal, Block confesses to a (supposed) priest, that he feels alienated towards other people, which I think is very much a resemblance to Sherlock’s problems with repressed feelings and lack of expressed compassion:

And Block feels trapped inside himself, which I also believe relates directly to Sherlock being trapped in his own mind palace in S4, with ghosts as his only company:

He also tells the priest how he intends to outsmart Death in the chess game. But since the priest is actually Death, he now gets to know Block’s tactics.

And maybe this is the key; Sherlock can’t outsmart death, trapped inside his own brain. It doesn’t matter how smart he is, this is about emotions, and he must wake up and come out to the real world and get in contact with ‘some people on the ground’.

Block and his squire get to know a family of jesters with their little child, and this family stands out to them with their kind and uncomplicated ways and very moving love for each other. Block wants to save this little family as his last meaningful act before he dies. But the Black Death is hunting people down everywhere, and since Block is now loosing his chess game, the prospects look bad for all his companions, including the jester family that travels with them.

At the end of the movie, the knight’s time is almost up. But then Block plays a last, desperate trick to distract death; he knocks the pieces over to buy time. And while this is happening, the jester family manages to escape.

Which very much resembles what happens in this promo picture, doesn’t it?

In The Seventh Seal Death simply puts the pieces back in place again on the chess board, and finally wins over Block. Which doesn’t matter much to him, since he already has managed to do his single, meaningful act before he dies; saving a whole family.

But this is precisely what I don’t think will happen in Sherlock. Because Sherlock already tried this in TRF (‘committing suicide’ with the delusion that this would protect John), and it didn’t work; it nearly destroyed John and ultimately made Sherlock lose him. And on John’s blog (which I believe better reflects ‘reality’ than the TV show) it says #sherlocklives means #johnwatsonlives. Which means that Sherlock’s only way to save John Watson is by staying alive. I do think that Sherlock is nearly dying in S4, and The Final Problem is about staying alive. Which I think he has managed this far, but if Sherlock is playing chess against his own brain (=Mycroft) with his heart looking on (=John), he can’t outsmart his own brain. And at the end of HLV Sherlock says to John “the game is never over”.

So maybe Sherlock has to continue playing ‘the game’ also into S5. Fortunately, in Chess there’s something called a draw, which might be the solution here; a tie, a truce, an agreement between Sherlock’s heart and brain, with mutual respect preserved. And maybe Sherlock has managed to buy some time by knocking over the pieces, so no-one has to die, ‘everybody lives!’ (as the Doctor would say in DW ;) )

Block says in The Sevent Seal that he knows that Death plays chess because he has seen it in paintings. Here’s the medieval church painting (15th century, by Albertus Pictor) that allegedly inspired Bergman to film this theme:

Which means that the theme with Death playing chess is actually quite old.

Here is also an interview with Bergman about The Seventh Seal. Particularly interesting, in my opinion, is the part at about 7 minutes into the interview, where Bergman is talking about film ’reality’ and the audience believing in it. According to this other guy in the video clip, Bergman got the question: “What is he trying to do when he makes a film?” And Bergman answered: “Well, I’m not trying to make it real, I’m trying to make it alive”. I have a distinct feeling that the same goes for Mofftiss.

Source of chess promo pictures (X)

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @sagestreet @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @raggedyblue @88thparallel @darlingtonsubstitution @tjlcisthenewsexy @sherlockshadow @consultingidiots @monikakrasnorada @loveismyrevolution @sectoralheterochromiairidum

#Chess against death #Can Samarra be avoided?#the seventh seal #sherlock meta #john=sherlock's heart #mycroft=sherlock's brain

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harrish6 · 7 years ago

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Miscalculated Destiny - Chapter 1 - Everything Is Going To Be Fine Now

This has been on my mind for a while now, ever since I made all these different versions of Error. I finally got around to doing it! Down below are the names/nicknames I made up to use in this story for my versions of all my Errors. There is a Error in the new Multiverse as well, so none of them can go by Error. They also made up ages for themselves because they had to, because of the Codes and everything, so that's down below too. Please remember that they are in fact these ages for real - all of them are MUCH older. The only thing they kept the same is who is older to youngest, just changed up the numbers to their age. It doesn't matter to them anyway, they lost count of their real age a long time ago.

Erratum, 25, tallest out of them all = Healing What Has Been Broken Error

Flaw, 23, a few inches shorter then Erratum = String Stitches Error

Static, 21, same height as Flaw give or take a few centimeters = Blue Strings Of Mercy Error

Delusion, 19, half-a-head shorter then Static and Flaw = Become Mine And Mine Alone Error

Glitchy, 14, comes up to Erratum's hips to lower stomach = Twisted Error

They are going by brothers. Last name, Miscalculation. They made up these ages so that it is realistic as well. If they were all a year apart, it could look suspicious.

Static wanted to be the middle child, wanting to be ignored so that he could sleep - he thought the middle child stereotype was real. While it may be real in some families, not in this one. His plan has backfired on him, as they all pay attention to him just as he does with him. No one is ignored, not anymore like in their old Multiverses. Less sleep, but more love for him. He's fine with the trade off.

They decided to make Glitchy 14 in the Codes so that he can get away with more and because he is so young mentally. He also can get away with saying he is this young unlike the others. While he may never act or be like a adult mentally, they don't want to make him adult right away as they can see that going bad fast and in a hurry. They are home-schooling him though, to be safer rather then sorry. If anyone tried to bully him in school, there wouldn't be a school left. Might as well not chance anything.

Erratum has custody of them all, and they all made up a past that will be further explained as the story goes on. They made sure to cover their tracks.

Magic exists, but there are laws in place so that no one can pull out a gaster blaster and start firing for giggles.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND A WONDERFUL NEW YEARS~!

-Start Chapter-

-He fell. Fell and fell until there was nothing left to fall through. Willingly gave himself up his SOUL and body to the unknown. They didn't want him? Fine, he would give them what they wanted. Let them reap what they had sowed. He fell because it was the last, the only option that would work in getting what he wanted. The darkness and hungry abyss ate him until there was nothing left. Tore him apart and scattered him across time and space. He could still hear the static all around him, regretful screams as he was eaten alive. Then, there was nothing left of him. Finally, he had did it. He had finally died. No more pain, no more balance. He was finally free.

So why was he waking up, whole and alive, when he had been shattered across time and space, eaten alive and supposed to be very dead?-

"thIS sHOUld BE iT..." Erratum grumbled lowly, screwing in the last screw. Getting up and backing away, Erratum looked at the bed frame. It was a simple black metal bed frame made for a king sized bed. The bed right behind him. His bed frame, whole bed set-up really, was the last one he had to make, the others were putting together their rooms now.

It had only been a month since they had fallen into this weird Multiverse. It had taken time to gather enough money to get the townhouse they - more like Erratum himself, as it was in his name - now owned. This Multiverse had magic much like their own but different. Teleportation and portals were harder to do if they didn't aim the portal to someone they know, and even then it is tricky. They all could do it, but only because of their high magic levels, but smaller portals were easier to hold and keep up. Only time will see if everything goes back to normal on that angle, at least they had their strength and the rest of their magic was alright.

So to make money, at first they pick-pocketed and used very small portals through walls to steal what they had to. Eventually they came up with enough to buy a very cheap house with money left over to furnish the thing, and found other ways to get things they needed. Some things they needed to buy for the house, to give themselves a paper trail, which they bought online and used to save money as they were cheaper when used and way cheaper then store brands, the rest they formed with their strings and stole what they could.

Three decent sized rooms, a kitchen, one full bath, one half bath, living room, finished basement and small attic that could be used for storage. The only reason it was so cheap was because of all the deaths and suicides that had happened in the house. Apparently all those deaths were deductible to the price of the house, and no one wanted a house that held so many deaths and even killings. But Erratum wasn't going to complain. It was honestly like stealing the house it was so cheap. To make more money, Erratum had set up a online store to see clothing and other items that he and Flaw will make. Delusion could still knit as well, none of them needed their eyes to knit with their strings and form something from that. He was also was in the middle of making a book - one about his life before and the worlds, universes, and AU's he has seen. He also will be searching for a more stable job just in case.

All of it was worth it though. All the trouble and work was more then worth it.

His family - Family! Something only in his dreams, now in reality. - now had a roof over their heads and beds under them to lay down their weary bodies.

Flaw, almost as broken as him yet not there, and will never be if Erratum has anything to say about it. Flaw trusted in ways Erratum can't anymore, had hope in him that Erratum had lost a long time ago, only to feel it once more after finding a family. Oh, Flaw was much like him, in that he wasn't all that right in the head and was possessive to a fault, it was a given in the end though. Both of them have lived long lives, Erratum the longest and Flaw the second longest from what they could tell. Him and Flaw shared many similarities, the most out of all the brothers yet the differences were there for all to see. Flaw was much like a parent in a way, lecturing and placing rules in place so that no one was hurt, but he was much like a child as well. Flaw had more positives in him then Erratum ever had in himself. Erratum wanted to protect that, making sure that while Flaw is like him, will never become him.

Static, the lazy ass that reminded him so much of Undertale Sans yet still had so much of them in him - Erratum can see it in his eyes. His lazy smile was deceptive, his eyes told of the destruction he could and would commit, even if he doesn't understand why. Static had never destroyed a AU or anything like that, didn't even know he was a God until they told him, but he had the potential to destroy universes without lifting a finger. Half-lidded eyes hide the gleam and glint of destruction in them, the power in them, making him seem so lazy and harmless in ways that Erratum can not. Hard to believe that Static could turn into a berserker at the drop of a hat if something of his was threatened. Static was much like his new name; static could be almost numb sounding, low, low and background noise that made one feel apathetic at times, but that could change in a second, static soon becoming loud and over taking everything in it's way, the sound getting louder and louder as the numbness goes away, leaving only pain. Erratum wanted to make sure that Static could stay scar free and free in general as can be unlike him no matter how much potential the other holds.

