#upon further investigation and with the help of these other additions the evidence says that dave is in fact innocent

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[moxfirefly]

So I’ve been working on this for a little while now after a comment @supershiny-raven left on one of my post. I present to you:

How the others find out you and the turtles are dating.

Raphael entered the Lair with you in his arms. His brothers stumbling by him, Leonardo actually tripping.

The gang had gone to drink at Vern’s fancy penthouse, a round of drinks had turned to four and before anybody had common sense he had broken out his fancy wine collection.

That had truly been everyone’s undoing.

Yours as well.

Raphael the tank had pretty much only gotten buzzed, even more so upon seeing your state he figured he needed to somehow get you and everyone else home safe and in one piece.

“Where do we dump Donnie?” April had one of his arms slung over her shoulder while Mikey had his other, they had quickly found out the purple banded terrapin was a fan of wine. “Whatever is flat and comfortable, you think you can manage him and Leo?” Raphael nudged his older brother who had dozed off while resting against the couch.

“Yeah yeah brah, we totally-“ He unceremoniously let his brother fall on the nearest cot, poor April taken along for the ride. “Shit, sorry girly”

Raph shook his head, you groaned stirring awake and tightening your hold on him. Raph was basically carrying you with one arm beneath your rear. Making his way towards his room he gently placed you on his bed and set about the task of removing your shoes. “Hey hey mister, I got a boyfriend” You squinted at the large terrapin at the end of the bed.

“Yeah I heard, lucky guy gets to put ya drunk ass to bed, where’s your makeup bag baby?” He got up when you half hazardously pointed at the dresser.

Pushing yourself up a little on your elbows you watched him gather your face creams and a pack of makeup wipes. He sat back down but next to you and motioned towards his lap. “C’mere, let’s get your face off” You giggled when he manhandled you onto his thigh and took out the wipes. Slowly and in the most excruciatingly loving way Raphael set out to wipe off your makeup. Each stroke removing foundation and eyeshadow, you mumbled something he somehow understood in your inebriated state. “Yeah yeah I got ya kid” With all the careful dexterity he developed over time, he gently removed your eyelashes.

“Somebody has been paying attention” You giggled, feeling the buzz in your body shift into grogginess. Raphael looked inside the bag, adding some cream to your face to hydrate it. He examined his work, a lazy smile as he caressed your face. It felt bizarre he could actually do this, touch a beautiful girl and do something so silly as help them out with their face routine. The two of you had been rather quiet about your relationship, enjoying it all to yourselves.

“Ya were the cutest drunk at that party” He ran his knuckles across your chin, You smiled sleepily lifting up enough to catch his lips in a languid kiss.

The door creaked open and there stood April, her own slightly drunk face breaking out into a sweet smile. The two pairs of eyes that landed on her read ‘get out’ and ‘keep your mouth shut’ slowly April backed up nodding with a giggle.

Then there was a ruckus of what Raphael only assumed was April tripping and Leo drunkly laughing his ass off.

____________

Michelangelo

Oh he was screwed.

So insanely screwed.

How could he misplace something he kept on his person so diligently?

Mikey turned over everything he could in his room, currently he had done just that with the mattress but to no avail.

His phone was missing.

His phone with that very scandalous polaroid you’d taken for him.

Mikey had nearly passed out when you gifted him the picture and to his delight he had stuck the polaroid on the back of his phone in its clear phone case. He kept his phone on him all the time, sure he’d have to be a little sneaky about placing it down but he could manage.

Now though? He was about to have a coronary.

Okay, currently in this disaster there was no trace of it. This meant he’d have to scavenge the living room.

Where his family was.

Mikey swallowed and scurried out with a silent prayer that it would there.

Raphael and Leonardo were currently watching a basketball game. They seemed pretty engrossed and perhaps wouldn’t notice that he was scouring the ends of the earth for his actual girlfriend’s literal boobs. He peaked aglance at the couch, his large brothers had to take up so much space to make it worse.

“What are you looking for?” Came Donnie’s voice from the kitchen. The orange banded turtle froze, he tried giving him a nonchalant shrug. “Just checking how I can give Raph a wedgie ya know” Donnie raised a brow ridge, mug of coffee to his lips.

“I double dare ya numbnuts, the Knicks are down ten points and I’m pissed” Raph grunted as the opposing team landed another shot and Leo sighed exasperated with the outcome. His eldest brother got up thankfully which allowed him to take a look at the that side of the sofa. To his dread but relief there wasn’t anything.

Where the fuck was his phone?!

“Hey snot face, can ya order a pizza?” Raph grumbled as the game seem to worsen, a pizza could fix up his mood. Mikey frozen, mouthing a series of ‘shit shit shit’ as he frantically looked around.

“Oh man that would fix this terrible game, can you order it with extra bacon too?” Leo went straight to the fridge to grab something to drink. “Order some cheesy sticks too will you?” Donnie asked as he poured himself another mug of coffee.

Yes all of this sounded wonderful and his stomach did grumble but

HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS.

Raph had scooted further to grab his own soda from the coffee table and just as he did he saw his phone. Relief washed over him but to his immense dismay and terror, the back of his phone was facing up. Which means the clear case he had was displaying the infamous polaroid he had been gifted.

You had simply asked him one thing.

‘Please don’t let your brothers see my tits’

It all felt slow motion, his eyes going wide, his hand diving to the couch and just as he did, Raph’s quick reflexes kicked in unfortunately and he turned to grab his youngest brothers wrist. “Ya ain’t giving me a wedgie man!!”

Raph’s eyes followed Mikey’s hand and then his eyes bugged out.

“Why are there titties on the sofa?!” Raph made for the phone but only got a face full of pillow cushion. He snatched the phone before it could be grabbed by anybody else. The red banded brute grinned as his brother hugged the phone to his chest. “Advert your gaze you perv!” Mikey all but shrieked.

“I’m not the one walking around with a titty pic as my phone cover” Raph grinned, just to make matters worse Leo and Donnie had gathered.

“Mikey why are you walking around with a random porn pic on your phone cover” Came Donnie’s disapproving tone.

“It’s a polaroid” Was all Raph needed to say.

The silence that fell was brief, then a series of ‘ooh’s’ sounded off and Mikey all but frowned and felt his cheeks heat up.

“No way! That can’t be...” Leo was incredulous. The relationship between Mike and you had remained rather on the down low. It was fun, a little secret away from the world that could stay between the two of you.

“Mikey, are you and y/n a thing?” Donnie asked exactly what the rest wanted to know but Mikey dreaded to answer. He sighed dramatically and tucked his phone into his pocket, shooting Raph a glare as his green eyes followed the motion.

“Listen dudes she made me promise that nobody would see that picture and I’ve already broken that cardinal rule thanks to this jerk face” He frowned at Raph, who in turn rolled his eyes.

“Well maybe keep the picture in your wallet or your room?” Leo sipped his soda with a matter of fact tone.

“Or as a background on your phone cause honestly man” Donnie smiled to himself when Mikey shot him an incredulous look. “Why’d she give you that?” Raph inquired sneakily with a smirk.

“For our three month anniver- AH YOU DICK” Mikey huffed out as Raph began to laugh, it was so easy to trick Mikey when one played their cards right.

____________

Donatello

Investigating could take a toll on anybody, even if by all means you weren’t a detective it still didn’t mean you wouldn’t find yourself researching and investigating crime. It seems to be part of the job description when you befriend four giant crime fighting terrapins.

