#the delectable detective inspector

[morningmee]

Jack just graduated from the "straight face with a tendency to scowling" class with full marks 🤨😏😍

MISS FISHER’S MURDER MYSTERIES

3x02 : Murder & the Maiden

[canadachronicles]

"People kill for all kinds of reasons, Tom. But this, most certainly, is *not* a matter of national security."

Terrence Meyers, that is, Lyle Henderson (Peter Keleghan) as he’s known in his civilian life, uttering words Brackenreid (Thomas Craig) and Murdoch (Yannick Bisson) most certainly, never, in a million years, expected to hear him say, on Murdoch Knows Best [S15E08]!!

[sandcobangevent]

The Sickbed of Sherlock Holmes

by @anmaje and @nonoweid-blog

The blackout curtain had been pulled down over the rectangular Georgian window, and although no sharp blades of sun shot through the room, the incessant bullet fire of rain still intruded on the sickbed of Sherlock Holmes. The sickbed was of course his regular bed, but it had an altered status as demanded by the good Doctor John Watson. John was currently tiptoeing round the kitchen in an attempt to let his friend find some sleep. Both men were unsuccessful. 

The detective sighed deeply, it was not only assaulting London rain and his well-meaning flatmate that hurt his ears. He could hear his own blood rushing, the pipes as well and the world outside going on without him. Millions of people meeting, parting and leaving a wide palette of delectable mysteries. None of which he could reach. A hot scent of such a mystery was waiting out there in the grey. He had followed it through the cold night, and when the morning came, he realised his keen interest had not been enough to protect him. A cold, and a fever. Those were the spoils of his hunt. John had freaked out. 

“You’re burning up mate! What were you thinking?”

“He clearly wasn’t.”

“Damn straight, Mariana. Upstairs, Sherlock, change your clothes and then straight to bed. I’ll get the thermometer-”

“No, please Watson, I’m fine-”

“Upstairs! Now! Or I’ll shove the thermometer up your arse myself.”

John had not ended up needing to follow through on his threat, but the rectal thermometer had done its job. 39.4 degrees celsius. It had then steadily crept to 39.7. A bag had been packed for a hypothetical A&E visit. It stood by the front door. Looming. 

Sherlock could not remember having had such a fever before. Though the world seemed muffled and blurry, everything, sudden or expected, was attacking his senses. Light was a knife, sound a hammer, he could taste only bile and the feeling of temperature was inconsistent. The worst thing anything usually defined by fact could be. The only sense keeping the peace was his decided lack of smell. But his stuffed sinuses, blocked and barricaded, seemed to make up for the little mercy his immune system had granted. He had been rendered useless. Sharp mind stumped and reduced to fog thicker than that which usually carried through the streets of London. That fog hid a suspect, a murderer, whose scent was slipping from Sherlock. Not that he’d be able to smell anything now. 

Despite the sensory hellscape he lay in, under-stimulation was bound to find him, he needed to see this case through. But his chances of escaping his sickbed were slim, only a restroom visit was his ticket out. Food was brought to him, and taken away again, mostly untouched. A water bottle stood on his nightstand, filled dutifully by his own private doctor, making rounds and checking his temperature. He had everything he needed at a word, but work. He reached for his water, arm and hand unsteady. That was when he heard and felt the buzzing. 

Two long and a short. Pause. One short, a long and two short. Stop.

His phone lay screen down on the nightstand. It was on do not disturb, but some people had the privilege of being let through. Several inspectors at Scotland Yard, and one other person. Said person dropped a glass in the kitchen just then. A muffled shit followed, and a no Archie don’t step there! He would be rightfully furious if he knew what Sherlock was considering. But the screen was still lighting sharply up against the cheap veneer of the particleboard nightstand from IKEA.

The buzzing sounded again: G. L.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text. Dark eyes were cut by blue light, and Sherlock promptly dropped the phone onto his own face. He peeled it off, turning to lie on his left.

The text read as follows:

Inspector G. Lestrade (Scotland Yard)

Holmes. Your podcaster called to tell us you’re on sick leave. What does this mean? 

- Lestrade.

Found your suspect. Can’t make an arrest  without evidence. Respond ASAP. Keeping him under watch.

- Lestrade.  

She was all energy and tenacity. Sherlock could imagine her frowning and typing rapidly. The second message was no doubt dictated to an unlucky constable in the passenger seat of a police vehicle. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, he mainly felt too hot and horribly dizzy, but he wished he had her energy. Perhaps his mind would then let him think. He sniffed, blinked, and attached what photos he had captured the night before. The proof of drug-dealing might get the Yard a search warrant, and hopefully thereby a murderweapon. Nothing was certain, and nothing was as it usually was. He typed a pitiful fever and pressed send. 

Through the fog that had surrounded him, Sherlock heard careful footsteps. He had no energy for panic, but still shut off his phone and sat up to put it back on the nightstand. His blood rushed through his head, a threat of fainting, he heard nothing else as his vision blurred. The taste of bile arose just as the door opened slowly. A whisper made it through the feverish fog.

“Hey Sherlock. I brought you some Ribena, it’d be good to get some sugar in you, when you have no appetite- why are you sitting?” John walked through the dark room, putting down the glass on a coaster, the blurry frame of him was familiarity itself. Language escaped the sick detective. He focused on deep breaths as he looked up, trying to make out his friend’s face. 