Delusion was in ways worse off then Erratum, yet not. Broken, fragile and blinded were things Erratum had been before. But Delusion was not healing as fast as Erratum could. Erratum thought that it might be because he is older and has more magic, but that doesn't change anything. While able to heal most of the bones with their strings, Delusion's blindness stayed, most likely staying for years to come if not forever. Delusion was so quiet and gentle, hesitant now because of everything that had happened before he had found them. Delicate in ways that Erratum could never be, yet still held the destruction and violence in him like the others. Delusion was much like the calm before the storm, or the eye of the storm. Violence and destruction hidden in him and all around him behind a delicate face. Erratum wanted to make sure nothing could touch him like that anymore, for him to smile more freely and laugh loudly.

Glitchy was something that Erratum has never seen before in his life or thought possible, and as Erratum can't die and has lived more years then he can count, that's saying a lot. It was like the smallest one didn't have a mean bone in his body, but Erratum could feel the destruction all around Glitchy. It was odd to think that he could have been Glitchy, it was impossible in his eyes. Glitchy was innocent in ways that none of the others can be, not even Static. While Static doesn't remember a lot and had spotty memories at best, Glitchy knew nothing. Static knew what a cherry looked like, but no idea what it was, while Glitchy on the other hand doesn't know anything about a cherry; not how it looks or what it was. Hell, he didn't even know what it was called until they told him it was a cherry. The Anti-VOID messed with him in ways that were for life, much like the rest. At least with Static, he was too lazy to go and see what something was if he didn't know it. Glitchy on the other hand was too curious for his own good, running off if anyone didn't watch him enough to see whatever caught his eye. Erratum wanted to protect Glitchy's innocence, the way he smiled so freely and lovingly, looking at everything in child-like wonder.

The Anti-VOID, Fate and Ink messed with them all so much, just in different ways. Flaw was much like Erratum, paranoid and broken in ways that lead to many mental and emotional issues. Static was apathetic at best, not understanding a lot and lashing out when feeling extreme emotions like anger. Delusion was broken in mind and body, blinded forever as he swims in doubt and depression. Glitchy had his memories taken, mind having to regress back into a child's just to make sure he could live with it all, and was now having to relearn everything and anything once more only with little chance of ever being adult in mind.

They were all broken; In body, mind, SOUL and emotions. But despite all that....

They were his family.

Erratum Miscalculation would willing give up his own SOUL for what was his despite all the trouble that might come.

-He stumbled. Stumbled and limped to the portal that would lead him to his endless prison. He had no where else to go to, everyone else hated him too much to even think of saying hello much less open their doors to him. His invisible shackles rattled as he went through the portal, blood pouring off his skull and dust falling off him. He knew that it would only be the Voices to greet him. They would snark, laugh and scream at him when he will stumble and go down on the other side, that much he is for sure of. There is no kindness waiting for him on the other side, yet he must go anyway because Fate has deemed it so.

The portal was suppose to go back to his prison, he stumbled into his torture willing once more because he had no choice as it was his fate no matter how much he hated it, so where was he and why were hands catching him before he hit the ground?-

"onE mORE StITCh..." Flaw mumbled under his breath, brows frowned as he moved his strings about to form a new dress. With the final stitch and a bit of magic, the dress that used to be made up of blue strings was now a plan long sleeved dark blue dress with a long flowing skirt.

Sighing with a slight smile, Flaw glanced around him. The basement had been turned into a work room, or was in the process of being turned into one. He was sitting at a work table that had many different threads and strings in many different colors placed on top, made out of Flaw's magic and strings. There wasn't much in the basement now - only two tables, a few chairs, a cheap computer and magic made couch that Erratum had made. The couch was a rainbow of colors, blue stitching all over it. Erratum had made is colorful for Glitchy, as the rest of basement didn't hold many colors yet. - Even if the basement was now the main work room, Flaw knew that Erratum's room was going to be over filled with paperwork and work in general, and he was grateful for the space to just sew or work.

It was weird to him, but not something entirely different. He was used to watching the Charas and Nightmare's gang from his own Multiverse. They weren't friends, but they were his. He watched over them, scolded them when needed, taught them how to survive and live, and listened to them when he could and they needed him. Here though, Erratum was the one manly in charge of watching them all, although they all look after one another. Erratum, the one who looked so much like him, but with even more scars and marks on his bones - telling Flaw that he has lived longer then any of them and payed the price of living that long. Flaw also now knew what it was like now to have his head patted...

It was a nice feeling.

Family was a nice feeling.

And now he had a family, in a unknown Multiverse that was messing with their magic slightly. Money was hard to come by as they had to be careful with stealing. Flaw knew that if it wasn't for the fact that Erratum couldn't die, he would work himself in a early grave for them all. Flaw could see it in his eyes as he looked online and in the newspapers - that they stole - for jobs for himself. Erratum never once mentioned any of them getting jobs, he was looking only for himself form what Flaw could tell.

But then again, they all would do that for one another. They had something never thought possible now. Dreams and wishes were coming true for them. So Flaw would do most of the sewing for everyone, for them to wear and to sell. It was the least he could do - and he still wanted to do so much more for them all. But, like said before, they would all do it and they all feel like that. Even Static, that lazy ass yet somehow still efficient despite it all, would do the same for them all.

So many things have changed within the past week alone, and more changes to come.

Reaching over the table where he sat at, Flaw grabbed some grey strings that he had formed with his strings a while ago. He needed to embroidered the dress. Even though Delusion couldn't see it, he wanted his little brother to look the best and feel like it to. All his little brothers in fact. He would have to make something for Glitchy next, the more color the better for him. Then after that, Static and Erratum. Despite who opposite the two were, they sheared the love for comfortable clothing and didn't care what they looked like in the end. So Flaw would make Erratum's more professional looking while Static's would be more on the lines of street-clothing. Then after all that, he would work on things for the online shop to sell.

So many things to do, so many changes now.

But, while so many things are different now, the basics will never change.

Flaw Miscalculation would do anything for his.

-He was sleeping. That was all he wanted to do. Craved it even. While he usually gave no fucks and zero shits, he loved sleeping as if it was a lover. Doing nothing was the best way to spend time, he knew that much. Relaxing and listening to the Voices, talking back and laughing at their embarrassment, was the best way to pass the time he didn't sleep for. The white held no meaning of time, meaning he could spend years sleeping. The white room really was the best. So what if he didn't understand, know or feel a lot? It makes it easier to sleep or nap the day away. Stress caused sleepwalking anyway, he didn't want that. Walking was a pain.

So, why did he apparently sleepwalk somewhere he has never been before - it wasn't his numbing white, no lovely Voices calling to him with their harsh adoration as he woke up, only glitched voices that sounded much like his own yet different called out to him - if he has no stress, no cares, at all?-

"mAN...i woULd hAVE goTTeN a BED soOneR iF i KNEw tHEY coULD BE thIS soFT." Static sighed aloud, sinking into the huge rainbow covered bed. It was a mash of colors and themes. The sheets were just straight up rainbow, one blanket on it was blue with a rainbow of stars on it, the top blanket was red with techno colored hearts on it. The pillows were soft and in all shapes and colors. A few small hear shaped pillows, lined with frills, and stars as well. Two big pillows on each side of the bed, the one under Static's head was a simple light blue with white clouds. The other one on the right side of the bed was a pitch patched pillow, with all kinds of shapes and all kinds of colors in all shades. And that's not even counting the bedpost and headboard, which were rainbows. The headboard a literally sparkly - it had glitter on it, which Static is proud to say he himself put it on for Glitchy. See, he's not that lazy...for those that matter anyway. - curved rainbow.

Really, the bed should be a eye sore, but Static didn't care. Glitchy loved it and it was cheap even with it's huge size and colors, making Erratum happy. That's all that mattered to him in the end.

When they had bought the house, it had taken some time to decide how the rooms where to be split up and who had to share with who. Delusion and Glitchy could not sleep alone - Delusion with his night terrors and Glitchy with having monophobia - and those two and Static were the only ones who slept. Delusion while much like Erratum and Flaw, who did not need sleep at all, needed to sleep to get his strength back and for his magic to settle after using it so much to 'see' and feeling around to get around. The basement was to be a work room, that way it was easier for them all, so the three rooms were all they had. Erratum had offered to just not have a room, but all the others would not hear or let that happen.

In fact, after Erratum offered that, and looked ready to fight so that the others could each get a room with only needing to share one room where he got none, they promptly decided that Erratum would be the one to get the Master bedroom all to himself, preceding to talk over his denial over this new fact. Static was actually the one to start the whole thing. Erratum really was too selfless in his mind, if his new big brother can not be selfish, then Static will do it for him.

So, after some talking it out - Static didn't really care as long as Erratum got a room to himself, like the rest beside Erratum were. Erratum still tried to make them take the room and him get none, before giving up and slyly making, buying with what extra money they had and giving them the more expensive things for their own rooms and none for him. That sneaky bastard, Static was honestly impressed the older did that all without them noticing and getting away with it. Erratum had smugly smirked at them all, going deaf to all their protests and any items that had tried to sneakily put into Erratum's room had mysteriously ended up back in their rooms. Static then understood, oldest big brother saw all and knew all. Delusion and Glitchy just didn't want to be alone in any case. And Flaw just wanted them all to be happy and make a choice that would fit them the best in the long run. - they decided that he and Glitchy would share a room together, while Flaw and Delusion shared the other across the hall. The rooms were on the top floor, with the Master bedroom being at the very end of the hall while the others were on the side. A full bathroom was just tucked into a corner as well.

Flaw and Delusion were put together for the simple reason of Flaw not needing sleep. This way Flaw could help Delusion if need be in the night, helping the other get dressed or to get anywhere if the other needed help at night, and in case Delusion accidentally lashes out in fear. Flaw would be able to take it better then the others, and be able to calm down Delusion by using his negativity and destructive aura and presence on the other. While he and Glitchy apparently - and wasn't that a kicker to him, he was apparently a god of all things! Although, now a lot of things that Voices said made a whole lot of sense now... - had the same, they just couldn't make it come out with a snap of their fingers like the other three can.