In away you could help, you did.

Everyone had huddled around the living room, the coffee table littered with pictures, clues and all sorts of pieces of evidence that could possibly lead to the culprit they were trying to catch. You had set down a stack of papers, eyes already screaming for a break. Leo and Casey were at the kitchen talking, Casey had just clocked out and was reporting back what the nights investigations had gathered. Raph and Mikey were checking out the pictures Casey had brought over and Donnie naturally was researching on a laptop he’d placed there.

You had nudged him to come over and join the huddle, and secretly you just wanted him close. The two of you were dating, quietly and unannounced, but in those first few stages of just wanting to be glued to one another it was a little difficult to do said glueing.

On a few occasions with prying eyes preoccupied with their investigating, you had reached over to rub his cheek, his sleepy eyes spoke greatly of how tired he felt. Donnie had been at this already for a while, you’d been there with him along the way.

With a stretch of his arms, Donnie yawned and rolled his neck. The clock on your phone read 3:45am, he was due for a nap at the very least. “Why don’t you lie down, I can keep helping out here” You reached over again and took off his glasses, he smiled tiredly but shook his head. “I’m fine, I can keep going” Despite his entire body language screaming otherwise, Donnie would always soldier on.

By the time another hour passed, people consumed enough Coffee to give themselves an additional pulse (and somebody committed the mistake of giving Mikey said coffee) the investigation had died down. A few walls were hit but a few leads had come from it as well. Everyone was ready to call it a night (or morning).

Casey yawned, twisting his neck to let out a few pops. “Okay who’s staying and who’s coming with me?” By the sounds of April softly snoring against an equally happily snoring Raph, it seemed she would stay. Casey had a few hours of sleep to catch on before heading for his next shift and you had to preoccupy yourself with the same before tackling a night shift at your job. Donnie’s tired eyes expressed how he wanted you to stay over but he knew work was closer to your place.

“I guess I’m carpooling with you” You told Casey, already grabbing your jacket and bag. A quick hug to Leo and Mikey, a bow to a recently awaken Splinter and you were next to Donnie.

He’d been sitting on the kitchen table, arms crossed and looking closer to being k.o’d.

It was the sleep deprivation honestly, on both your behalves.

Because you had spread your arms for a hug and so had he, but your face had met in the middle and before either of your foggy brains could comprehend what was happening you had smooched him.

On the lips.

For about a minute.

Minute and a half honestly.

You both froze, the awake members of the family staring with raised brows. Donnie furrowed his brows, lips pursed in a thin line, you still had your own in a kissing motion.

“Well at least we solved one mystery tonight” Spoke Mikey with a snicker, Leo nudged him.

Donnie sighed by shrugged. “Not exactly how I wanted to announce this so yup, I’m her boyfriend, she’s my girlfriend, please hold all inquires for a later time when I’m actually awake” He pulled you in again for a hug, and another kiss (greedy boy) and instructed Casey to deliver you home safely.

With a blush but albeit happy look on your face you waved everyone off.

___________

Leonardo

Keeping a relationship quiet had never proven to be so difficult. Truthfully it came easier when the circle of people surrounding you was bigger, but a close knit one? Everyone suddenly had the powers of observation up to God level.

But Leo’s ninja skills were God level too and you knew how to keep your trap shut and not sigh like a love struck teenager every second you saw him. So it had gone good, real good for a while. The thrill of maybe sharing an intimate kiss while others we’re around was a sensation you never expected to enjoy. When it was time to leave, Leo would ‘walk you’ home safely and by ‘miracle’ run into a few thugs on his way back.

Because there’s no reason a brisk ten minute walk to your apartment should turn into an hour and a half.

Raph wasn’t buying but cared little to stick his nose into it. Donnie was too busy to bother. Mikey had an idea but decided due to bro code not to voice it.

His father though?

Splinter knows what’s going on because well, he’s Splinter. You live long enough with four giant sons all with their unique personalities and traits, you pick up a thing or two about parenting pretty easily.

And Splinter is a phenomenal parent.

Both Father and Mother to his sons.

So naturally he’s irked that his eldest is sneaking out at odd hours and trying to conceal his return. Because Splinter feels that out of all four, Leo has always been the most open with him. Once Raph hit those pre-pubescent mood swings, Donnie began to teach himself all matter of subjects and Mikey was too busy trying to set a new record of heart attacks to give his father while skateboarding; Leo always remained the same.

Even with all the acolytes Leo has achieved in his ninjutsu training, he still had his hiccups and his father would never spare the opportunity to turn into a teaching moment.

So when Leo had kissed you passionately on his way out of your window, you still in nothing but the skin that he had dedicated a fair amount of time in kissing and bitting. He thought he was being slick, he thought he was going to ninja his way into the Lair, into the showers and straight to his bed.

What he didn’t account for was his father waiting up on him. A mug of hot tea on the kitchen table and hands clasps together in what Leo recognized all to well as ‘Dad Mode’.

He’d been caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar. His gear was half hazardously on, mask slipped down around his neck and for Christ sake he was holding a shoe. It was 6:30am and he smelled like a girl, a pretty girl no less. The jig was up, especially when his dad motioned for him to come forth and seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

“Dad I can ex-“ Splinter held up a finger and pushed the mug of tea towards his disheveled eldest son.

“My son, I am not angry” Which was truthful, he wasn’t, in fact he was ecstatic that Leo had found somebody, somebody good and somebody that loved him for he has. Long ago he had accepted the pain that his sons would not find suitable partners and the ache it would come with for them. But here was Leo, nervous and trying to adjust his clothing because he’d been with a woman, a woman he clearly loved.

“I like y/n, she is kind, thoughtful and caring to us” Splinter emphasized each trait with a tap of a long nail on the table. “She should be treated with respect, I hope I have instilled that teaching unto you, a lady is to be respected Leonardo” Leo nodded at his fathers words, he nodded and prayed that the underwear he had stuffed into his pockets wouldn’t magically transport on the table to further humiliate him.

“So please my son, do not lie to me, do not come home late in this state and not expect me to know what has transpired” Dad voice was on, coupled with the sympathetic eyes though, man Splinter was good at this shit.

Leo hung his head, clearly ashamed of his dishonorable doings. “Hai, sensei” Even as an adult being scolded by his father never stopped hurting.

“And please do tell her that there isn’t anything hide, she is welcomed in our home, I would not mind getting to know my future daughter in law a little bit more” Splinter enjoyed the way his son nearly choked on his tea.

“Perhaps I can tell her a few anecdotes of your growing up” He smiled when Leo looked at him with pleading eyes. “I believe I have a few embarrassing ones she will find most delightful” He stood up and placed a hand on his sons broad shoulder. “I’m sorry dad, sorry for sneaking around and not telling you” He was earnest in his words and Splinter bowed his head.

“I know, thank you Leonardo” He walked away, hands behind his back.

Leo sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting you a quick text.

-so my dad wants to formally meet you... as in introduce you as my girlfriend.

It felt nice to hit send on that message.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

 LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

[ammocharis]

Dragon Age OC as a companion

I saw the “OC as a companion” trend started by @little-lightning-lavellan and I really wanted to hop on with my Avvar girl, Vatna, who is normally the Inquisitor and the protagonist of my fic, Watch the Skies. So here it goes! (Heads up - it got pretty long!)