“Woah, woah, mate. D’you need to throw up?” A steady hand held his forehead, pushing wavy hair from his face. He leaned into the warmth of it.

“No. No, I don't think so.” His voice quivered, he felt embarrassed at that. 

“Oookay, let’s lay you down, yeah? Slowly now.” John's hand then held his heavy head at the nape. His other securely on his arm. When he was finally lying again and getting a hold of his breathing, Sherlock had to squint as sharp light and buzzing came from his up-facing phone. Warm hands left him. 

“What?- … Why is Lestrade texting you? I specifically told her you’re sick.” John was scandalised, but quickly and silently flipped the bright phone over. Sherlock felt embarrassed again.

“I need stimulation. I need work- ”

“You need rest. Work may be stimulating, but it is, decidedly, not rest.” John said. Sherlock could now make out the face of his friend. Concern etched into every line. He sighed.

“Then give me stimuli.” 

“What do you need? A hug?” John was smiling ever so slightly. Thank god.

“Pressure would be most appreciated.” Sherlock said, attempting a smile. 

“Alright.” The mattress sunk and the warmth of a body invited him in. 

“C’mere, Sherlock.” 

Steady hands and arms were around him again. The fog surrounding him became slightly more bearable. His inconsistent temperature was helped by a warm body. The taste of bile was quickly replaced with that of sweet berries. Even the sound of assaulting rain was lessened by a constant heartbeat and calm breathing. The sickbed of Sherlock Holmes would soon regain its previous lonely status, but for now it was a nurturing place. 

“... Is it now I ask you to take your temperature again?”

“Shush, John.”

[ryantavey]

Title: "Murder, She Baked"

Genre: Mystery/Comedy

Logline: In the quaint town of Maplewood, amateur baker and aspiring detective, Jane Dough, finds herself stumbling upon a series of mysterious murders. With her keen eye for detail and her delectable desserts, she becomes the unlikely solver of Maplewood's most puzzling crimes.

Synopsis:

Episode 1 - "Death by Chocolate Chip":

Jane Dough, a talented baker with a passion for solving mysteries, is gearing up for the town's annual bake-off when she discovers the lifeless body of a local food critic. Determined to clear her friend and fellow baker, Sally Sugar, of any suspicion, Jane starts investigating the crime. She follows a trail of chocolate chips, uncovering a web of secrets, rivalries, and a killer with a sweet tooth.

Episode 2 - "The Muffin Murders":

As Jane prepares for the grand opening of her new bakery, she stumbles upon a fresh crime scene at a local diner. With the help of her quirky best friend, Betty Batter, and the skeptical but charming detective, Detective Crumble, Jane sets out to solve the baffling muffin-related murders plaguing Maplewood. Suspects include a rival baker, a health inspector with a vendetta, and a mysterious customer with a strange obsession for muffins.

Episode 3 - "Pie in the Sky":

Maplewood's annual pie contest takes a dark turn when one of the judges is found dead, his face buried in a blueberry pie. Jane Dough suspects foul play and uncovers a web of betrayal, secret ingredients, and pie-related sabotage. With the help of her loyal customers-turned-sleuths, Jane races against time to catch the pie killer before another innocent baker's dreams are crushed.

Episode 4 - "The Great Scone Caper":

Jane Dough finds herself in the middle of a pastry scandal when the town's beloved scone recipe goes missing just days before the Maplewood Baking Festival. Determined to restore peace in the baking community, Jane embarks on a mission to recover the stolen recipe while uncovering a plot involving a rival bakery owner, a mischievous cat, and a secret society of scone enthusiasts.

Episode 5 - "Custard Catastrophe":

Jane Dough's reputation as a crime-solving baker grows as she investigates the suspicious poisoning of a local philanthropist during a charity bake sale. With a diverse list of suspects, including a celebrity chef, a jealous ex-lover, and a rival baker, Jane must use her culinary expertise and deductive reasoning to uncover the truth behind the custard catastrophe.

"Murder, She Baked" is a lighthearted and entertaining spoof that combines the charm of "Murder, She Wrote" with the delightful world of baking. It offers a mix of humor, mystery, and scrumptious desserts, keeping audiences guessing until the very last crumb.

[morningmee]

Delicious 😋

Nathan Page & Essie Davis as Detective Inspector Jack Robinson and Miss Phryne Fisher 🎄  Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries 2.13 - Murder Under the Mistletoe

[thewardlowcollection]

A Baker's Dozen

The Librarians received the following note from @polstar2505

Can I make a request please? There are lots of amazing meals cooked by Mr Butler but are there any fics which are food orientated or include recipes? They don't even have to be smutty...

In response, we've put together a delectable smörgåsbord of tempting treats for your delight.

Of Biscuits and Kisses and Weights on Jack's Shoulders (2016) by @jeneenp/Collingwoodgirl, is the only fic we found that includes an actual recipe. It also has an insomniac Jack, covert baking and parlour sex. 

Kisses and caramels (2013) by DivineMissP -- a fic so hot, the caramel is actually melting whilst you're reading this.

Foreplay (2018) by @omgimsarahtoo, a Moroccan feast leaves Jack hungry for more.