It...was weird. It made him feel weird, like he wanted to break something, thinking about all the pain the other three went through. He didn't understand why, but it made his eye sockets open fully and smile become sharp. He could smell copper and could hear something shattering in his mind. He wanted to make those things happen.

Personal desires aside, Glitchy and him were paired up for the more simplest of reasons; Static gave no shits. Oh, he cared about Glitchy, but what he meant was that he didn't care what the room would look like in the end. Delusion or the others wouldn't have cared, but someone needed to be awake and watch Delusion throughout the night, helping him get dressed for the morning and bed, also to help him get up and down the stares and learn the layout of the house. Glitchy might have nightmares, but they are in no way as bad as Delusion's night terrors. Glitchy would also need help getting dressed as well, but not as much as Delusion would need. Delusion felt the clothing, the designs on them, to see if he liked it and wanted to wear it. Glitchy looked at the colors and picked as many colorful clothing to put on, accessories included. Static could handle all that, keep the youngest entertained and have a lazy eye on him.

The room itself was still kind of bare, which Static kind of liked. But he knew that Glitchy would fill it up sooner rather then later. There were already plans of painting the room, so the walls were no longer white, and there were already some of Glitchy's drawings hanged up on the walls. And while Static loved the whiteness, Glitchy hated and feared it. Leukophobia could be a bitch, he never wanted to see fear on Glitchy's face.

But that didn't matter to him, Glitchy's smiling face was better then any color or shade. White may be his favorite color, but colors compare to the sheer feel of Glitchy's beaming happy face.

It was weird...

Erratum's soft eyes and tired grin always made him stand straighter with a real smile when they looked down at him as Erratum patted his head softly. Flaw's stern face with hidden laughter in his eyes while he scolded him for something made him slouch down yet at the same time made him smirk back. Delusion's small fragile smile when one of the others complimented him on his food, no matter how it looked or tasted, was enough to make Static eat the whole pot and sing praises to Delusion, meaning every single one. Glitchy's beaming face and ever lasting curiosity made Static want to move, be active, just to keep a eye on the other and be ready with a smile when the other looked up at him with that big smile.

Every single one of them made Static feel something. His SOUL doing things it never had before.

Static Miscalculation might not be as apathetic as he thought, when his are concerned, and he's okay with that.

-He hurt. Pain over took everything as darkness swallowed him whole and took away his sight. Bones shattered like SOULS, eyes no longer visible as the warning signs took over them. He begged for it all to stop, for MERCY, yet none was given by the one said to be the most Merciful of all the Monsters. In panic, he made his escape through the portal. No where in mind, just to get away, to make the pain stop! The harsh Creator had proved his point, there was no need for more pain and harsh words. He knew that no one would ever be there for him, to hold him tight and never let go. This much was a fact that even he knew, it was carved into his bones, into his very SOUL.

So why were hands catching him before he hit the ground, how was it possible for destruction much like his own to take away the pain as it surrounded him, taking over all the pain, for destruction much like his own to show him such MERCY?-

"maYbE i SHoULd mAKE soUP?" Delusion hummed to himself, holding a can of soup and running a finger on the bumpy label as to read what it was.

Erratum had bought a braille labeler of all things after asking him if he knew how to read braille. Delusion had admitted to knowing. After all, unlike the two eldest, no one but the Creator and Fate knew about him. He needed something to do, so he stole a lot of things to read and do for what little down time he had. Learning braille was just one of them. Lucky for him, Erratum and Flaw knew how to read it to, and set out to labeling the whole house for him.

From what he could tell, and from what Flaw had explained to him as he lead him around the then empty house, it wasn't a big house, but it would do. The door lead into a entryway, the stairs right up against the wall with a door that lead into the basement right under it. To the other side was the living room that was connected to the kitchen with only a counter separating them along with some space. It was a open space, something Delusion was grateful for. Now he had only learn the layout when they get all the furniture, that way he didn't need one of them to lead him around all the time.

The cabinets in the kitchen were labeled with what was going to go in there and what was already in there. There was a 'soup' cabinet for example. Even then, Erratum went the extra mile and labeled the can themselves for him, even if it was a one time use. It was going to take time to relearn everything, but at least he had the others to help him out.

Yet, at the same time, Delusion wanted to help them.

So, he went out of his way to learn how to cook and clean. He wanted to take care of them, like how they were taking care of him. Getting some braille cookbooks from the local library was a simple thing, the librarian was even nice enough to give him a couple of older braille books to keep. Even with the cookbooks, Delusion still face a big problem in his way, the actual cooking part.

Using his magic, he could sense other people and Monsters easily. He couldn't see them really, but he could make out their shape and even feelings if he took enough time and magic. But items were a different matter, they were not alive and held no magic in them. He could flare out or pulse his magic to get a idea of the layout around him, or pules it in front of him to 'see' what was in front of him, but others would be able to feel him do so. It was fine to do it in the house, but outside? Too many people may ask too many questions then. None of them knew the laws and rules to this city yet, better safe then sorry for right now. So, Delusion came up with another way to learn how to cook, by using his strings.

Since his strings were magical, it would make sure he wasn't harmed nor was the items. If he put his strings in a boiling pot of water, his strings would send him information on how hot it was and how everything else was in it. He could move things around with his strings, feel around to make sure everything is okay or what was in front of him. It was much like feelers or those tiny hairs on a spider, the strings sent information to Delusion when he used them or flared out his magic. But it could get tiring at times to do so, so he had to be careful when he did it.

But he wouldn't mind doing it all, figuring everything out, and all the pain that comes with it.

He could still hear Glitchy excitedly telling him that he bought a bunch of pretty ribbons for 'his prettiest big brother!' so that he could wrap them over his damaged eyes instead of using bandages or sunglasses. He could still feel Static wrapping one around his skull and over his eyes, tying it into a bow because Static felt that it fit better. He could still hear Flaw explain what kind of dresses and other clothing he made for him, letting him feel the fabrics as he talked about them all. He could still feel Erratum's destructive power and force all around him, calming him with his negativity and power.

They did so much for him, are doing so much for him. They didn't have to. They could have left him and not looked back, yet they didn't. They loved him and claimed him as one of their own. Delusion now belonged to a family, something he had only daydreamed about. It wasn't so shocking then, was it?

Delusion Miscalculation wanted to do so much for his, even without his sight.

-He could only see white. The white surrounded him, screams never ending always there to tell him how worthless he was. He didn't understand! His memories were filled with nothing but the white and screams, him knowing nothing else. The Voices screamed and told him things, leaving him scared and fearful. They made him hurt, made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. Sob out all the hurt and pain, but that would only make the Voices laugh at him. They said he could never leave the white and their harsh words, that he was to be stuck there forever. But, leaving implies there is a way out. In a fit of anger, something in him sparked and he felt a warm touch inside of him that made him smile. A round thing formed, showing colors that he had never seen before. Not paying the voices any mind, he walked into the round thing.

Who was it that had gave him such a warm feeling before he walked into that round thing, making all his dreams and wishes came true - not that he was angry about that - proving the Voices wrong?-

"noW...lEaF gReEn oR liGhT GrEEn...?" Glitchy hummed with a smile, holding two different shades of green crayons in his hands, judging them on which to use for his new picture he was making.

Glitchy was in the living room, sitting on the floor at the wooden coffee table with a black couch behind him, watching a show on the used TV they had gotten and to his Big Brother Delusion moving around in the kitchen. Sheets of paper were all around him as well three boxes of crayons, all having different colors and shades in them. There was even a small box right next to where he sat, filled with art supplies that his Big Brother Erratum had gotten him. Apparently it was 'on sale online', whatever that meant.

The red thing on the TV was talking to a fish now. Glitchy liked the red thing, who called himself 'Elmo'. The show was teaching him a bunch of things! He also liked the show with the weird talking people, all of them wearing a color and had grey things on their tummies with things coming out of their heads, and it was funny when his Big Brothers called the weird talking people 'demons from hell' when they saw it on TV. - The first time they saw the show, Big Brother Erratum had looked at the weird people and said "ThEy're trYiNg to suMMon someTHinG, I kNoW It. I'Ve hEArD oTHers tALk thE sAMe WaY iN sOmE AU's wHIle thEY WeRE StanDinG aROuND a cIRcle wiTh RunEs CaRvED iNtO tHE groUND, sumMOniNg sOmeThINg To tRy aNd kIlL mE OFf....noT tHAt WhatEvER tHE hELL CamE oUT oF tHE ciRclE WaS abLE To kILl mE. i WaS juSt shOckED iT WoRKEd EvERy TimE iT hAPPEnD To mE." Big Brother Flaw had stared at Big Brother Erratum with a funny face while Big Brother Static had stared at the weird people in the TV like he had never seen it before even though he had been watching the show with them since it started. Big Brother Delusion just shivered like he was cold as the weird people were talking in their funny voices. Glitchy just thought his brothers were being funny. - But Glitchy loved them! They were so funny and bright, much better then the white room and the Voices.

His older brothers also made sure to help him learn too. His Big Brother Erratum had sat down with him every day to teach him things, like magic or how to read. It was funny because his Big Brother Static had to take a lot of the same lessons as him, but he made it so fun because he wasn't learning everything alone. His other Big Brothers also made time to teach him the little things, sometimes it was funny too!

While they had stayed in that really old building, his Big Brother Static had got some things called 'fruit' and they both tried them together, while Big Brother Flaw named them as they tried them. Big Brother Delusion liked to sit him on his lap while he read aloud and taught him how to read those bumpy letters. After Big Brother Erratum had bought all the coloring supplies, he had sat down with him and told him every single name of the colors so that he would know them as he couldn't really read the names just yet. Or, at least, not all of them.