~~

Vatna (born 9:23 Dragon) is an Avvar mage and a potential companion in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Title: Sky Watcher’s apprentice

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Class: Mage

Affiliation: Avvar, Inquisition (conditional)

Family: Einar (father), Selke (mother), Hirka (sister)

Background

Vatna Einarsdotten Selkesdotten was born in an Avvar settlement called Two Falcon Hold, where she lived until adulthood. Two Falcon Hold is located in the highest part of the Frostback Mountains. It is largely isolated from the outside world; the news arrives through dwarven merchants and Avvar pathfinders, which resulted in Vatna not having any first-hand experience of the Lowlands.

As a seven year old child, Vatna manifested magical ability, and thus she was linked to a spirit, as is customary among the Avvar. The spirit began teaching Vatna how to control her gift. She received lessons in healing, casting barriers, glyph-making, and other types of skills, but she specialized in offensive magic. She displayed an aptitude for elemental magic, particularly the spells associated with cold.

Several years later, with the basic part of her training complete, Vatna peacefully separated from her spirit teacher. Proving herself as a talented mage, she was chosen to become the next Sky Watcher in her hold, and so she continued studying diligently under the augur’s tutelage.

Vatna also underwent a warrior’s training, combining the skillset of a mage with that of a melee fighter. Her weapon of choice is an axe instead of a staff, though she is proficient at using either. After her appointment as the Sky Watcher’s apprentice, Vatna commissioned a battle axe with a lyrium core from the dwarves of Orzammar.

In 9:41 Dragon, a few weeks before the Conclave, Vatna ventured outside of her hold, travelling through the Lowlands for the first time in her life. Her only companion was a falcon called Himnar.

Involvement

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Once the Inquisitor returns from the Hinterlands, a new portion of the Haven map opens up. Vatna can be found on a mountain range located south-east of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She is fighting demons that are pouring from a large rift. Once the Herald closes the rift, Vatna voices her astonishment at their ability to mend the Veil. In the following conversation, the Avvar mage explains that she was on the way to Haven when the Breach opened. She claims that she’s been trying to fix the situation on her own, with little success. She is accompanied by a peregrine falcon that appears to be exceptionally well-trained. The Herald can ask some additional questions about her background and learn that she’s a Sky Watcher’s apprentice. Vatna says that she wishes to save the Lady of the Skies and help the gods. At the end of this conversation, the Herald can recruit Vatna into the Inquisition right away, tell her that they might consider it (after which she will relocate to the village of Haven), or force her to leave.

Note: Vatna must be recruited before “In Your Heart Shall Burn”. After the fall of Haven, she is no longer available.

If the player chooses to recruit Vatna, she starts following them on their travels. In Haven, she stays by the lake, next to the training grounds of the Inquisition’s soldiers. In Skyhold, she dwells on the battlements by the Herald’s Rest, overlooking the valley below. The peregrine falcon is always seen nearby. Conversations with Vatna focus on magic, spirits, the Frostback Mountains, and the Avvar lore.

After the Herald seals the Breach, Vatna expresses her gratitude about them repairing the Veil (to which she refers as “the Lady’s Veil”). She says that she intends to stay until the one who opened it is defeated. In the following battle of Haven, she can be seen using her ice magic to kill or stagger the attacking forces. On the way to Skyhold, Vatna and her falcon help the Herald scout the path ahead, though she warns that she had heard awful tales about the fortress and the powers that permeate it.

Some time after the Inquisition reaches Skyhold, Vatna might ask for the Inquisitor’s assistance in helping the Avvar. As it turns out, she received the news from Two Falcon Hold that her people, as well as several neighbouring tribes, have been troubled by either the Venatori or the Red Templars. The Inquisitor can complete a war table mission that informs them about further evidence of Corypheus’ forces attempting to establish some kind of a covert operation in the Frostback Mountains, far from the eyes of sovereign nations like Ferelden and Orlais.

If the Inquisitor decides to investigate the lead, they and Vatna travel to the central part of the Frostback Mountains. At their destination, they are told that some Avvar have been injured or killed in skirmishes with Corypheus’ forces, and more people are missing without a trace, Vatna’s younger sister among them. Following the points of evidence to the source reveals that a member of the Venatori has been conducting research on the effect of high altitudes on blood magic potency (as hematocrit increases in an environment with lower oxygen supply). Once all the enemies are defeated, and the kidnapped Avvar are rescued, the Inquisitor may return to Two Falcon Hold with Vatna and speak with the members of the hold to learn more about their situation, and also about their relations with Vatna.

At the end of the mission, if Vatna’s approval is high enough, she approaches the Inquisitor and invites them to climb with her to a nearby mountain peak, where she confesses that she hadn’t shared full truth about herself, but now that the Inquisitor proven trustworthy, she wants them to know something - the falcon she travels with, Himnar, is actually a host to one of the spirits who have lived with her hold for many generations. Vatna and the spirit share a magical bond that allows them to communicate mentally. Moreover, Vatna is a Dreamer, and during her nightly visits in the “Land of Dreams”, she tries to decipher the omens sent by the gods. The reason she travelled into the Lowlands was that she had foreseen a possible catastrophe, but she didn’t know what exactly would happen. As a result, she arrived too late to do anything. At the end of the conversation, Vatna reiterates her wish to protect her people and spirits from dangers, known and unknown.

Afterwards, the Inquisitor and Vatna return to Skyhold. A contingent of the Inquisition’s soldiers is stationed in the Frostback Mountains to deal with the enemies that might still be lurking there.

Once Corypheus is defeated, Vatna expresses her thanks to the Inquisitor for using their power to thwart the Magister’s plans. She says that she intends to help with the remaining tasks, such as closing the rifts and getting rid of Corypheus’ forces thoroughly, but as soon as that’s finished, she has to return to her hold and take on the duties of a Sky Watcher, since her mentor is growing too old to handle everything himself. She invites the Inquisitor to visit her hold sometime in the future and stay as long as they wish.

Trespasser

If the Inquisitor is friends with Vatna:

Two years after Corypheus’ defeat, Vatna unexpectedly arrives in the Winter Palace - as always, with a falcon at her side. The Inquisitor may express their confusion at her visit, to which Vatna replies that the gods urged her to go, even if it meant leaving her people again. She adds that “there’s a disturbance in the Land of Dreams, and the Lady’s Veil is still weak at the seams.” She voices a profound concern about the state of the Inquisitor's Anchor.

While travelling through the Crossroads, she notes that she’s aware the sky is different, though she “could never see it with her own eyes”. If the Inquisitor is an elf, she asks them if they would want to live in a place like that. If the Inquisitor is not an elf, Vatna offers to cast a spell that could alleviate the tiredness that affects all non-elven races in the Crossroads.

If Cole is in the party, he and Vatna engage in a cryptic conversation about dreams.

As the Anchor becomes more volatile, Vatna attempts to stabilize it, but she’s unsuccessful.

In the end, Vatna is shown to have returned to her hold, but it’s hinted that she might be doing something in the Fade to lessen the turmoil among its denizens.

If the Inquisitor is not friends with Vatna:

A letter addressed to the Inquisitor arrives from the Frostback Mountains, signed by Sky Watcher Vatna of Two Falcon Hold. The Avvar mage writes that she and the Inquisitor may not have agreed much, but it’s not going to matter if the world is set on fire. She gives a warning about “travelling the lonely path”. The package that was delivered alongside the letter contains a clear crystal wrapped in a wolf pelt, with a description claiming that the crystal “lessens the headache of watching the other sky through the eyes that weren’t meant to gaze upon it”.