Brownies and Icecream (2017) by Kashimalin, Jack learns there's a specific way to eat brownies.

More Than One Can Chew (2018) by titledsyollgism, Phryne is holding a party but Mr B is ill.

Smoke and Fire (2017) by @olderbynow, Jack had the gall to suggest that there was something Phryne couldn't do. She fully intended to prove him wrong, but it's possible that he wasn't.

Sure as Eggs is Eggs (2017) by Quailitea, the morning after includes bacon and eggs (as it always should).

(chop)Stuck on You (2016) by To_Brookwood, 1x08 "Away with the Fairies" scene continuation.

I Scream, You Scream (2018) by @jennysaisquoiff /aurora_australis is a delicious guessing game -- who would have thought ice cream detecting could really lay your soul bare?

Connoisseur (2014) by finnglas (mjules), five times Phryne bribed Jack with food, and one time Jane did.

Just Desserts (2017) by @teaandbanjo, Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson have a small disagreement about table manners and fairy cakes.

A Decadent Recipe (2016) by PlayfulMay, Jack teaches Phryne to make shepherd's pie.

Use Your Fingers (2018) by @inzannatea. Jack, Phryne, a closet and shepherd’s pie-- what more do you need?

Thanks so much for the ask @polstar2505, hopefully there's something in this selection that suits your appetite. The Librarians also want to mention the fabulous series Dining with Phryne by @leafingthroughbooksandtea where each episode's food and drink is identified - and recipes are included.

[foxspirit1928]

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson vs. Detective William Murdoch

Similarities –

1) Both are Men of Honor, seeing themselves as servants of the law, not its masters. 2) They possess the irresistible constabulary charm and maintain their sartorial elegance in fedoras and three-piece suits. 3) Each has a complicated partnership/friendship/relationship with a strong, independent, intelligent, and beautiful lady, who provides invaluable assistance to their investigations. 4) Both have a somewhat inexperienced yet keen and dutiful constable by their side who we just adore. 5) They are men of science, especially Murdoch. 6) Both are incredibly well-read, Jack of Shakespeare and Murdoch of, well, pretty much everything.

Differences –

1) Jack has an ex-wife who left him after his return from the Great War while Murdoch had never been to a war and had never been married when he met Julia because his fiancée died of an illness. 2) Murdoch is a devout Catholic, but Jack’s religion has never been clearly addressed on the show. 3) While Jack often indulges in nightcaps at Miss Fisher’s parlor, Murdoch does not drink. 4) Jack’s superior turns out to be a hypocritical, corrupted copper who hinders his investigations. Murdoch’s superior may seem rough on the surface (just like our gruffy cabbie, Bert) but is a decent police officer. He appreciates and relies on Murdoch’s ability to solve crimes and gives him the support and resources he needs. 5) The endless banters between Jack and Phryne are clever, delectable, and playful. The affection between Murdoch and Julia is more reserved, but they often unleash their passion via the fantasies in their heads, especially during the earlier seasons.

Bonus –

The men who portray them (Nathan Page as Jack and Yannick Bisson as Murdoch) are both avid cyclists in real life. @fangirlshandbag suggested a bike race between them called “The Battle of the Fictional Colonial Detectives” with Mark Williams (aka Father Brown) or David Suchet (aka Hercule Poirot) being the officiator. The proposal is brilliant, but I am afraid that the fandoms may combust as a result of such epic hotness.

(Posted 08-Aug-2017)

[theinsatiableacademic]

The Romantic Rumour Mill

A ficlet involving Var being extremely petty towards the Relentless Inspector, as a thank-you to @sinilakki for this beautiful portrait of Var

With mentions of the Inspector himself as well as Wan Bowler!

---

“Did you hear what Inspector Janvier got up to?”

“What, aside from always lookin’ like a bat’s after crapping in that tea of his?”

“That too. Nah mate, I mean a couple of days ago.”

Oho! This sounded like something worth knowing. Var tried to loiter as inconspicuously as possible in the station while eavesdropping, pretending to re-read the case files they had been asked to investigate. Not a bad thing, really, to work as a sometime detective with the Constables. Usually there were scraps of useful information to overhear, this time some delectable gossip.

“Don’t think I have.”

“Well wait ‘til you get a load of this one then. Apparently he goes chasing some poor sod who isn’t even wearing shoes all across the Flit, claps ‘em in a pair of handcuffs and hauls ‘em all the way back over here to Concord Square.”

So the Inspector handcuffed and arrested someone? Not unusual or interesting, except maybe to other bobbies - perhaps the lack of shoes…?

“When he’s asked what for he can’t say nothin’ except for looking suspicious and running away from ‘im. Meanwhile poor sod pipes up and claims they were running because he tried to propose to them and they couldn’t bear to face ‘im. Propose! Did you ever hear the like? Inspector said it was a misunderstanding, had to let ‘em go - nothin’ concrete to charge ‘em with - but I wonder.”

“Maybe there’s a heart beating in that tin can chest of his after all? Can’t decide whether that would be better or worse, honestly. Can you imagine him trying to WOO someone? Gives me the damn willies, so it does.”