They all made sure to tell him about the colors that surrounded him, what color was that flower to what color was the sky and everything in between, and the colors that were on him. He could wear any color he wanted now - he could be colorful!

He could wear whatever he wanted, could put on as many colors as he wanted. His Big Brothers told him so! Big Brother Delusion even said that he was the color in his life because he couldn't see them anymore. The others agreed with him too! That had to mean that the Voices were wrong...right?

His Big Brothers said so after all. And what is his wouldn't lie to him, because while they are his, he is theirs. It's not complicated like letters and numbers are.

Glitchy Miscalculation finally had a family that he could call his, and not even the mean Voices could take them away from him now.

-He stared. He couldn't help it.

Because....

[He wanted Death.]

{He wanted Peace.}

~He wanted Sleep.~

#He wanted Mercy.#

*He wanted Freedom.*

....looking right back at him was himself, yet not himself.-

Destiny had watched every single of them. Watched as the oldest lived so long that he tried every single way of dying and them some just to get out of Fate's hold. Watched the second oldest live long yet not that long, dragging Fate's threads and chains as he tried to do his job. Watched as the third oldest became apathetic and hilariously enough didn't give a shit about Fate or anything about a job, but lost so much of himself because of it all. Watched as the fourth oldest was beaten until there was almost nothing left to beat, just trying his best to do what he was told and not understanding why he was hated for it. Watched as the youngest was screamed at, hated at, and had to regress to a child-like mind to get by because of it all, loosing all his memories as he regressed back.

Fate had a hand in all of them, all at varying degrees of success on their part. Yet in every single Multiverse they had made, they still favored their first true child over their formed child.

Destiny on the other hand, favored their first chosen children over every single Multiverse.

So, right from under Fate's nose, Destiny used what power they had to move their chosen children somewhere safe, far from Fate's hold.

In this new Multiverse, Fate has no foothold. There is no Creator or Destroyer, nor are they needed.

This Multiverse was run by destiny, luck, balance and chaos. Not fate. Anything could happen, and that's why Destiny chose it. Why they had put all their chosen children together.

Now, their destiny was inside them, up to them to make and choose. Destiny can only nudge and tug suggestions, nothing more. And that's the way it should be.

Finally.

Finally, Destiny can watch their precious chosen child live and be free, to love and smile freely.

Fate can be a bitch.

But Destiny knew that a Mother scorned is the worst enemy one can face, even Fate.

Fate can burn.

Destiny was finally free to love their children and help them, and no one is going to stop them.

Not even Fate.

-End Chapter-

Well, here it is!

First off, yes, what show Glitchy was talking about with the weird people were the Teletubbies. Erratum has seen many weird and strange things in his long, long life. Monsters trying to summon something to kill him off isn't even in his top hundred strangest things he has lived through - I say 'lived through' because they actually did summon something and he had to kill it/them. He has lived the longest out of all of the after all, so he has seen things that none of them ever have before. And he's planning on keeping it that way for obvious reasons.

More about the past they made up will come in later in the chapters. Also, more explanation on the city they live in will be in the next chapter, as with what their rooms look like and what they are now wearing.

I still haven't found places for all the other characters, like the jobs they hold, but I'm getting there. I already have some of the characters planned out, but some details need to be kinked out before I start putting them into the story.

Also, warnings here. There will be age differences. Not HUGE ones mind you, like Erratum would let a pedophile come at any of his siblings and live to even think about it let alone do anything, but it is going to happen. So if anyone is triggered by that, just a warning here.

Their magic is a bit wonky, only the teleportation part of it though. So stealing has just gotten harder for them to do. Oh, they could still do it - or at least most of them can because years of practice - but it's best to give themselves a paper trail and not get caught stealing. Magic can and does exist, others do have Gaster Blasters. They have no idea how strong others are, they are not chancing something when they don't know if they can be tracked by stealing big amounts of whatever they need. Better to steal small amounts when needed, or even better get a stable job. It's why they made the online store, and why Erratum is making books/book series based off his life with name changes and vague character description obviously. It's also the reason Erratum is looking for another job as well.

Now Erratum really knows what a Sans feels like, holding so many jobs, but he doesn't mind it.

The Miscalculation family is going to shake the city up, and they are going to attract a lot of weird characters and trouble.

Cue Erratum wishing they had moved to the country and started a farm of some kind.

Words: 7,348

#My Fanfic #Fanfiction #Harrish6 #Destiny #Erratum #Flaw #Static #Delusion #Glitchy #Miscalculation Family #Fate #Fate VS Destiny #Family Is Everything #Error Belongs To Loverofpiggies #I Only Own These Versions Of Error #And This Story Too Of Course

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smokeybrand · 4 years ago

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American Horror Story

My brother has a problem with Universal Base Income. He has a difficult time reconciling personal responsibility and objective empathy. Dude thinks that if you give people enough money to live comfortably, they will just be content with that and not strive to for better. Using government funds to make sure people have the ability to live and eat without fear of dying, will effectively kill all American innovation, in his mind. I do not understand that logic at all. I do not get how someone can see a base playing field where no one has to worry about starving, eviction, or getting their utilities cut off, will somehow ruin the entrepreneurial spirit or whatever. I her him say these things and i try to understand his point of view but it doesn't make any sense. It doesn't make any sense because the understanding he has about the mentality of his fellow man is skewed.

These programs, free college, free daycare, UBI, social medicine, combined with a livable minimum wage, make for some of the happiest, most industrious peoples in the world. The frugal four in Europe, Austria, Denmark, Netherlands, and Sweden, consistently poll as the happiest places to live, every year, and it's because of these programs. Not all of them have every one, but most run a combination of them all. They have strong unions that force employers to stay honest and tax those with more at higher rates because they can contribute at that level without feeling the hit. If i get a ticket in Sweden, I'd pay three hundred dollars. It's a hit that hurts but it ain't going to cripple me. If a millionaire gets that same ticket, then he is charged a proportional about for them to feel it but not hinder to the point they can't make a bill. This system is not only fair, but it's meritocratic - another sticking point my brother harps on. But that's my disconnect; These programs encourage meritocracy, not hider it.

Way back when 'Murrica was great, we had a lot of these same systems in place. I don't think the US has ever had UBI but we used to have the strongest unions in the world, subsidized state college, and affordable health care. Back when the government was the government and did things like support the people, we still innovated. e still were the best. We went to the f*cking moon, man! That's the most innovative sh*t in the history of man. Knowing that your quality of life is secured, regardless of failure or not, gives cats the courage to try more. Knowing the fact that your kids can eat next week and you don't have to worry about eviction goes a long way to a cat finishing school or writing the net great phone app. Being secure and happy increases productivity. It engenders loyalty. Cats work harder, faster, and better when these programs are in place. Denmark has a four day work week and maintains a fifty thousand dollar a year salary average. There are thirteen countries based there that still make the Fortune 2000 paying those salaries to their employees. They also have some of the most comprehensive social programs in the world. There is a national support system which includes free health care and education for everyone, job training, subsidized child care, a generous pension system and fuel subsidies as well as rent allowances for the elderly. And business is still thriving in Denmark which means people are still going to to work. They're going less but the same amount of work is being completed. I'm sure there are bad actors working the system for gain, there always are, but this entire situation would have collapsed in on itself if the majority of people were as terrible as my brother believes. So why is Denmark thriving? Why is Sweden thriving? Why are all of these countries with an advanced social safety net, thriving?

This is where personal responsibility comes into play for my brother. See, he works like a dog and get nowhere in his life. Dude busts his ass at work but he's been in the same position his entire adult life. There has been no progress whatsoever. He's trying so hard to lift himself up by his bootstraps while overtly hating those that ave s leg up through generational wealth or the benefit of contacts. What he doesn't understand is, with these social programs, with UBI, he wouldn't have to struggle like this. He'd be able to afford his own place. He'd have a car that could be legal. He can do everything that asshole who was born with a silver spoon can do with these programs in place, but my brother refuses the very notion because someone else might not go back to work. Kid is one of these dudes who's mad no one wants to go back to work after the Wuha because they make too much n unemployment but refuses to understand that is more a strike on the fact cats didn't make a livable wage while working. It took a while for me to see his point because there are thousands of examples of that not happening around the world. New Zealnd is a perfect example. When this sh*t hit, the Kiwi's gave each of their citizens thousands of dollars and they nipped this sh*t in the bud. They all then went back to work, happily and, more to the point, safely. They're going back to a twenty-two dollar an hour living wage, a stark contrast to the seven dollars and twenty-five cent federal incentive we have here in the States. Why would anyone want to go back to that? Who wants to go back to work making eleven hundred dollars a month plus tax deductions, when you were just making twice that for not working? How do you lift yourself up by your bootstraps when you can't afford the boots?

That's what these social programs do for everyone. They unilateral give every citizen a pair of boots to strap up. Once you got the shoes and tie them down, you can run that race without worry. If you're constantly concerned with who got their boots fraudulently, you're never going to see the bigger picture that everyone has a pair for themselves, that everyone has the same opportunity to run that rack without falling on their face or blowing out their leg. If someone does happen to stumble and fall, cats can sop to help them up without worry of getting stuck, themselves, or if they happened to step on broken glass, their feet are protected and they can keep running forward with everyone, pushing our country toward the future. I don't understand this culture of individualism and malevolence toward group success when there is very real evidence those mentalities are a detriment to progress and growth. I don't see how there is a conflict between the notion of hard work and empathy for those who can't. Just because your taxes are paying for a few Welfare Moms doesn't mean we shouldn't throw some loot at free healthcare. Just because you see some asshole abusing the UBI, doesn't mean that sh*t can't help a nineteen-year-old cover rent and food while he works through college.