Quests

Made in Mountains (recruitment)

Times of Trouble (war table)

Fraught with Fury (personal)

Strong from Struggle (personal - very high approval)

Spoken Soft (romance)

Approval

Vatna approves of helping spirits and learning about various sources of magic. She appreciates when the Inquisitor regards her beliefs with respect. She favors a direct approach to solving problems.

If a quest involves spirits, the changes in Vatna’s approval occur even if she’s not in the active party.

Approval Gained

Main quests:

Allying with the rebel mages at the end of “In Hushed Whispers” - Approves.

Saying “Corypheus must be stopped” when accepting the title of Inquisitor - Greatly Approves.

Killing Florianne de Chalons during “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts” - Approves.

Letting Celene execute Gaspard at the end of “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts” - Approves.

Allowing the Grey Wardens to join the Inquisition at the end of “Here Lies the Abyss” - Slightly Approves.

Siding with Abelas at the Temple of Mythal during “What Pride Had Wrought” - Approves.

Drinking from the Well of Sorrows - Approves.

Allowing Morrigan to drink from the Well of Sorrows - Slightly Approves.

Side quests:

Discovering the landmarks associated with “Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar-Mother” in the Hinterlands - Slightly Approves at each one.

Equipping her with Tyrdda’s Staff - Greatly Approves (this initiates a special cutscene).

Completing “Ballad of Lord Woolsley” in the Hinterlands by returning the ram to One Eyed Jim - Slightly Approves.

Completing “Trouble with Wolves” in the Hinterlands - Approves.

Destroying the summoning stones in Solas’ personal quest “All New, Faded for Her” - Greatly Approves.

Defeating Hand of Korth during “Lost Souls” in Fallow Mire - Greatly Approves.

Recruiting Amund into the Inquisition - Approves.

Completing “Burdens of Command” in Crestwood by fulfilling the request of the Spirit of Command - Approves.

Investigating Chateau d'Onterre in the Emerald Graves and killing the Arcane Horror that lurks there - Approves.

Completing “Call Me Imshael” in Emprise du Lion by killing Imshael - Approves.

Making Erimond tranquil in his judgement - Approves.

Completing “Fears of the Dreamers” in the Fade section of “Here Lies the Abyss” - Approves.

Jaws of Hakkon DLC:

Killing Hakkon’s dragon host - Greatly Approves.

Defeating Gurd Harofsen - Greatly Approves.

Rescuing Storvacker - Greatly Approves.

Accepting Runa's offer to be included in her prayer at the end of "Up and Away" - Approves.

Completing "The Loss of a Friend" by killing Grandin - Approves.

Telling Sigrid to talk to the augur at the end of “In Exile” - Greatly Approves.

Recruiting Sigrid into the Inquisition at the end of "In Exile" - Approves.

Speaking to Telana’s spirit: “You can rest now.” - Approves.

Completing “Hakkon’s Trials” - Slightly Approves.

Saying “Renewal?” when asked by the augur about the purpose of the rituals during “It Remains to be Seen”, showing that you understood it - Approves.

Giving the offering to the Master of the Hunt at the end of “A Father’s Name” - Approves.

Giving the offering to Finn at the end of “A Father’s Name” - Slightly Approves.

Saying “I am honored.” when accepting the legend-mark - Approves.

Approval Lost

Main quests:

Allying with the Templars at the end of “Champions of the Just” - Disapproves.

Saying “I’ll do it for my own power” when accepting the title of Inquisitor - Greatly Disapproves.

Arresting Florianne de Chalons during “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts” instead of killing her - Slightly Disapproves.

Making Gaspard the sole ruler of Orlais - Greatly Disapproves.

Banishing the Grey Wardens at the end of “Here Lies the Abyss” - Disapproves.

Refusing to side with Abelas at the Temple of Mythal during “What Pride Had Wrought” - Disapproves.

Suggesting that the Well of Sorrows should be destroyed during “What Pride Had Wrought” - Disapproves.

Side quests:

Attacking Lord Woolsley during “Ballad of Lord Woolsley”, which causes him to transform into a Rage Demon - Greatly Disapproves.

Killing the Pride Demon in “All New, Faded for Her” without attempting to destroy the summoning stones - Greatly Disapproves.

Accepting any of Imshael’s offers in “Call me Imshael” - Greatly Disapproves.

Refusing to complete the request of the Spirit of Command during “Burdens of Command” in Crestwood - Disapproves.

Jaws of Hakkon DLC:

Refusing Runa's offer to be included in her prayer at the end of "Up and Away" - Disapproves.

Completing "The Loss of a Friend" by allowing Grandin to live - Greatly Disapproves.

Speaking to Telana’s spirit - “Leave, or be destroyed.” - Disapproves (If Cole or Solas are in the party, there’s an additional approval loss.)

Saying “I didn’t understand it.” or “Just tell me.” when asked by the augur about the purpose of the rituals during “It Remains to be Seen” - Disapproves.

If the player has killed any benevolent spirit, or Cole was expelled from the Inquisition, a special cutscene triggers upon the next return to Skyhold, in which Vatna threatens to leave the organization. She can be convinced to stay if her personal quest was initiated, or cast out right there and then.

If Vatna’s approval gets critically low, a cutscene will be initiated on the Skyhold battlements, where Vatna confronts the Inquisitor about their choices. She voices her regret about ever joining the Inquisition, saying that she would have fared better if she was on her own. The player can try to change her mind or tell her to leave, either way, the final result stays the same, with Vatna storming out of Skyhold, cursing the Inquisitor’s name.

Romance

Vatna is a potential love interest for male Inquisitors only.

The romance can be initiated after winning Vatna’s approval and completing her personal questline, including the approval-dependent conversation at the end of “Strong from Struggle”. Beforehand, there are several flirtatious dialogue options that can be chosen during conversations with Vatna, but she always swiftly changes the topic to something else, both in the case of male and female Inquisitors. Picking the flirtatious options doesn’t garner either approval or disapproval from Vatna, aside from a flirt line that can occur after rescuing the Avvar during “Fraught with Fury”, which results in “Disapproves” and a harsher reply.

Should the Inquisitor continue flirting with Vatna after her personal quest, she will eventually approach them in their quarters and express her intention to speak about the nature of their relationship. She and the Inquisitor go on a walk in the mountains surrounding Skyhold.

If the Inquisitor is female, Vatna gently tells her that she is not romantically interested in women, but she hopes to remain friends. She wishes the female Inquisitor good luck in her future pursuits. The Inquisitor may voice their dissatisfaction, to which Vatna will take offence, saying that she never hinted she was interested in the Inquisitor. Otherwise, they part on friendly terms.

If the Inquisitor is male, Vatna informs him that she indeed feels a connection between them, something more than friendship, but that she fears it might not be enough for him. Hesitating, she explains that she doesn’t experience sexual attraction, not towards the Inquisitor, nor anyone else she ever met in her life. In the past, she was romantically attracted to a man, someone she knew very well and cared for dearly, but in the end, the relationship didn’t work out, and she felt it was her fault. After sharing her point of view, Vatna asks the Inquisitor about their thoughts, saying she prefers to end it there and then if he finds such a situation an insurmountable obstacle.