The Inspector? Trying to woo someone? Could Var even imagine that…? Not in one hundred years. After Var bit their lip to stop from giggling and giving away their listening in, though, they had an idea of how they can use what they’ve heard. A cruel idea, oh yes, but the poor sod in that rumour wasn’t the only one who had been chased around by the Inspector for no good reason. Oh yes. They could have some proper sport with this.

Var listened in for another few minutes, opting to pretend that they were studying the board of case assignments as they did so. That happened to remind them of the occasion when they had to work together with the Inspector. Rather an awful pain, but at least they had gotten some amusement out of the Inspector’s displeasure at costume masquerades in general and his own costume in particular. Ah, and details about a potential ring of Spirifers to track down and… Deal with. But Var would have to wait to act on that until the old bloodhound would look a fool to accuse them of any involvement in the death of a Spirifer or two.

While idly pondering all that, Var picked up enough details from the officers’ conversation to start planning to put together a scathingly smug letter. Later back at their lodgings, ink drying on the page, they looked over the note and grinned in satisfaction at the thought of how poorly it would be received. Var did not actually believe the Inspector at all inclined towards romance, but writing to him as if they were of that assumption would surely cause the Inspector some sort of apoplexy when he read it. Ah, if only they could be there to see the Inspector open the note - at least without the risk of getting arrested immediately after.

“To the most esteemed Inspector in the force,

One is writing to express one’s heartfelt commiserations with you over the recent rejection of your advances by a potential suitor. One was unaware that you possessed the slightest sentimental bone in your body, or even a sliver of human affection to go along with it, but was pleasantly shocked to hear otherwise. As a result, one would ask why this romantic side has taken so long to manifest - lack of opportunity, perhaps?

One has always suspected that if anything you are married to your duty. It would certainly explain your ineptitude in recent attempts at wooing. Take courage, Inspector! For it is not so very different from assembling a case for court, to figure out how your object of affections might react to your overtures, nor is the language of the bouquet so very different from spies’ codes. To illustrate this point one is sending on a primer in the Neathy languages of romance, mushrooms chief amongst them. Perhaps through its study you will find it possible to approach your intended without them fleeing across the rooftops.

Yours in sympathy, An Acquaintance”

[jeyoteswritings-blog]

The Switch

And lo, when i first descended those Cold metal steps lay prone Waiting for my hesitant footsteps

An unease most uncanny, consciously Akin near to terror As those depths were unknown to I

The brevity of assignment above Vague instruction But as befitting, displayed no distress

Such was thy mood, leaving behind A life spent hitherto The opulent silver-gold towers of pleasure

And what i said unto those stoic guardians Barring egress to the underneath "I bear unto you the seal official of potentate"

And thus a knowledge and familiarity Of an epoch of man's potential reached Thy premonition was gradually crumbled

For those silver-gold towers of leaders few Glisten in bright alimentary light And alight upon its surface those of beauty

Thou'st noble citizen belonging to these Embark to the hidden place Resting thither beneath palace foundations

The first level underground

Thine ears detected first, aberrant sound Rythmic, driving rumble Shrill and cutting melody wrapped within

Stepping into an enormous room slate Individuals attentive and earnest As a giant workroom, accosted thine eyes

Countless wonders beheld as those Artisans, in their profilic flurry Born of wit and intelligence, yet unveiled

Thy senses overcome, attention drawn first To works of aesthetic beauty Art of the like familiar, yet avant-garde

Of the many, few do i have space to describe As that of a flowing green mural Or the one of interactive spartan desert

Delectable these works, yet more evident Machines form-wraught Commisioned, golden and spectacular!

For one who in life built and built Therron, praised and widely-sought Fashioned a great glittering wheel

A tongue familiar, like the treasures surround Yet discordant, and realization Years-old cybernetics this one possessed

Thus he spake: "achievement for Thou to gaze upon In splendid glory, the chariot of empyrean!"

To which i replied: "for thee unparalled Such an undertaking of effort Why doest though struggle and toil so?"

At the query posed, a look of such Abashment swiftly on The face of the great creator, and puzzlement

A reply swift: "toil not do i, for knowledge That my works adoringly may be Considered by protecters and leaders above"

I bade farewell to Therron, this master This architect of wonders And his dated cybernetics exterior

The second level underground

Upon the hiss of entrance strode i Through mechanized portal And was dumbstruck of sensations

Such heat! Such steam! And stark grayness Here was a room of such Expansiveness than the last was overwhelmed

Though perspiration pooled uncomfortably On thy brow, i continued And rapid metal-joined-metal all around

Verily here were the foundations of industry! And such materials once-terran Through miles of manufactre transform

Traversed did i, the rows and rows gleaming Bright metal against lurid grey vast Accosted thine ears were, screech and keen!

After such a time, whens't thine feet had Grown quite weary and fear swell'd That i would ever reach an end or exit here!

Hitherto ignored by the scurrying laborers Out of the shining gloom And cacophony, emerg'd a large figure

An aura of command, this man compelled Fury-driven proletariats All bearing such ancient cybernetic augments!

'Neath a swarthy tangle of beard flame-red A massive body set upon Rolling chassis, a voice like the darkest cavern:

"All ye who are immersed here, avast! Machines manifest machines Indiscriminate, they are! Avast i say!"

And verily i spake unto him, this overseer "Why doest thou struggle so? who are these wretched souls that toil thus?"