There are always going to be bad actors. There are always going to be lazy people. Always. But the fact that there are hundreds of countries around the world who have these programs, manipulators included, and are still thriving, should be more than enough to seriously consider a change. They pay their employees a livable wage and are among the happiest nations in the world. These countries, hell, Colorado with all they've done with their weed money, should immediately remove any conflict or apprehension about the positives of empathetic legislature. Never mind the eye test or first hand accounts from people who have traveled abroad or those who came here and were horrified at how we live, there is legitimate data that backs up everything I just said in this rant. If you think a whole ass country would implement such sprawling changes to their economies without an ardent understanding of risk/cost, you're just being f*cking silly. To think an entire nation would uproot everything they built upon, for centuries, on a whim, without substantiating numbers to prove such drastic change would absolutely lead to prosperity for all, is the dumbest sh*t ever. And that's my point. You have to be a special kind of special to see the benefits of these social programs in real time, all over the world, in varying combinations, to varying degrees of success, and be like “Nah, f*ck that.”

There is no conflict at that point. How can there be? The data is clear as day. At that point, it's just plain selfishness. That's it. That's why the US is the way it is. Selfishness, egotism, and anti-intellectualism are championed like the goddamn second amendment here. It's infuriating. We are supposed to be the best country in the world, the delusion we are all forced to learn when we are kids, indoctrinated on the god fearing nationalism modern America pushed with every Michael Bay film or Trump rally, but we won't even take care of our own because it might cost us a little bit more. Because we might have to pass on one Frapp a week or three games a year. The only reason why anyone, including my brother, would be against this sh*t, is strictly because we, as Americans, are the most arrogant, egotistical, ignorant, boors in the entire f*cking world and we completely bought into that narcissistic delusion they sold to us. But we know it is. We’ve all seen it firsthand. Wuha has exposed every dirty little truth about this country no one in this government wants you to know. The bullsh*t has been laid bare and, even then, after this, the stupidest apocalypse, ever, there are people who will stand in front of these programs, this progress, and scream how unfair they are. How Socialism is Communism and it’s bad. How Russia ain’t America even though the tax-docging POTUS wants so very badly to be Putin. There are people who see the splendor out in the world and knowingly choose this squalor. How?

The American Dream is a f*cking nightmare and there are still people who keep willfully hitting snooze and I do not understand why.

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lati-will · 8 years ago

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Science & The Paranormal – The Question Of Consciousness

With so many people (many indeed being iconic scientific and historical figures) experiencing what they are supposedly not meant to, according to materialistic thought, the reasonable individual might be forgiven for wondering if there is something more to consciousness than our present “scientific” paradigms would have us believe. Can we go further than questioning the assumed legitimacy of orthodox materialistic theories which reduce consciousness to a mere epiphenomenon (by-product) of physical matter (the brain) and even—heaven forbid—suggest that they are not merely incomplete, but actually types of superstitions in themselves?

Etymologically, the word consciousness derives from the words scire (to know) and cum or con (with). Consciousness is “to know with.” So if you, the persona, recognize (to know or be aware of), who are you recognizing with? Is there more to consciousness than the Freudian ego and unconscious?

Mathematical physicist Roger Penrose has written:

A scientific world-view which does not profoundly come to terms with the problem of conscious minds can have no serious pretensions of [sic] completeness…I would maintain that there is yet no physical, biological, or computational theory that comes very close to explaining our consciousness or intelligence.[i]

Indeed, in the past (and even today?) some scientists had taken the absurd position that consciousness is an illusion. This, while providing a nonsensical reason to ignore the problem of consciousness, obviously fails to sate the curious inquirer’s queries regarding how we got here and what we are doing here as conscious beings. Materialistic philosophy as we know it—derived from the mechanistic worldview—had, more or less since the dawning of the Age of Reason in the 1700s, steadfastly maintained that what we call experience arises solely as a by-product of the brain’s internal workings. No brain, no consciousness.

But is it really that simple? What about functions of consciousness that appear to transcend the cranial boundaries of our heads? The Age of Reason said that these forces had only ever existed in man’s imagination; only reason could show man the truth about the universe. “The trouble was,” according to Colin Wilson, “that man became a thinking pygmy, and the world of the rationalists was a daylight place in which boredom, triviality and ordinariness were ultimate truths.”[ii]

The Age of Reason glorified the rationalist, who, enamoured of his endless linear cogitations, was blinded to faculties of consciousness that actually transcended them: faculties that would have allowed him not to merely philosophize about deeper levels of reality, but actually access them. “This is the great tragedy of modern man,” wrote occultist, philosopher, and composer Dane Rudhyar. “His much acclaimed scientific spirit frees him of the compulsions of subrational and subconscious states of mind, only to bind him to an empty rationalism and a quantitative analytical intellect, both of which actually entomb him in a sarcophagus filled with only the mimicry of life. This sarcophagus is the ‘megalopolis’—the monstrous city.”[iii]

But something stirs in the bowels of the concrete jungle. An international online survey of paranormal experiences had met with an overwhelming response, according to Australian researchers in 2006. The survey, on phenomena that cannot be explained using the current “laws” of science, is by researchers at Monash University in Melbourne. A recent (for the time) Gallup poll revealed that 75% of Americans hold at least one paranormal belief, and a UK newspaper poll showed that 60% of Britons accept the existence of the paranormal, say the researchers. According to the researchers, the survey is not about beliefs or whether parapsychological phenomena exist, rather it is about what people have experienced and the impact it has had on their lives.Some 2,000 people had made contact via the internet within six weeks of the survey beginning. A whopping 96% of respondents claim to have had at least one brush with the paranormal. The exercise seeks to gauge the frequency, effect, and age of onset of unexplained phenomena such as premonitions, out-of-body and near-death episodes, telepathy, and apparitions. Results as of 2006 showed that 70% of respondents believe an unexplained event changed their lives, mostly in a positive way. Some 70% also claim to have seen, heard, or been touched by an animal or person that wasn’t there, 80% report having had a premonition, and almost 50% recalled a previous life.[iv] In May 2000, the New York Times Sunday Magazine published results of a poll conducted by Blum & Weprin Associates; a huge 81% said they believed in life after death.[v]

Virtually all of these beliefs hint at (and require in order to be true) the existence of other realms or dimensions in which consciousness can operate. A 2005 poll taken by the Scottish paranormal society showed that more people are likely to believe in ghosts and the paranormal than have faith in any organized religion. A Gallup survey taken in 2005 showed that about three in four Americans profess at least one paranormal belief.[vi] This is a massive amount of “paranormal” experience and belief—all of it depending on the existence of other levels of reality, without which such experience can only be labeled as delusion and fantasy.

Did you know that the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) has now been amended so that genuinely psychic people are no longer considered “disordered”?[vii]

Intuition and Creativity

Srinivasa Ramanujan (below, left), born in India, 1887–1920, has been called the strangest man in all of mathematics, probably in the entire history of science. Working in isolation from his peers, this genius was single-handedly able to re-derive a hundred years’ worth of Western mathematics. As Michio Kaku reports in Hyperspace, the tragedy of his life is that much of his work was wasted rediscovering known mathematics.[viii] Most interesting to us, Ramanujan said that the goddess Namakkal inspired him in his dreams; in other words, the source of his creative genius was this other realm within his sleep, rather than ordinary waking consciousness.

Is there a link between this other realm of sleep and paranormal phenomena? At a glance, such a presumption appears to be a stretch, but the reservation of judgment is highly recommended at this point. Carl Jung (below) once said: “The images and ideas that dreams contain cannot possibly be explained solely in terms of memory. They express new thoughts that have never yet reached the threshold of consciousness.”[ix]

Ramanujan appears to provide an excellent example of the type of non-ordinary information access that the Russian paranormal researchers might call hypercommunication, and he isn’t alone among specialists, pioneers, giants of science, and so-called regular people. In fact, pioneer psychiatrist and consciousness researcher Stanislav Grof found that during LSD experiences his own patients were capable of accessing the “collective unconscious,” obtaining very specific, accurate, and detailed knowledge. In the LSD training program for scientists, relevant insights occurred in fields as diverse as cosmogenesis, the nature of space and time, subatomic physics, ethology, animal psychology, history, anthropology, and many more.[x]

Ramanujan, assuming he really did receive detailed formulas in his dreams via the subconscious, provides perhaps some indication of just how accurate and detailed this knowledge can be. As we will see, these insights that defy the Freudian and Newtonian-Cartesian (reductionist) worldview/s abound in the literature. In 1862 the chemist Friedrich August von Kekule famously arrived at the solution for the chemical formula for benzene in a dream wherein he saw the benzene ring in the form of a snake biting its tail—an archetypal symbol in itself—the Ouroburos. In a supreme historical irony, Descartes’ principles of what ultimately became the mechanist philosophy originated from a dream on the eve of St. Martin’s day of 1619 in which the “Angel of Truth” explained to him that mathematics was the key to unlocking the secrets of Nature![xi]

Similarly, Nikola Tesla constructed the electric generator…after the complete design of it appeared to him in great detail in a vision. The design for the experiment leading to the Nobel Prize–winning discovery of the chemical transmission of nerve impulses occurred to the physiologist Otto Leowi while he was asleep. Albert Einstein discovered the basic principles of his special theory of relativity in an unusual state of mind; according to his description, most of the insights came to him in the form of kinaesthetic sensations.[xii]

Einstein had said:

“The supreme task of the physicist is to arrive at those universal elementary laws from which the cosmos can be built up by pure deduction. There is no logical path to these laws; only intuition, resting on sympathetic understanding of experience, can reach them.”[xiii]

Many of the great scientists have said very similar things. From out of nowhere a revelatory vision or understanding hits them, as if suddenly downloaded into their minds from some esoteric conceptual repository. It is interesting that many people find in lucid dreams that they can learn skills that translate directly into real waking life or they can solve problems in the conscious dream state that in the physical world had stumped them, and moreover, these solutions actually work.[xiv] Francis Crick was under the influence of LSD in 1953 at the moment when he perceived the double helix shape and unraveled the structure of DNA.[xv] The chemist D. I. Mendeleyev saw his entire periodic table of elements one night in a dream. And of course, many of history’s greatest and most successful musical artists came up with their best material under the influence of one drug or another.