At this point, the Inquisitor may disengage from the conversation, which ends the romance path, and depending on the dialogue option chosen, results in no approval change (and they part on friendly terms) or “Greatly Disapproves” from Vatna (if she was told she is “cold-hearted”).

However, if the Inquisitor decides to pursue the relationship, he and Vatna return to Skyhold together.

The party banter and ambient comments suggest that Vatna and the Inquisitor spend a lot of time together, which causes many rumours, especially among the Orlesian nobility visiting Skyhold. The companions may remark about the relationship and try to elicit a response from either Vatna or the Inquisitor, but Vatna always cuts them off.

One night, Vatna suddenly wakes up the Inquisitor, asking him if he remembers anything unusual from his recent dreams. If a mage, the Inquisitor may describe his dreams in more detail, if a non-mage, he may say that he vaguely recalls some dream (there are several options to choose from, including humorous options), either way, Vatna replies this is not what she meant. She explains that suspects a spirit is observing both her and the Inquisitor, but the being always hides away when she or her falcon try to approach it. She wishes to learn what the spirit wants and ask the Inquisitor for aid. If the Inquisitor agrees to her request, Vatna performs a ritual to send their minds into the Fade. Vatna and the Inquisitor investigate the magical landscape together, and eventually they manage to track down the spirit, which turns out to be a young Spirit of Love that became fascinated with the various types of relationships that formed in Skyhold and took particular interest in the bond between Vatna and the Inquisitor. Vatna encourages the spirit to cultivate its interest in love, as its kind is small in numbers.

After the final battle with Corypheus, Vatna shares a hug with the Inquisitor. Once the Inquisitor leaves the feast, she follows him upstairs, and they watch the sunrise together.

In Trespasser, Vatna reunites with the Inquisitor. Unlike in the non-romanced scenario, she is fully expected to arrive in the Winter Palace, and she exchanges warm greetings with the Inquisitor. As the Anchor grows more volatile, she actually succeeds in calming it, though only temporarily. Before the Inquisitor steps through the eluvian to meet Solas, Vatna makes him swear an oath that he will come back alive.

The epilogue shows that Vatna and the Inquisitor live in the Frostback Mountains.

Quotes

“The messengers of the Lady of the Skies led me here.”

“My mentor said that Fate is not written in stone.”

(To Cole) “You alone should choose which path you’ll follow.”

Trivia

All titles of quests that involve Vatna are taken from the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar-Mother.

In the promotional materials. Vatna is referred to as “The Forecaster”.

She is accompanied by a peregrine falcon and has a couple of its feathers attached to her clothes.

Vatna is classified as a mage, but she can be equipped both with staffs and melee weapons. Her skills are similar to that of Amund from Dragon Age: Inquisition Multiplayer.

Vatna acts friendly towards Cole, Solas, and Varric from the beginning. Over the consecutive banters, she warms up towards Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Blackwall.

In her location-specific remarks, she often comments on the weather and the behaviour of local birds.

If a quest involves spirits, the changes in Vatna’s approval occur even if she’s not in the active party, similar to how Cole’s approval can change in a number of quests without him being present.

She is the only companion that doesn’t have an approval change in Trespasser when the Inquisitor declares their intent about either saving or hunting down Solas.

[wajjs]

Blob’s tips for academic writing

aka how I tricked my professors into thinking I Know Shit (when I don’t)

First things first, and this a general disclaimer, I’m going to try and keep what I’m about to say in mostly general terms. This is because I’m aware regulations for written stuff in academic circles sometimes change not from college to college, but from country to country.

Anyways, I’m going to keep this simple.

Be clear and concise about your objectives, aka what you are planning to prove/explain with what you are writing.

Include in the very beginning (aka the first two paragraphs) what your objectives are. Be it to prove some bitch is totally biased in their research or to explain the connection between popular singers and sainthood, no matter what you are writing about, always try to start by saying what’s the shit you hope to get done.

This helps a lot with organization and also takes pressure off the whole aaaaa I don’t know how to start this, this is fucking hell, why am I in college, fuck my life thing we all go through.

When possible, start with a quote.

This is something I do a lot. Together with adding in the first paragraph my objectives, I always try to start with some funky quote that’s related to the topic at hand. I’ve quoted academic authors, song lyrics, fictional novels, comics, etc. If it works within the context, I’ve added it at the very start of things, right in between the title and the first paragraph with right margin indentation.

What this does is that it not only takes pressure off the beginning words, it also helps to put your work in context. It sets the mood. It also shows that you’ve been thinking about this so hard, that you’ve found ways to connect it with new things. But honestly that’s not necessarily true, I personally grab the first thing I can think of that sounds great considering the topic I’m working with.

(Sub)sections are your friends

Dividing your work in easily definable (and searchable) parts is a blessing. Not only does this help keep track of what you’ve said, it also helps the professors when they have to read it. Basically, it makes reading significantly easier for everyone involved.

You don’t have to go the boring route of Introduction / Analysis / Evidence / Conclusion. I mean, it IS best if you keep that Conclusion around because that’s kind of the most important thing among the others. I’ve handed in tons of research papers and essays with subsections titled after song lyrics or quotes from novels, etc. And guess what? Each time I’ve done that, my profs loved it.

Now, granted, maybe first try to get a general vibe of what your profs prefer, because some might not be down to party, but do keep this in mind. It shows individuality and personality. Yes, profs say you don’t gotta reinvent the wheel, but adding some color and sparkle is always nice, isn’t it?

Think of examples. Add as many as you can. Spread them all over.

If there’s one thing professors go bonkers for, that is examples. Even more so if they aren’t ones that have already been provided during class or within the textbooks/study materials. This doesn’t mean you must crack your head open trying to come up with something original: take the examples you already have as template!

You can still totally add those anyways. Just add examples. They are your friend and they add to the word count in times of need.

Text organizers

There are key words/phrases that organize the text and make it seem more concise. Things like:

For example / On the one hand / In conclusion / On the contrary / However / In addition to / As well as / Not only ... but also / Besides / To begin with / etc

are ways to organize your paragraph and sentences, and they help keep track of ideas and points you have made or need to make. I’ve found these have helped me a lot when I’ve had to cut my writing in between sentences (or in the middle of writing a sentence). They place you immediately in the tone you need to use and what you are doing in that section of the thing you’re writing.

Sentence structure

This is something that stands true both for academic writing and fiction: varying the length of your sentences is probably the best thing you can do to make reading easier.

Try not to have too many long sentences (aka, around 3 to 5 lines) one after the other. It slows down the rhythm and makes the thing seem convoluted. Shorten some of them into 2 or 3 sentences, add ones that are at most 2 lines long in between.

Another thing to keep in mind is the word order: SVO is the most common one, yet keeping it up throughout the entirety of the writing can make it seem repetitive or, what’s worst, straight up boring. Switch it up if you can!

Conclusion

Saving the best for last, and this is the golden rule: no new information can be added in the conclusion.

This section is specifically saved to tie up all the loose ends you can find throughout the analysis part of your writing. Everything that goes here MUST have already been talked about beforehand. The conclusion is there for you to explain whether you’ve met your objectives, if there’s need for further investigation (but the limits of the current work don’t let you carry it on, so it must be saved for a future date), if what you set out to prove was in fact wrong, etc.

If you add new information in the conclusion, and there is no way around this, then your analysis will be considered as wrong. You either take the new info out, or you find a way to include it in the previous sections.