"This! This rightly is how thou'st has originated so. Work never stops, I toil thusly brothers can remain firmament"

For it seems that this endless fabrication Resulting in static, obsolete Cybernetics for all who dwell 'neath this level

I took my leave and descended down, down

The third through seventh level underground

Through corridors dimly lit i wandered And briefly paused To revel at such poverty i divined, as i passed

What could be such a cause, as these Inhabitants were poorly mended and I saw such horrors

Rended flesh shoddily fused to parts Inferior, and perpetual Hunger, for nutrient, for shelter, for tech!

Round and round, these destitute corridors As if unending And all throughout, wails and groans met

Grey and green walls warped hideously In disrepair Profusely dripping yellow oil-slime from above

And sharply a nefarious stench became Thine nostrils That i could hardly breathe, think, move!

For aeons it seemed that i crept and Throughout, witnessed Such revulsions i can scarcely recount

Denizens of this wretched place dwell'd In such squalor Wherein the weak preyed on the weaker

Many a writhing body i did see, missing then An arm, or leg! Cybernetic theft left them immobile!

Verily have i since blocked from my Concious thought, An exchange with one of these wretches

The dirt and grime lay thick upon its brow And raiment That only close inspection revealed a woman

Weeping, she spake thus: "my child!... My baby!... Taken away..." to which i replied, sympathetic:

"Where has your child gone, poor creature?" Voice: of sadness and fury: "He was worth 500 credits to recycle!"

Fleeing in my consternation, The poor woman's Screams of lament hounded my footsteps

Blindly, i stumbled and fell Into a gaping maw Appearing forth from the grimy floor

Alighting upon a rough surface, Complete darkness I perceived, but for glowing dots 'round me

Eventually thine sight returned and i Found myself Atop a morass of junk and parts

Horribly, this mound of rubble moved 'neath Twitching... Forever twitching! Arms! Cybernetic legs 'twixt torsoless heads!

Alas! This was a refuse pile for the damned, Obsolete human parts Some still had life 'neath cybernetic eyes

They watched, and twitched as thou Can imagine As fast a speed as i dared, stumbled away

An eternity seemingly it was, til i Reached the bottom Of the terrible morass, implications dawned

The final chamber

A cavern thusly traversed, til naught an exit Could be seen But for a pair of large iron-wraught doors

Brazenly, i pushed apart these iron barriers And then, a shock A scene most surreal appeared before me

The most gargentuan chamber discovered A massive central column Power pulsing immensely, and attached...

Brains! Four of them, gigantic and bloated Fat wires crawled To the column from pods where they floated

Upon my entry, and surprised immobility They soon beheld And buzzed with light as a booming voice:

"You who have entered the inner sanctum From where and why Have you saught us out?" I answered then,

"I...i was assigned an inspection The underground And the occupants therein, and report back"

"And what is it you will report, inspector? We know much Even now, we sense your misgivings."

"It is true, although i cannot heretofore Doubt any ruling Of a governing body, as you must be

I must protest the mistreatment and Neglect of those Unfortunate to find themselves obsolete!"

The brains laughed as one, a grotesque, Computer static "Who are you to make such statements!

As humans who have sought to achieve Perfection! We all wanted more, thusly cybernetics

Wheretofore, a new evolution emerged And those With the means to keep themselves current,

They live on. While those without Do not As you just witnessed, humanity's folly"

A horrid revelation, yet even so i noticed As the brains spoke A giant red switch, integrated in the column

The last words i have been recorded to speak: "If you are the masterminds Of such a system, then OFF with you!"

Wild, computer static-laughter: "you fool! Do you not realize Shutting us down will shut down everything!

Even your own cybernetic body!"

O F F

[backslashn]

Cultist Simulator, Day 3

Continued from Day 2

12:26 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Got my complaints about Cultist Simulator's user experience, but I'll say this: it hasn't crashed once in 25 hours of play.

12:57 PM - 3 Jun 2018

RIP Elridge. The Lanterns will guide you beyond the Mansus.

Elridge, skilled in the Edge aspect, had seen us past countless enemies on expeditions, and captured or dispatched at least half a dozen Hunters who imperiled us. But this time he never returned, and the Hunter remains.

1:08 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Oh no, we're fucked. After Elridge failed, I sent Victor after the Weary Detective too.

Victor has not returned.

Fuck.

1:16 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I am hiring Professional Muscle now to deal with this tenacious Hunter. I ought never to have risked my Disciples on such mundane errands.

I have learnt this harsh lesson now, but too late.

1:37 PM - 3 Jun 2018

And now the Professional Muscle also has failed to return! Has the Weary Detective defeated him too, or merely bribed him? Does it matter?

I, too, am Weary: of this Hunter and his seeming imperviousness. But I have no more earthly forces to send after him.

And so I shall have to use Unearthly force.

I have summoned a demon of Edge and Winter. This detective will not survive. Of this I am certain.

3:05 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Did the demon seek to twist my words and subvert my commands? The detective still lives. But captured, now. I shall leave him sweltering in my dungeons.

3:07 PM - 3 Jun 2018

While one weary detective lies shuddering and forgotten in a blind cell, another has arisen to trouble us.

What ardour drives these fellows? Why do they recklessly ignore the fate of their forebears? With a sigh, I send my demon out on the errand again.