Oprah Winfrey says, “My business skills have come from being guided by my inner self—my intuition.”[xvi] She’s not alone among the financially abundant. Researchers have tested CEOs of successful corporations for their ability to see the future, such as by predicting a string of numbers they would be shown later. They found that the CEOs who are good at this are usually those who are also highly successful in running their corporations, while CEOs who did not have this ability tend to have mediocre success rates in their corporations. “In one study,” says Dr. Larry Dossey, “experimenters were able to predict in advance the most successful corporate balance sheets by how well the CEOs did on tests that measured their ability to predict the future, such as a string of numbers they’d be shown later.”[xvii]

In 1982 the St. Louis Business Journal tested how a psychic would fare against professional stockbrokers over a six-month period, and reported that the psychic, who had no formal training in stockmarket trading or analysis, outperformed 18 of 19 professional stockbrokers. During the testing period, the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 8% but the psychic’s stocks went up an average of 17.2%, while the sole broker who beat her achieved 17.4%.[xviii] Physicist and psi researcher Russel Targ’s research group Delphi Associates succeeded in psychically forecasting for nine consecutive weeks the fluctuations in the silver commodity futures markets, earning them a tidy $120,000.[xix]

Psi* techniques are playing an increasingly important role on Wall Street, according to Dean Radin’s sources.[xx] In 1987 Richard S. Broughton, scientist and former president of the Parapsychological Association, pointed to the need-serving nature of psi and the competitive advantage it often provides in the struggle for survival—Darwinists rejoice.[xxi]

Many scientists have had profound interests in fields beyond the reach of the science of their day. For instance, Isaac Newton was an obsessive alchemist[xxii] and Freemason in search of the way to transform consciousness, Thomas Edison built machines to try to facilitate communication with the dead, and Marie Curie attended séances. The list of such eminent scientists with keen interests in the paranormal goes on and on. Is it a credible suggestion that they all were merely deluded into pursuing these areas by cunning charlatans or irrational, wishful thinking? Even Freud, whose attitude towards the occult was originally negative, changed his tune as he matured and learned more about it, suggesting, in a 1949 paper called Psychoanalysis and Telepathy, a union between psychoanalysts and occultists: “[O]ne might expect a mutual sympathy between the two…[A]n alliance of, and collaboration between, psychoanalysis and occultists would seem to be both plausible and promising.”[xxiii]

What about those modern-day scientists and professionals who have experiences in the “paranormal” realm? Brian Weiss, psychiatrist, hypnotherapist, and author, wrote:

The respected chairman of a major clinical department at my hospital is a man who is admired internationally for his expertise. He talks to his deceased father, who has several times protected him from serious danger. Another professor has dreams that provide the missing steps or solutions to his complex research experiments. The dreams are invariably correct. Another well-known doctor usually knows who is calling him on the phone before he answers it…[xxiv]

If these insights come from only one man, imagine what else we might be missing out on if we keep our heads in the sand while new paradigms form around us…

* Psi (pronounced “sigh”) is a term for parapsychological (occult) phenomena derived from the Greek, psi, twenty‐third letter of the Greek alphabet; from the Greek psyche, “mind, soul.” First used in a parapsychological context by biologist B.P. Wiesner, it was first used in print by British psychologist Robert Thouless in 1942.

By: Brendan D. Murphy

#consciousness #soul #spirit #science #dreams #telepathy #multidimensionality #articles

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willsherjohnkhan · 7 years ago

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The Inexplicable Miss Molly Hooper

Chapter 1: The Missing Pathologist

***

221B BAKER STREET - 2015

Sherlock Holmes sat at his kitchen table. In front of him a beaker on a stand over a Bunsen burner, its contents just starting to boil when his mobile began to ring. As the experiment required his full attention, being that its result would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt the guilt or innocence of a client, he ignored the irritating distraction, sighing with relief when it finally stopped ringing.

Time was of the essence with an experiment such as this, any false move on his part would cause an inaccurate reading, which could result in dire consequences for his client. He was just about to add the contents of the pipet in his hand to the boiling liquid when his mobile began to ring once again.

The moment was lost, the experiment ruined.

Sherlock grabbed his phone. “What Lestrade,” he snapped. “I was just…”

“I don’t care what you’re working on Sherlock,” Lestrade growled in response. “Get your arse over to Barts morgue – now!”

And the line went dead.

Sherlock checked the screen, most put out when it confirmed that the Detective Inspector had indeed disconnected the call.

***

BARTS HOSPITAL – MORGUE

When he arrived at Barts, John was waiting for him, having been similarly summoned by Lestrade.

When they entered the morgue they found that it was an active crime scene.

When Lestrade made his way over to them. John asked. “Where’s Molly?” as he looked around for the young pathologist.

“She’s the reason for all this,” Lestrade responded as he indicated the CSI work being performed.

Sherlock glanced over as Anderson and his team worked diligently collecting swabs and samples.

Lestrade’s gaze followed Sherlock’s. “There are signs that there was a struggle. As near as we can tell Molly put up a hell of a fight.”

“So where is she?” Sherlock asked, his concern only too clear to his friends.

“There is no trace of her anywhere,” came the unsatisfactory response.

“Don’t be ridiculous Lestrade,” Sherlock responded impatiently. “She can’t have just disappeared into thin air.”

“But that’s the thing Sherlock. Molly isn’t just missing, it’s like she never existed.”

Sherlock was now genuinely annoyed. He’d always regarded Lestrade as a reasonable, down to earth sort of person. But his statement was bordering on the fanciful.

“Even if she has been kidnapped, as is clear from what’s happened here, there would still be records of her somewhere. Her Birth Certificate, Medical Degrees, friends and family,” he stated with conviction.

“But that’s just it, we’ve checked the records, there is no birth certificate for her, no lease for her flat under her name, school records, medical degrees. And even those who know her well, family and friends claim to have never heard of her…”

“That’s impossible.”

“That’s why I called you. As far as I can discover, the only people who currently remember Molly are you, me, John and Stamford. And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m concerned that there’s a very good chance that we may end up forgetting her too.”

At that moment Lestrade was called away.

Sherlock considered all that Scotland Yard detective had told him. He intended to perform his own investigation to confirm the validity of these unbelievable facts. But if they turned out to be true…

For a man used to deductive reasoning based on cold, hard logic, backed up by the application of scientific methodology. It was highly unnerving to be struck by a sense of growing unease and foreboding for the safety of his pathologist.

For wherever Molly was; she was in very grave danger.

***

Chapter 2: Out of Place, Out of Time

***

LONDON – 1895

The pain she felt as she slammed into the ground came as a huge relief to Molly Hooper. It meant that her tummy-churning journey had finally come to an end, and that she had returned back to something that resembled reality.

Momentarily stunned, she stayed where she’d unceremoniously landed, only scrambling unsteadily to her feet when she became aware of a horse-drawn carriage bearing down on her.

Her body still swaying from the after-effects of being forcibly snatched from her place of work and then almost being trampled, Molly took several calming breathes, using the time to regain her senses as she tried to establish where exactly she’d ended up.

Looking around her, she recognised enough of the buildings to know that she was still in London. She let out a sigh of relief. But as she viewed the skyline she frowned. ‘That couldn’t be right…’

Glancing around her she noted the state of the roads, the people moving all around her, and what they wore. The pungent yet fresh smell of horse manure in the air, so different from the London she knew and loved.

And she realised that her initial assessment was true….

Through an inexplicable feat of time-travel Molly Hooper has ended up in Victorian London.

And as if that wasn’t enough to get her head around, Molly now began to recognise faces in the crowd as they went about their business. It wasn’t like these people resembled people she knew in her time. She wasn’t looking at people that were related to her friends and associates. They were the people she knew.

“That can’t be good,” she muttered under her breath.

Molly was a huge fan of the TV series Doctor Who, but that didn’t make her an expert on time-travel. She remembered in the episode The Shakespeare Code when the Tenth Doctor brought Martha Jones to Elizabethan London to see William Shakespeare himself perform at The Globe Theatre. Martha had been rightly concerned about what she could and couldn’t do in case it impacted on her own timeline. But Martha hadn’t seen anyone she knew personally. No, the situation Molly found herself facing resembled more that faced by Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith in the episodes Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel, what science fiction writers referred to as an Alternate Reality.

Molly decided it was time to get some answers: How was she brought here? Why was she brought here? And how she was going to get back to her own time and reality?

Decision made, Molly walked with determination through the familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar streets until she reached her destination, the address where she knew she would find the only person with a mind exceptional enough to help her – 221B Baker Street.

***

Chapter 3: A Solution to Boredom

***

221B BAKER STREET – 1895

Sherlock Holmes, Great Britain’s, if not the world’s only private consulting detective was bored. There are no cases to solve, or at least none worth his time.

Ever since the demise of Professor Moriarty, the most intellectually stimulating opponent he was ever likely to encounter, followed by the capture of Colonel Sebastian Moran, A man who managed to be both hero and villain with his remarkable air riffle. Every other case that had been brought to his attention seemed trivial and meaningless by comparison.

Compounding his situation was the simple matter that his friend and biographer, Doctor John Watson was currently away. Spending a few relaxing days with his wife, Mary in the country.

Leaving the great detective with nothing to preoccupy his mind, no way to quieten his ever-constant need for stimulation in the form of an intriguing problem to solve.

So he turned to the only option left open to him. But just as he was on the point of injecting the seven percent solution into his arm, the syringe was snatched out of his hand.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing Sherlock?” exclaimed the most remarkable looking young woman the detective could ever recall having laid eyes on.

As she clutched the implement to her chest, she continued despairingly. “So some things never change.”