All you have to do in this final section is summarize your points, talk about whether your hypothesis has been proved right or wrong, and tie up anything else that needs tying up. That’s it. Nothing less, nothing more.

Hopefully this will be helpful to anyone who might stumble upon this! I tried to keep it all in general terms lmao

Anyways, good luck my pals, don’t let academia kick you in the ass and disillusion you!

[didanawisgi]

Why we petitioned the FDA to refrain from fully approving any covid-19 vaccine this year

June 8, 2021

We are part of a group of clinicians, scientists, and patient advocates who have lodged a formal “Citizen Petition” with the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA), asking the agency to delay any consideration of a “full approval” of a covid-19 vaccine. The message of our petition is “slow down and get the science right—there is no legitimate reason to hurry to grant a license to a coronavirus vaccine.” We believe the existing evidence base—both pre- and post-authorization—is simply not mature enough at this point to adequately judge whether clinical benefits outweigh the risks in all populations.

The covid-19 vaccines in widespread use have emergency authorizations (EUA), not actual approvals, a crucial regulatory distinction that reflects major differences in the level of regulatory scrutiny and certainty about the risk-benefit balance.

Our petition doesn’t argue that risks outweigh benefits—or that benefits outweigh risks. Rather, we focus on methods and processes, outlining the many remaining unknowns about safety and effectiveness—and suggest the kinds of studies needed to address the open questions.

If the FDA listens to us, they won’t give serious consideration to approving a covid-19 vaccine until 2022. Our first request is that the FDA require manufacturers to submit data from completed Phase III trials—not interim results. Trials by vaccine manufacturers were designed to follow participants for two years, and should be completed before they are evaluated for full approval, even if they are now unblinded and lack placebo groups. These Phase III trials are not simply efficacy studies; they also are necessary and important safety studies (as thestudy titles say), and all collected data remain invaluable.

We also call on FDA to require a more thorough assessment of spike proteins produced in-situ by the body following vaccination—including studies on their full biodistribution, pharmacokinetics, and tissue-specific toxicities. We ask the FDA to demand manufacturers complete proper biodistribution studies that would be expected of any new drug and request additional studies to better understand the implications of mRNA translation in distant tissues. We call on data demonstrating a thorough investigation of all serious adverse events reported to pharmacovigilance systems, carried out by independent, impartial individuals, and for safety data from individuals receiving more than two vaccine doses, in consideration of plans for future booster shots. We ask the FDA to request necessary studies in specific populations, including those previously infected with SARS-CoV-2, pediatric subjects, and those with immunological or other underlying medical complexities. Given the nature of the novel vaccine platforms, our petition asks for experts in gene therapy to be included among the external committee advising the FDA.

These are several of our major requests. The petition has been signed by a group of 27 clinicians, researchers, and consumer advocates with diverse experiences and thoughts about the pandemic. We all agree that there remain many open, unanswered questions surrounding the efficacy and safety of covid-19 vaccines that must be answered before the FDA gives serious consideration to granting full approval.

These are the reasons why we lodged our petition. There is no need to rush approval to help stop the pandemic because the vaccines already have Emergency Use Authorization. Yet a rushed process is the very possibility that now confronts us. In the past month, Pfizer and Moderna submitted formal applications for “full approval.”

Covid-19 vaccines are already fully accessible to all Americans who want one. EUAs have enabled their widespread use, and can remain in place even after the expiry of the SARS-CoV-2 public health emergency declaration, as is the case for various Zika products. Even without full approval, covid-19 vaccines will remain available for all who want them under EUA.

Some surveys suggest that vaccine hesitancy in the United States is due, in part, to lack of full FDA approval. While approval might lead to increased public confidence in covid-19 vaccines, as well as provide legal support for employer-instituted vaccine mandates, to approve a medical product for these reasons is outside FDA’s regulatory purview. Approval decisions must be driven by the safety and efficacy data. The potential unintended consequences of a rushed approval may contribute to growing mistrust of the US public health and regulatory institutions.

Finally, regarding the elephant in the room: publicly raising any element of hesitation about covid-19 vaccines will be seen by some as irresponsible, stoking unfounded fears in the public’s mind and contributing to the “vaccine hesitancy” problem trumpeted every day. But the alternatives—privately raising concerns or simply remaining silent—are arguably more detrimental to public trust in the long run. Staying silent is not the responsible option.  And the implications of only privately raising concerns to regulatory bodies are murky—most would probably not be acted upon, and if they were, it would promulgate the baggage of insufficient accountability and transparency in decision making.

To us, the Citizen Petition seemed the most responsible approach: voice our concerns in our own words, in a professional and transparent manner, through a formal mechanism that can promote accountability in regulatory decision making.

Approving a covid-19 vaccine now risks setting a precedent of lowered standards for future vaccine approvals. The “FDA approved” seal must represent a high bar—and premature licensure of a covid-19 vaccine could seriously damage public confidence in regulatory authorities, particularly if long-term safety issues were to emerge following licensure. Keeping covid-19 vaccines under EUA regulations would also encourage vaccine manufacturers to continue investing resources in completing the necessary safety and efficacy studies for a potential FDA consideration of full licensure in the future.

For each covid-19 vaccine, the benefits may ultimately outweigh the harms. Or not. Or we may end up in a more nuanced position, finding that benefits outweigh harms for some populations, but not others.  Only time—and better evidence—will tell.  And so it is vital we allow the scientific process the time required to gather and assess the evidence to be confident in the decisions we ultimately have to make.

Our citizen petition is filed under Docket ID FDA-2021-P-0786 on regulations.gov. Anybody can comment on the petition, or read others’ comments, including the FDA’s official reply once it arrives.

See also:

Covid-19 vaccines: In the rush for regulatory approval, do we need more data?

US college covid-19 vaccine mandates don’t consider immunity or pregnancy, and may run foul of the law

Linda Wastila is Professor and Parke-Davis Endowed Chair of Geriatric Pharmacotherapy at the University of Maryland Baltimore School of Pharmacy. She has conducted policy and epidemiological research focusing on intended and unintended outcomes of clinical and policy interventions involving medications and their safety over the past 30 years.

Peter Doshi is an associate professor of pharmaceutical health services research at University of Maryland Baltimore School of Pharmacy and senior editor at The BMJ.  He has been calling for greater independence and transparency in covid-19 vaccine related decision making.

Hamid Merchant is a subject lead in pharmacy at The University of Huddersfield and has experience in pharmaceutical research and development both from industry and academia. His clinical knowledge and expertise in pharmaceutical formulation helps in understanding the clinical and therapeutic principles underpinning drug delivery and the science of dosage-form design.

Kim Witczak is a global drug safety advocate with over 25 years of advertising and marketing experience. She co-founded Woodymatters, an organization started after the death of her husband due to undisclosed side effects of antidepressants. Kim is currently Consumer Representative on the FDA Psychopharmacologic Drugs Advisory Committee.

Competing interests: PD has received travel funds from the European Respiratory Society (2012) and Uppsala Monitoring Center (2018); grants from the FDA (through University of Maryland M-CERSI; 2020), Laura and John Arnold Foundation (2017-22), American Association of Colleges of Pharmacy (2015), Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute (2014-16), Cochrane Methods Innovations Fund (2016-18), and UK National Institute for Health Research (2011-14); was an unpaid IMEDS steering committee member at the Reagan-Udall Foundation for the FDA (2016-20), and is an editor at The BMJ. None further declared.