This one did not survive. My demon returned grinning, matched by the rictus of the detective's corpse.

3:33 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I have rearranged my cards so I can see what Lore I am missing, and what Lore I can upgrade or subvert. And also to align the many Tools and Ingredients I have with the Lore of the same Aspect.

And only now do I realise that they are colour-coded by their Aspects.

Another thing I've learned recently: send demons away on expeditions, they're really good at dealing with obstacles 😅

3:44 PM - 3 Jun 2018

But not quite good enough.

O my arch-demon of Edge and Winter! O slayer of Hunters and devourer of shins! O ice-cold eyes and frozen heart! You have vanished in the forest, and gone wherever lost demons go.

3:58 PM - 3 Jun 2018

And what became of the detective I imprisoned? I woke one night whelmed in exotic cravings. An urgent need to speak with the prisoner. All through the night we talked: debating, reasoning, arguing. When dawn came my mind was once more at rest—and the prisoner no more to be seen.

4:06 PM - 3 Jun 2018

And the second demon I sent on the expedition? It also failed to return. These vertiginous blundering diaboli are as useless as my feeble craving disciples. If they had not already perished, I would vent my wrath upon them now!

The funniest thing about that is I only sent them on the expedition because it was there, and because I could. I didn't have any need compelling me to. 😂

4:10 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I have now learnt a fifth dead language: Phrygian. Three books written in it are awaiting translation.

Meanwhile I dream through the Stag's Door in search of powerful Influences; and continue my slow and painful exegesis of the lesser Lores in search of the key to the next door.

4:43 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Another weary detective is dogging my steps, somehow tirelessly. I hired a hulking fellow to go bother him, but without much hope of success.

Yet the fellow returned, bearing a body.

4:45 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Now I begin a newly-learned rite: I am calling on the Cartographer of Scars to animate the thing into shambling half-life. Perhaps it will be useful for odd jobs around the house.

4:53 PM - 3 Jun 2018

The rite failed. The corpse arose, but could not be controlled. Not allowing myself to panic, I used my intellect to banish it.

The rite was a failure, but nothing of value was lost. Perhaps my next attempt will succeed better.

5:09 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I tried to summon another Maid-in-the-Mirror to take on dangerous tasks. The ritual wavered; I continued the invocation more passionately, but to no avail. The creature is loose. It seeks something mortal to devour. I may have only seconds left.

5:13 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I am spared! It whispered past me, fluttering through the air in search of sustenance. Of all the disciples it could have taken in its jaws, it has chosen the most powerful, who was deepest initiated into our mysteries. It has taken Cat Caro, my Seer, and is devouring her.

I shall have to get the health and safety inspectors in to see if there's a better way of containing these demons. I can't afford to lose disciples like this: what would become of my cult without followers?

(This is actually a very significant loss: there are very few followers who are able to be promoted to Seer. Cat Caro was one; another perished in an expedition before I had discovered the ceremonies to uplift Seers. There is one more: my last Seer. I hope he lives.

5:21 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Wait, what is this? The demon has been entrammelled again, and banished. And Cat Caro lives! What occulted power does she wield?

And here I was thinking "Seer" was not much more than a ceremonial title.

6:12 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Grinding, grinding, grinding.

Upgrading and subverting lore to try to find the one I need.

Passing the time by summoning more demons and hiring more thugs, and sending them on expeditions.

It's all quite tedious.

Who'd have thought being a cult leader would be so unglamorous?

6:22 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Have I said much about the writing in Cultist Simulator? It's rich and intense, even though it's not drenched in words as Sunless Sea was. Not a full buffet, but a platter of delectable treats.

6:48 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Cultist Simulator protip: if you ever feel stuck and don't know what to do next, do the ritual to summon one of these:

It won't actually give you any clues, but maybe the summoning will go wrong and you'll end up with a different problem to distract you 😈

7:36 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I have uncovered a new source of vitality that had hitherto been hidden. It's of uncertain reliability and takes a somnolent quantity of time to pursue, but may be of value if utilised on top of the usual fresh air and exercise.

At around the same time, I chanced upon a marvelous, delicate technique that can preserve a little vitality far beyond its normal duration!

Using all these things in concert, I have succeeded in increasing my health to a robust five. I fancy I can increase it at will in future.

Even more vital than that, I have—after long and arduous research and cross-referencing—discovered the entrance to the Spider Door. I wonder what biquadrupedal revelations are preserved beyond it?

9:23 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I have found my way from the Spider Door to the Peacock's Door. "The Peacock's Door does not open, exactly." What, exactly does it do?

I am afraid to find out.

9:47 PM - 3 Jun 2018

I've encountered a bug in Cultist Simulator about five times: if autosave happens to kick in while a window is being opened or closed (it was Talk this time, but happened with many), then the game stops responding to mouse clicks. Have to save then reload to fix.

In more detail: when the bug happens, the window (if it was opening) disappears. And the game doesn't stop responding to mouse clicks entirely: it just thinks every mouse click is for info on something in the window, so just shows an info window.

So I can't click on any cards, or pan around the desk, or anything like that.

The HUD still works, so I can save & quit. Then when I reload the game, it loads with the window in question visible, and everything's back to normal.

9:56 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Anyway, bugs aside…

I've got a pretty strong team for this expedition, although it seems they forgot to bring matches.