Though taken aback by her appearance, the detective recovered himself quickly, and instantly took inventory of the forthright young woman before him. First and foremost he noted her unconventional attire: a white coat, trousers and flat shoes, so, possibly an actress. Upon further inspection he dismissed this notion, given the monogram on the jacket, the small callosus on her fingers and the chemical odour she attempted to hide with some form of perfume, led the detective to the conclusion that she worked at the mortuary at one of London’s Hospitals. Then there was the informal way she addressed him, as though they were intimate acquaintances. There was a something about the woman, though small and plain, something that could best be described as otherworldly, which all led to the inescapable, though illogical conclusion…

“Sherlock, I think I’ve travelled in time,” came the confirmation. “Or possibly inter-dimensionally…” she added, chewing distractedly on her lower lip.

Sherlock frowned. Everything in his cold scientific heart rebelled against such fantastical notions. But as he continued to observe her, his keen intellect acknowledged that the unusual woman before him was as scientifically motivated, in the medical sciences at least, as he was, and was therefore not likely to be prone to delusions of the fanciful sort, save that of the romantic arena. But that was due entirely to her sex…

“Sherlock! Snap out of your damned Mind Palace! I need your help, now!”

Holmes felt his jaw literally drop. No one, certainly not anyone of the female persuasion had ever spoken to him quite in that manner before.

He was instantly smitten, though not in any romantic sense. He simply admired her forthright manner. Indicating the sofa with an elegant sweep of his hand. “Please take a seat, Miss…?”

“Molly Hooper,” Molly replied, as she sat down, the strange events once again threatening to overwhelm her. But she quickly regained her senses, unwilling to give in to such weakness. She needed answers.

“Now, Miss Hooper,” Holmes began. “How may I be of service?”

Looking the detective squarely in the eye, Molly began her unusual tale. “The facts are these. I’m from the year 2015. I work at St Bart’s Hospital, I’m a Pathologist, and I was just finishing up my work for the day, when I became aware of an odd glow that seemed to emanate from somewhere behind me. Before I could turn to ascertain the cause, I was grabbed from behind and pulled into… a time tunnel, or something of the like. I struggled to free myself. When I finally succeeded, I found myself… here, in London, in late nineteenth century London. But a London that contains people I know and recognise from my own time. Including you.”

“Fascinating,” Holmes murmured.

Molly looked down, the syringe still clasped in her hand. Saying aloud the events that had taken place hadn’t made the situation feel more real. Instead she was left wondering it was all a dream, or a hallucination…

But the detective would have none of it. Getting up from his chair, he retrieved the syringe from her, and placed it back in its case, before putting the case back in the desk draw.

He no longer needed the artificial stimulant. He finally had something far more intriguing to occupy his mind.

Turning back to his client he informed her. “When you eliminate the impossible, Miss Hooper, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“So, you’re… you’re going to help me?” Molly asked, a spark of hope reigniting at the detectives determined expression.

“I am,” he assured her.

***

Chapter 4: Following in Her Footsteps

***

BART’S MORGUE – 2015

Sherlock sat watching, then re-watching the footage from the security cameras. It showed Molly going about her daily business, until there is a sudden flash of light.

Molly begins to struggle and thrash about. She appears to try and call out, but its like someone has a hand over her mouth. Except that the video footage clearly shows that she is the only person in the morgue at the time.

So what the hell is going on?

“Looks like she’s having a fit,” John offered as he watched the footage over Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Possibly,” the consulting detective replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Maybe she’s finally lost her marbles,” Lestrade callously remarked. “Cutting up cadavers every day, it must pray on the mind.”

“This is Molly we’re talking about, Lestrade,” Sherlock snapped angrily. “She’s made of far sterner stuff.”

“Oh, you know her do you?” the Detective Inspector asked, clearly surprised. “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have called you in.”

John looked at Lestrade totally gob smacked. “We’re talking about Molly, Molly Hooper, Pathologist. She who has assisted not only us, but you as well Lestrade in the solving of a number of cases.”

But Lestrade’s expression remained completely blank.

“Ignore him John,” Sherlock advised. “He’s clearly come under the influence of whatever it is that is so determined that we all forget Molly Hooper ever existed.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock replied honestly. “But I intend to find out.”

John peered at the footage. “What’s that?” he queried. The video showed Molly continuing her struggle against an unseen assailant, and then there was another flash of light, and Molly had disappeared. “A camera glitch?”

Sherlock got to his feet and made his way over to the spot where Molly had stood. He became immediately aware of…‘something’ there was no other way to describe the sensation that washed over him, urging him to step forward. But he refused to give into its pull, for the moment at least.

Retrieving his magnifying lens from an inside jacket pocket he spent several minutes examining the area, looking for anything that would give him a clue as to the whereabouts of the young pathologist. But it soon became evident that he wasn’t going to find any answers here.

His gaze returned to the spot where Molly had stood when she disappeared.

“You’ve found something?” John asked.

When John made to join him Sherlock ordered. “Stay back.”

John did as requested, though his expression showed genuine confusion.

Sherlock made his way back to the spot where he’d felt the unusual sensation. It was still there, but weaker. Time was running out. He dared not mention the idea that was forming in his mind to John. The former army doctor would assume he was high. As it was he was having difficulty believing it himself. It went against everything he believed in. It wasn’t logical. But he needed to make a decision, and quickly.

Turning back to address his friend, he requested. “Whatever you do John, promise me you wont forget Molly Hooper, or me.” Without waiting for a response he took a step forward, and disappeared in a flash of light.

***

BAKER STREET, LONDON – 1895

Molly and Holmes were standing outside 221B trying to hail a hansom cab when they were temporarily blinded by a bright flash.

Then they were knocked to the pavement, the result of colliding with the large object that had emerged through the light.

Holmes quickly got to his feet, before going to the aid of his client. “Miss Hooper, are you all right?”

“Molly? Is that you?”

Molly gave a gasp of surprise when she recognised the voice of the third person now getting to his feet.

“Sherlock!” she cried with delight. “How did you find me?”

Sherlock looked around him, a concerned frown marring his brow as he took in the vastly different London to the one he was used to. And then his gaze fell on Molly’s companion.

Noting the stunned expressions on both men’s faces, Molly decided there was only one thing to do. “Sherlock Holmes, circa 2015, let me introduce you to…Sherlock Holmes, circa 1895.”

***

#Sherlolly #Inter-dimensional time travel #Modern day and Victorian mysteries #Alternate universe #A work in progress

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ol-razzle-dazazzle · 8 years ago

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A shitty old drabble that’s been laying around on my laptop forever, it’s also RanAki/Ranposano? whatever y’all call it, bc I love them and the Poe ep- which the ficcy drabble takes place in

You miss me, don't you?

I can see it in the slits of your eyes, and I know that ever since that day with that horrifying story that you have suffered what I have gone through with your own body.

'The murderer was me.' You said that so confidently, and I knew there was no worry in placing my trust in you. But I couldn't figure that out, and by the time I lay myself on the line it was too late. Oh it makes my arteries quiver to know you saw me like that, dead on the floor.

Oh how I missed you. Even in that phantasmagoric story that felt more like a nightmare, it was the fairytale of my dreams. To think that such things as vile as death would bring us closer again, but I hate it. I hate not doing anything, but deep in my cold heart that bleeds all kind of blood, I was feeling some sadistic pleasure of you suffering with me, with me.

Oh how I miss the caw of your crow-like voice. Your ruffled hair splayed out like the stranded petals of spider lillies. But work made us unable to meet, much like the legend of the leaves and flower. I was busy bringing people to life, leaves raised- basic beauty of life. You were busy with your split-second whims and deduction, figuring and preventing death.

The green fields of your eyes, in the rare occurence that you would open them in front of me, a rarity that a flower of death is every fully alive, the leaves and nectar touching. Just one drink, just one moment, just one chance to hear you scream as you splay yourself on the examination table.

Okay that was a bit sadistic, but I can't help it. I can't help but feel a sullen fascination of grim with you, the occasions where you scream for me as I fix your wounds up. But you shouldn't be that loud, I give you a lollipop after, anyway.

I want to toss it aside, I want to disregard this as a strange occurrence, that will never happen again. We slipped apart, after those years of a meek Agency, lead by a snickering crow. If you were to die, if I were to die- would any of this matter? I don't need you to save me, you don't need to be saved- we're all relative monarchs here, so scrap all the middleschooler crap and let's navigate a train and sometimes intersect with each other.

I miss that. That casual feeling, that ease that came with being with you. I don't care if it's a fuck or a kiss or a hug, I just want you to be beside me. To chatter away, coffee in my hand, some sugary limited edition shake in yours. I want to see your eyes again, I want to feel your hand on mine as you keep telling me that coffee is worse than bleach if you don't have at least 4 spoons of sugar. Where we could just talk shit and shoot the breeze so much the sky has bullet holes.

One, especially a doctor should maintain a professional relationship after all. But...the truth is I already envy you so harshly. The carefree way you hold yourself, that shit-eating grin you get on your face when you 'win' over the most miniscule things. How you can seem so content to be alone yet so cheery and chipper to other people.

Do you feel the need to take people on the train so you feel less alone? I mean, how pathetic! How honest can a man be? But you're one step above me, once again. Whatever, I can still reach things from the top shelf, shithead. A detective like you probably can't even lie anyway.

The problem with that though, is that you know when to hide things. And you do so often.

Fuck it, that's my goal. I want to wipe that smartass smirk off your face, and I want you to look at me, I want to be beside you again, even if it's to shed some reality on that superiority complex.

But you came to me first. Am I that much of a mastermind seductress? You say it's some trivial thing, you needed to pick up something. Well that's a lie, unless you're picking me up- you brought your bag home with you and oh for heck's sake a half-empty bottle of boiled candy. Congrats. I can only provide a slow, deadpan clap- which in retrospective I should've taken my gloves off for. It's hard to give the same effect.

But then you catch me off guard worse than any murderer satisfied with their delusion of a perfect crime. With a perfectly reasonable sentence, and one that in a perfect world you would ask. The world is by no means perfect nor hopeless, so perhaps this balance was in my favour. "We should talk about what happened."