The views and opinions expressed here are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect official policy or position of the University of Maryland or the University of Huddersfield.

Editor’s note 30 July 2021: The links in this article have been updated to reflect the re-filing of this petition under the group name Coalition Advocating for Adequately Licensed Medicines (CAALM), which has been assigned a new docket number (FDA-2021-P-0786).

[dreamsmp-megaritz]

what is Dream SMP analysis? why is Dream SMP analysis?

I see DSMP analysis as being a fun ongoing activity of collecting and interpreting evidence—in a very broad sense of “interpreting,” and in a very broad sense of “evidence.”

The goal is not to reach some final end-state—one where we’ve proved the correct theories and debunked the incorrect theories. The goal is the process, not the outcome.

There are many different degrees to which one can engage in the activity. I’d say everyone who watches DSMP at all is doing some DSMP analysis-- at least in the minimal sense of forming some understanding of what they’re seeing, even if they don’t write or read any essays about it afterward.

Not that I’m against having arguments for or against theories, of course. The effort to support some theory, or to undermine some other competing theory, can be a helpful framework for collecting and organizing and interpreting the evidence.

This activity often can be fruitfully done…

[A] by oneself, or

[B] (often better) in concert with others who hold the same theory, or

[C] (perhaps ideally) in concert with others who hold differing theories, some agreeing and some disagreeing.

But ultimately I think the activity itself is the interesting part. Maybe over time the activity leads us to hold more correct theories and fewer incorrect theories—but I’m not sure whether this is the case or not, and anyway it’s a secondary consideration. And, in general, persuading other people to “agree with the correct theories and reject incorrect theories” should probably be even further down on the list.

For one thing, what would make one theory more true than another, in an analysis of DSMP? By what criteria should we judge a theory? (For now I’m using the word “theory” in a vague manner that could be worth returning to.)

I don’t think I would accept an extreme subjectivism which claims any interpretation is “just as valid” as any other. But I also don’t have a clear answer here. It’s not particularly obvious what the criteria for truth are—in an analysis of any sort of fiction or art, let alone something like the DSMP. I am also not sure whether we should speak of “truth” as opposed to some broader concept like “legitimacy” or “plausibility” or “reasonableness” or even “goodness.”

Should we use the criterion of logical consistency? For some kinds of investigation, we’re looking for consistent theories in which we’ve resolved all the contradictions. In a scientific investigation, it is a very bad sign when a theory’s predictions are contradicted by the observable evidence, or when one element of the theory contradicts another element of the same theory. The application of a logical consistency standard can show when a scientific theory is flawed. But is logical consistency a good standard for interpreting DSMP? It seems debatable.

There are internal inconsistencies within many works of fiction—perhaps especially one such as the DSMP, whose story emerges out of a combination of writing and improvisation by multiple people, and which is set within a game-world that has unclear and flexible rules. DSMP is likely more prone to internal contradictions than many other stories are, for reasons that will be worth exploring further sometime.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. But it means that on some points of contention, many (if not all) theories will likely run into some inconsistencies. There may be cases where a fully consistent theory is simply impossible.

So there is reason to doubt whether we should be judging DSMP theories according to their consistency.

At least, if we use the criterion of consistency, it would need to be done in a special way—to account for the peculiar features of DSMP’s story, including perhaps the impossibility of fully consistent theories. I am not sure how to do this! Maybe it is certain kinds of consistency we’re looking for in a theory, and not other kinds. What kinds of consistency are important? What kinds of consistency are unimportant?

Additionally, we should probably judge a theory by several different standards—not only consistency. I’m not sure what other criteria for judging theories could be used instead.

For one thing, there seem to be various standards of “thematic cohesion” (or something) which are appropriate to analyzing a work of fiction. Some of these might resemble consistency, but a lot looser than strict logical non-contradiction.

I’m also thinking of some vague idea like “being faithful to the spirit of the story.” It’s probably got to have affective elements, as well. The legitimate reasons in support of an interpretation can come partially from our interests and what we care about. The structure of a viewer’s emotions might play a role in grounding the structure of some kinds of legitimate theories (in a manner to be explored further sometime). Again, I wouldn’t agree with full subjectivism, but rather some kind of mixed criterion that involves a role of the psychology of the viewer and/or community of viewers as co-creators of the meaning of the story through the interaction. More broadly, the DSMP media itself is a kind of canvas upon which we can overlay additional significance, meanings, conventions, headcanons, and whatever else.

I’m really making this up as I go. Unfortunately, I’ve barely studied any literary theory or philosophy of art—fields that probably have produced a lot of ideas which would be useful here!

In any event, analyzing the evidence is pretty interesting (despite my meta-level uncertainty on what kinds of things it can be evidence for). The evidence is made up of lots of details from lots of media. The evidence is large in size, it’s difficult to navigate, and many pieces of it can be interpreted in various different ways. One’s broader background theory could lend support to one reading over another, but a different background theory could perhaps support a different reading. There are a lot of interconnected things going on here.

It’s cool and good for people to explore these ideas and share them with each other, and see what comes out of it. It’s a good activity, and people should enjoy doing it. If you’re doing DSMP analysis in a manner that seriously hinders your own enjoyment or the enjoyment of others, then something has probably gone wrong.

[let-me-write]

The Truth Untold

Find chapters 1 2 here

Chapter 3: The Consequence of What-ifs

Kit Herondale stood in front of the towering old cathedral, wondering if his presence here was warranted. He had been deliberating under this street lamp for what felt like hours.

Tessa had opened a portal from Devon for him. He sighed now, opening the gates to the gothic building...it was time to go in. They would be waiting for him.

The New York Institute never failed to awe him, despite his several visits. It was magnificent in its height, overwhelming even in the dusk light. It donned an air of mystery that pulled you in, while its eerie facade terrified you from any thought of approaching it.

Kit couldn't help but compare it with the only other institutes he was familiar with: The Los Angeles and London Institutes. All three churches, except, the latter two somehow blended with their surroundings. This one though stood out like a sore thumb in the busy Manhattan neighbourhood.

In one of his past visits, he had thought that this would be the obvious abode of a sinister supervillain in a low-budget thriller. He had been almost right... He had learnt later from Simon that the mundane facade of the institute, had indeed been the backdrop for a few indie horror movies.

He opened the door to the Institute and was greeted with the familiar voices of Jace and Clary.

" Jace, calm down. It's not a big deal. This is not Kit's first time. Stop it or I'm calling Simon to record this...you wouldn't like one of those edits again would you? "

"I'm obliged to acquaint him with the traditions of our legendary family, Clary. Not even you could stop me..."

Kit exhaled heavily.

He wasn't ready to take in his cousin's shenanigans now. He moved further ahead, before stopping near the landing where the heads of the institute were busy arguing, oblivious to Kit's presence. He cleared his throat and said, " Hello Clary, need some help? "

Clary turned around surprised, " Kit !! You're here. I'm so glad to see you ", she patted his arm excitedly. She continued, " Well, yes, I need your help" and gestured at the head of her fiancé.

Jace was wearing a ridiculous headgear, with a monstrous-looking duck adorning it. Of course, he was...

Jace had taken it upon himself to sensitise Kit to the sacred traditions of the Herondales since he had learnt that Kit - to his absolute horror- loved ducks. He is yet to cease in his campaign to dissuade Kit from the "demonic birds".