10:07 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Odd. My hireling and my demons came back from that expedition with their timers rounded up to the nearest minute: two of them were back to their full 180s timers, one at 120s, and one (that had been close to expiry) at 60s.

10:20 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Oh no. I'm fucked, aren't I?

10:30 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Maybe… maybe not? "I Am Seeing Things" finishes collecting the third Fascination in 3.6s. Meanwhile my desperate dreams of Reason have led me into nightmares, which will deliver a Dread in 6s. Will that be what I need?

And right this instant the Moth principle has served up a Restlessness for old unhappy far-off things: which in another 60s will decay into Dread too.

Maybe, just maybe, I can survive the Visions? I am about to unpause and find out.

10:33 PM - 3 Jun 2018

In 1.9 seconds my Dream will end, delivering the Dread I need just in time. I'm not dead yet, thank the Hours.

I will still need to find at least one more dread. Time for more reasonable dreams—and hope they don't end in Fascination. It was one such not very long ago that supplied the second Fascination for those visions, in fact! 😱

10:41 PM - 3 Jun 2018

The crisis is over, but the danger is not yet abated.

Even as I dream, I continue my translations from Fucine (the sixth dead language I learned, the language of witches) as my minions pursue their expedition in The Rending Mountains (three thousand mile—or was it years?—away).

I guess I should count myself lucky that this was the first time my Visions had encompassed three Fascinations.

And even more lucky that the Moth principle turned up (I'm not sure where from) with that Restlessness while the Visions were rising, and that my Dreams rolled the Dread I needed.

All in all, that's the closest I've come to death in about 35 hours of play (yes, this is still my first game of Cultist Simulator).

From what others have told me of their games, death usually comes much more often, and much sooner.

10:59 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Well, I'm still trying to get more Dread, and meanwhile another Fascination has turned up. So I'm back to two! 😢

11:01 PM - 3 Jun 2018

And another Moth has flown by, delivering another Restlessness. There is something more than chance at work here, I am sure of it.

11:06 PM - 3 Jun 2018

While I was working on the Visions crisis, yet another Hunter turned up on my tail. I ignored him for a while, since my minions were busy and I had more important things to worry about.

But he's still there now, and I was about to send a nasty demon after him—but first I looked up other ways to get Dread [yes, 35 hours in I'm okay with looking up the odd tip], and turns out—I'd even done this earlier in the game but forgotten!—that talking to a Hunter about Winter lore has a chance to terrify them. And doing so will always produce Dread. Bingo!

11:14 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Oh dear. I was so caught up with the Visions, that I failed to pay attention to my Affliction getting worse. It has now matured into Decrepitude, decreasing my health.

Fortunately I know of a ritual that can help here…

11:15 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Haha, my latest dream of Reason has also descended into a nightmare which will produce Dread. I'm going to have too much of it 😅

At least the odd Dread is easy enough for an artist to deal with.

Right, that's enough talking specifics of the game. Back to vagaries!

11:34 PM - 3 Jun 2018

So I managed to dispel those Visions, but more have arisen. And the rite to defeat my decrepitude is feeding them.

Whoops.

Maybe that excess of Despair I have is also lucky! 😂

11:35 PM - 3 Jun 2018

Oh wait…

These new Visions are of a different sort. Something I've never encountered before. Something I don't begin to understand.

1:03 AM - 4 Jun 2018

I have passed the Peacock's Door. I have seen the Worm Museum and the Red Church. I have learnt a sixth dead language, although perhaps one that does not die: "Before gods arose from blood, before ever ape stood upright, this was the language heard in the House of the Sun."

1:10 AM - 4 Jun 2018

The slowest and painfullest grind in Cultist Simulator is the Lore upgrade. Six 30-second stages, three of which demand a perishable resource—Erudition or Glimmering—or Reason. If you can't meet the demands of each stage as it arises, you usually fail and must start over.

It's definitely easier to obtain Lore from books, if you can find them, and if you can read them. But high level Lore is rare even from books.

And it's never been clear to me which Lore I'm actually going to need: so I'm trying to get the highest level of each. Perhaps overkill.

2:43 AM - 4 Jun 2018

Whoa whoa whoa! I have just discovered that you can PREDICT when things like Despair and Visions are coming up in the next minute.

Click on the Time tile and the next thing due is shown on the right hand side! My mind is blown.

And it only took me 40 hours of playing to notice!

5:12 AM - 4 Jun 2018

I just summoned my first Percussigant, and its description made me laugh aloud.

I'm not telling you what it was: you're going to have the joy of discovering it for yourself. 😄

5:22 AM - 4 Jun 2018

I've hit another huge plateau. For I-don't-know-how-long I've been pretty stuck. I've passed the time with expeditions and upgrading Lore as much as I can, but I'm not making forward progress towards anything.

I want to try to find the Tricuspid Gate, but haven't a clue how to get there. The Peacock Door doesn't seem to lead there, cause the only cards I can use with the Peacock Door just take me to the Mansus.

There's two other hints of something I'm missing: I have discovered just one book in yet another dead language, but no idea where to learn how to translate it.

And I found a Gold Spintria, but have no possible use for it. Oh, except as a mediocre ritual ingredient I guess.