"What's there to talk about?" I raise an eyebrow, and I see you back off slightly, like really? A shift in the weight of your shoulders, a tiny detail no one who hasn't seen you react in front of a cleaver would notice. You're more like a cat that way.

"Nothing, then." You wave a dismissive hand, and I so desperately want to call you out on your bullshit.

"Don't give me that, I've known you for years, doesn't take deduction." And so I do.

"Well that's it, isn't it?" Cryptic fucker.

"It isn't?" The solution to clear mist away is to add more mist.

"I give up." He shrugs. "I get confused on multiple-negatives and rhetoric questions."

"..." I pout, how ignorant can you get? That is, before I say, "What was it like to watch me die in your arms?" We can't help but laugh, and laugh we do.

"Absolutely terrifying." You snicker, and we know we're both serious. Laughter is genuine, and grim sorrow is as well. "I never expected that I'd care about you so much."

"Ah, is that right?" Inquisitive eyes, and your own open as well. It was only for a second, but I caught it, that fading forest of green.

"Well, of course." A glimmer opens, just one eye.

"You see death all the time." I point out, twisting the fate of your words, to what I want to hear.

"Not with you." The answer comes almost all too instantly, almost indignant of me dying. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"Don't plan on it."

Ah, damn. Too short a reply. We sit in silence once more, and with a heavy heart I feel that distance again with your eye slipping shut.

"You know, it's...strange." You smile again, and I don't play my cards too soon again. "Hmm?"

"Even with everything...I still felt at ease with you. Almost like-" Screw it, this is where I want it. "Old times, huh?" Your eyes flicker open in surprise. "...Yeah."

"That's why you wanted to talk...right?" Got you. Another smirk. "Of course, but that's not all it." You nod to yourself, psh, as if you ever second-guessed yourself anyway. "I don't want things to go back to the way they used to, and I don't want them to go back to the way they were before Poe came along."

You stand up, and you shrug. "Is this 'love'? I don't know, don't really care, but I just want to be with you." I can't help but look down, and stifle a chuckle. Finally, but I can't help but savour the moment.

"Oh, what happened to 'all's well that's well for me'?"

"Well, I would be well, if you were well with me." A self-assured smirk and a poke on the shoulder.

"You know, I'm pissed." I can't help but sigh. "I wanted to try wiping that smirk off your face. Pity."

"What about a kiss then?" We both say at the same time, and both laugh. "Come on, am I really that predictable?" You put a hand to your head, so overly afraid of the mere notion that you are 'normal'.

Well, I guess it was easier than I thought to do so.

"One problem, your heels, I am not going to stretch myself for a kiss, that's beneath me." "You know what's beneath me?" "Shut up."

A hand settles on my tie, pulling me down slightly. "Better?" I raise an eyebrow.

Your lips press against mine, and when you pull away you have that grin that I adore. "Better."

#idk it old #like 4 months wow #ranaki #ranpo #yosano #bsd #my writing

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sagebodisattva · 6 years ago

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Externalization

Yeah, I hear you man. You are externalizing.

I hear that too, brother. And you are externalizing.

Yeah? Well, you may be only speaking metaphorically, but guess what? You are still externalizing, nonetheless.

When we talk about deconstructing our preset conditioning that dictates to the consciousness where to focus the attention, it's important to understand just how crucial this maneuver is towards redefining the old description of reality with the truth of existentiality. And this is no easy task, for the old description of reality is deeply engrained into us, and we are even trained to automatically defend it's position without giving such fortifications any thought. So you can clearly see why, despite a possible initiative to undertake such an endeavor, that it's going to be a very difficult task to employ.

Indeed, it will be a very arduous road to take, but do yourself a favor and don't waste time trying to take any shortcuts, for they don't really lend towards accomplishing the objective at hand. This is most usually evidenced by assumptive efforts to try and circumvent various paraphernalia of indulgence, but this is misspent effort; for the way to master cravings is not attained by avoiding external objects of desire. Remember, avoidance, despite the impression of refrain, is still an attachment, for it still invests in the desire for specific outcome, and therefor isn't conducive towards the necessary detachment required to facilitate the sublimation of the attention. The attention must be re-directed by way of applied implementation, and so the awareness must learn to do this empirically. So it needs attachments to practice on. Removing the objects of desire doesn't get the job done. And forcing someone to do what they don't wanna do, because someone thinks they know better then someone else, won't get the job done either. It has to be a willing enterprise that is fully prepared to confront obstacles and address them accordingly.

So the way to begin to reel in the attention, so to speak, is to reframe how we believe reality is produced. We are conditioned from a very young age to over look our own awareness, the conduit from which the stream of projections manifest, and to focus exclusively on the reflections, that is, the so called external phenomenon. This conditioning is what is known as externalization. It's a conditioning that takes no responsibility for reality; due to a false outlook that distances itself from that which is looked upon. Hence, imaginary separations are established, and the facets of existential reality become compartmentalized, and therefor are, for all intents and purposes, no longer recognized as existential, therefore deemphasizing the attention from it's own agency and redirecting it towards getting stuck on the projected perceptibles, which are no longer seen as projected reflections and, thereof, are only appreciated as externally existing fixed configurations of content.

From here, the delusions of illusion are inaugurated. This is where the finger is pointed outwards from, in an attempt to explain that which is being manifested from the mind. And when I say "mind", I do not mean any ingredient of reality. Whenever I say mind, I am referring to that which precedes the body, the brain, the emotions and the perceptions. This is where it begins to become very difficult to navigate our way back out of, towards the truth of reality, and by the time we come of age and are in a position of increased autonomy to do so, it is often already too late. Then. it becomes a matter of intervention, which is where I come in. And I say unto you, stop pointing outwards. Stop searching outwards. Stop blaming outwards. Stop externalizing. You are looking in the wrong place, and are concerned with exactly the last place that needs to be addressed. You may explore the external world from here to eternity, and search through content from soup to nuts, but all you will be really doing is sifting through layers of appearances. Understand that the spiritual journey doesn't even begin, until you start to look introspectively, towards the source of all these things.

“Look inwards for the source? Sage, it sounds like you are saying that men are gods.”

What man? What god? These are both equally inventory items of illusion. Obviously men are not gods, for we are limited and very powerless, but that's mainly due to the self imposed mental enslavement; the kind of mental slavery that looks to assign power and authority to some external property. And looking outwards towards external properties will only trap the attention further and further, for this is the nature of details; they ensnare you, and reveal even further details to sink you deeper and deeper into. And it never has an end. For every answer illusion provides, 10 more questions will arise. And all the while, the vehicle from which you are operating, of which you have only a limited time to negotiate the situation, rapidly fades away; and before you know it, the end of your form will have arrived, and you will die chasing phantoms.

So this is why it is important to make some tracks redirecting the attention. So far, you have only shifted your attention between a variety of different inventory items, and I am not asking you to focus your attention on another inventory item. I am asking you to redirect the attention towards itself. Not to YOUR self, but to ITSELF, meaning, not towards your ego, or your personification, but towards awareness itself. This is all part of understanding the nature of potentiality; you don't get caught up in attaching to it's appearances. If you do, you will certainly be at it's mercy, which in itself, is yet another distraction that snares the attention; as it reinforces the idea of the inventory by verifying itself to the attention via contention. This is another trap, for fighting against the external, while overlooking it's root cause, doesn't improve one's chances of self recognition, which, in turn, further convolutes the situation by the inevitable use of deductive reasoning based on premises that simply aren't true, and before long, one will be fully entrenched in the game of grasping and avoiding, whilst fighting adversity, all of which, keep one mired in illusion.

As with details, adversaries will increase the more the attention is placed towards them. This is where people find a plethora of excuses for not looking inwards:

“Introspection isn't going to stop the tyrannical governments of the world from spreading corruption and seeking to enslave us under a totalitarian rule.”

“Introspection isn't going to put food on the table, nor provide any practical means by which to make the world a better place.”

Can you see how these are the wrong areas to address? These concerns can be dealt with by you, personally, by looking towards where they originate from. This realm is a training ground, not a place to seek repose and security. This realm is necessarily going to stick unfairness and injustice in your face, any chance it gets, but this is exactly the trick used to fixate your attention on the perceptibles, and keep it away from the truth. Almost everything in life is this type of device.

“But what about the conspiracies! The symbolisms! The phonetics! The double meanings! The anagrams! The ancient texts! The evil that seeks to enslave us!”

Sigh.

You are reading into the inventory items way too much. All the language, memes and symbols reflect the psychology and the zeitgeist of your current state, which is manifested as a world full of confusion, paranoia, demonization and righteous indignation. These are all the apparatuses of your addiction to externalization, hence the complaints about all of this is more of the same: scheming ploys to try and get the conversation right back on the external inventory again.

Look, it doesn't matter how dramatic you try to make the cosmic horror narrative out to be, it's still a projected externalization of the inner state that created it. All of these types of assertions are insights into your own subconscious mind, that you are projecting outwards and alienating from yourself as external phenomenon. What else do you need to know? You want to address these issues? Then look within yourself. The outer world is a reflection of the inner condition and the inner predilection. The crux of your misunderstanding, the lynchpin to your entire disempowerment, is the conditioning that makes you believe that you are byproduct and not source. This is the spell that everyone is under.

And what's that you say? No matter how much you believe that externalizations originate from within you, nothing you do within yourself is going to stop what's actually occurring on the external? And that this belief does not change the situation, but only how the situation is viewed?

No, you don't know that. Because it's only a matter of belief, and not the result of realization and experimentation, do you chalk it off as such. If you had the actual knowing of it, then you would see and experience how you can mold what's occurring on the so called external. Those who know about the nature of the source have a task that is almost insurmountable. Especially since they are in slim company. People all start out deluded and then some wake up. But the quest isn't found in making illusion more comfortable and ideal, the quest is found in simply waking up yourself and then to assist all individuals towards the same. No projection can allow or disallow you to wake up, it can only, at most, distract you and invite you to get lost in it for awhile. And whether or not you do is completely within your power to control.

#Externalization

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