I can't believe this is still going on in Day 4

[loradmurphy]

Top Hen Party Activities in Dublin

This post Top Hen Party Activities in Dublin first appeared on The Wedding Community Blog

Dublin is full of gorgeous Irish men, exciting activities and great craic. So much so in fact, it sees thousands of hen parties annually descend upon its lively cobbled streets. With everything from wild and whacky Alice in Wonderland themed afternoon teas, to the honed and toned guys of the Pleasure Ladies Show, Dublin is the city to please. Sarah of Last Night of Freedom rounds up Dublin’s top hen party activities for a truly memorable weekend…

The Morgan Bar – Mad Hatter’s Afternoon Tea

Dive head-first down the rabbit hole into the wonderfully whacky world of the Mad Hatter and his friends.

Full of ridiculous riddles, mysteries and delicious nibbles, the The Morgan Bar will transport you and your hens to a different world. There’s dainty sandwiches, delectable scones and devilish cakes, all to the magical backdrop of Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece.

Guinness Factory Tour and Connoisseur Experience

When visiting Dublin you simply cannot miss Ireland’s number one tourist attraction, the Guinness Storehouse.

The building itself is designed in the shape of a huge pint glass, so huge it could hold 14.3 million pints. Your journey will take you through the brewing and fermenting processes, advertising through the ages, a Connoisseur tasting experience, and end in the ‘head’ of the pint glass, The Gravity Bar, for a well-deserved drink.

Pleasure Ladies Show

No hen party is worth its salt without gorgeous naked men. Fact.

The Pleasure Ladies Show in Dublin is exactly what your hen party needs. These Greek Gods have rippling muscles and sexy dance moves, keeping you and the girls thoroughly entertained. There’s even a hilarious drag queen compare to rouse you and the crowd up into a frenzy. Oh, and there’s also bubbly on arrival and a hot and cold buffet – could this night get any better?

Irish Dance Party

There’s more to a Dublin hen party than getting legless in the Temple Bar (although that’s essential too).

Embrace local culture as you immerse yourselves in a traditional Irish dance party. It’s a fantastic way to learn all about your host city and perfect a few dance moves you can use later on in the night. It’s a win-win.

You’ll learn three dances from professional choreographers, some of which have even starred in Riverdance itself. Prepare for a lively evening of Irish songs, instruments, dancing, comedy, and even a splash of history thrown in for good measures.

CSI – Save the Groom

Become fully-fledged members of CSI, as you and the girls intensely investigate the groom’s kidnapping. Dun dun dunnn.

This is one of the most popular hen party activities in Ireland’s capital, and is done in a hilarious tongue-in-cheek manner. With the help of a Garda inspector, you and the girls will become detectives for the day and follow the trail of clues to rescue the kidnapped groom. As an added bonus, the winning team gets a bottle of Prosecco. Result.

Guest Post by Sarah Main of Last Night of Freedom

This post Top Hen Party Activities in Dublin first appeared on The Wedding Community Blog

[morningmee]

Keep 'em coming 🔥💋🫠❤️

Come after me, Jack Robinson.

(because context is everything)

[morningmee]

Good god 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The air is incendiary 💥🔥💥🔥🔥

And what is his HAND up to 💥

Jack. Miss Fisher. You do indeed keep close company these days.

[foxspirit1928]

Miss Fisher Random Thoughts (287) - In the Name of Jack Robinson

In “For the Love of Phrack (5)”, I mentioned the expression of “(something is done) faster than you can say Jack Robinson” (link to Wikipedia here) and wondered if Kerry Greenwood chose the name deliberately. I don’t have the answer because I still haven’t finished reading all the books. Then again, I don’t know if the books would provide the answer anyway, so I decided to share my random thoughts and findings here. As usual, you are more than welcomed (strongly encouraged, actually) to share your thoughts.

1) I chuckled when I learned the meaning of “faster than you can say Jack Robinson” because Phryne can roll “City South Police Station, Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson” off her tongue mighty fast. It would not be an easy feat to get anything done faster than that!

2) In a recent audio interview, Nathan Page stated that “I wanted to give my Jack a stillness and gravitas to counter the whirlwind climate that Phryne creates around her” (see NathanPageTheActor.com, under News/Events), so TV!Jack had deliberate placidity in his speech and movement. Of course, this statement has nothing to do with the expression of “faster than you can say Jack Robinson”, but I found the contrast amusing.

3) A while ago someone shared a recipe called “Jack Robinson Cake” on the DI Jack Appreciation Society Facebook page (link to the recipe here). Unlike Dot, I am not a baker, so I have not been motivated enough to make it even though it’s supposed to be an easy recipe. If you do try it, please let us know if it’s as delectable as our beloved DI Jack Robinson.

(Posted 17-Aug-2017)

[morningmee]

He learnt from the master herself 😏

Jack Robinson Perching™ 

[morningmee]

I had seen and enjoyed Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries.

But since I for work related safety didn't have social media at all, I never realised that there was a community and indeed a rabbit hole to be lost in.

And international appreciation of strong and independent women.

Not to mention scores of others who are equally taken by Big strong HANDS and dulcet voices.

Where have you been all my life ❤️

🎉🍸 three years ago I went down the Miss Fisher rabbit hole 🍸🎉

Miss Fisher's murder mysteries | 3*08