Kit wished he had a normal cousin; except not really...then who else would be capable of distracting him-so spectacularly-from his worries. He felt a flush of warmth towards Jace.

Jace was leaning forward to hug him now. Kit reciprocated with a quick hug.

Jace then looked at him up and down while commenting, " Christopher, I see you have buffed up since I saw you last. I'm glad my mentoring has worked "

Kit shrugged nonchalantly.

He took that as an affirmation and grinned all self-satisfied. " I've made all the necessary arrangements for your stay here. You will have a splendid time, well, apart from the mission " he assured.

Kit just stared.

He raised his eyebrows, noting Kit's quiet demeanour and shared a look with Clary. He said " We had planned to have a take-out dinner. Why don't you join us? "

Kit smiled at him with a nod, before reaching up to pull the duck hat from Jace's head and donning it on his own. He said with a cheeky grin, " Thank you, Jace, for such a thoughtful gift. You have satisfied my adoration for duck collectables of all forms. Get me a dragon duck next time "

Jace groaned aloud, while Clary burst out laughing.

...........................................................................

The dinner had been a quiet affair, after which Kit had been introduced to his room at the Institute. He sat there on his new bed, pondering over his observations of the night.

He had noticed that the residents of the Institute were quite exhausted, in spite of their enthusiasm at his arrival. It was evident from Clary's dark circles and Jace's wild hair. There was a tense nature to their stances, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

It was to be expected since they were helping Alec's Clave-in-exile, besides dealing with the new development in the streets of New York.

Downworlders were getting killed in the past few months, in isolated incidents. The only clue was that the modus operandi matched the murder of a downworlder couple three years ago.

The Conclave of New York had strengthened and increased the frequencies of their patrols to prevent further losses. Special patrols under the Downworlder-Shadowhunter alliance had been constituted for the purpose. In fact, Clary and Jace had gone for the same tonight.

They had declined Kit's offer to join, citing his unfamiliarity with the city. Besides, he could start his patrols for the mission once the others arrived, they said.

The others...the Centurions, would arrive early tomorrow.

The thought made Kit almost queasy.

He would be meeting Ty after a long time. He didn't know how they would get past the awkwardness between them.

He wondered if Ty would even recognize him.

Kit fiddled with the paper in his pocket. He took it out and smoothed the worn-out edges.

Ty had sent the message a week ago. He had been curious and slightly concerned when he had realized it was Ty's.

He had read it numerous times since then...

He reread now while tracing each word with his finger:

Dear Christopher,

I have been assigned my first mission in New York, to investigate mysterious energy emanating from the Shadow Market there. I believe there's a link between Barnabas Hale and this phenomenon.

I trust you will understand me when I tell you, I couldn't help but think of you. I remember your familiarity and ease in dealing with the denizens of the Shadow Market.

Hence, as the leader, I am requesting you to accompany us on this mission. Your inputs would be highly appreciated and you would be a valuable addition to the team.

Besides, it is not an exclusive mission for the Centurions. Students of the Shadowhunter Academy will also be a part of it...Dru will be there.

I'm not sure if you would read this or would even consider coming but I hope you do.

If you do, please come to the New York Institute next week.

Regards,

Tiberius Blackthorn

It was the most formal, any communication between them had ever been.

He had hated it; hated that Ty was distant now and that he was needed only for a mission by the other boy.

It had made him feel miserable.

But, he couldn't help the tiny hope that arose in his heart, at a chance to meet Ty again and the thought of Ty needing him for something, even as trivial as his familiarity with the Shadow Market.

He sighed, disappointed with himself...his innate desire to be a part of Ty's life, to mean something to him...it had never disappeared.

After he had received the message, he hadn't been sure if it was real or just a manifestation of his wishful thinking.

He had then stayed cooped up in his room, holding onto the message, keeping a watch so that it didn't disappear.

Logically, he knew he shouldn't go. He had a life at Devon with his loving family, untouched by any harm courtesy of his legacy.

Unfortunately, his mind had refused to budge from the What-ifs...

What if this was his last chance to meet Ty in the flesh? What if they ended up never talking to each other till they died? or worse, What if he didn't get to see Ty ever again?

Those had terrified him.

Then, he had been haunted by a particular memory, when he had believed he was dying, after the encounter with the Riders of Mannan. He had tried to ask Emma then - with what he had believed to be his last breath - to " Tell Ty that I am sorry "

Dread had filled his mind: What if he fails to ask Ty for his forgiveness, for not being a good friend, for letting him endanger himself, just because Kit didn't want to be left out and for making him cry with his harsh words?

It was long overdue and Ty deserved to know, except Kit was clueless on how to act on that.

He had decided then that his participation in the mission could be the first step towards it, at least, in opening up a dialogue between them.

It wouldn't be an easy task, it would hurt him to be so close to Ty.

But Kit was willing to try, to act, which he had failed to do in the past years.

It was hard at first, to convince Jem and Tessa. They were concerned at his sudden interest in a mission and feared for his safety.

To them, Kit's safety was the priority and they worried about him attracting dangerous attention if he left Devon, alone.

Kit had assured them that it would be a short mission and besides " Where else would I get to show off my Shadowhunter training? I think it will be a good opportunity, Jem " he said.

They agreed, but only after confirming that Jace and Clary were in the Institute and would take care of him, for they were one of the few who safeguarded Kit's dangerous secret.

He had packed lightly and waited for Tessa to open the portal for his departure.

The previous day, Tessa had done her best to place a shield on his powers. His hereditary faerie powers were transient, having appeared only intermittently since that day at Idris.

He had trained with Tessa to wield it but all to no avail, since he couldn't even voluntarily manifest it in the first place. Tessa, however, had told him she could sense the power in him, dormant and waiting for an outlet.

Even though the dark origins of the power let Tessa and Magnus feel it, they were yet to decipher its nature and extent. She was able to only place a shield, a minor deterrent on its volatility.

During the time of departure, Mina had hugged him close and murmured " I will miss you Gē-Ge", with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. He had rubbed her head lovingly while assuring her that he would be back soon and that he would say 'Hi ' to Max and Rafe for her. Tessa had asked him to be good and return safely. Jem had just smiled and hugged him before sending him off through the portal.

At present, lying wide awake in an unfamiliar room, with its blank wooden walls and the Manhattan skyline visible from his window, Kit missed his family.

He was anxious to meet Ty and even Dru tomorrow. At the same time, he wished that the time would pass by soon and that the dawn would arrive...he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes and played one of Jem's compositions on his iPod. It calmed his nerves and brought in a sense of familiarity.

Kit drifted towards what would most likely be a restless sleep, with the words 'I couldn't help but think of you ' lingering in his mind. He looked forward to a day that was bound to be, vastly different from the ones of the last three years of his life.

...........................................................................

Please reblog if you like it. Your comments are welcome too!!

[mrjat396]

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THE MANY HEALTH BENEFITS OF METH

In low, pharmaceutical-grade doses, methamphetamine may actually repair and protect the brain in certain circumstances. But stigma against the drug could be harming patients and holding back research.

TROY FARAHMAY 15, 2019

D-methamphetamine is what generally appears on the street—although it's often cut with other chemicals—whereas l-meth provides a less addictive, shorter-lived high that is less desirable among drug users.

(Photo: Fiona Goodall/Getty Images)

Ask your doctor about methamphetamine. It's not a phrase you'll ever hear on TV or the radio, but here's a secret: Meth is an incredible medicine. Even the Drug Enforcement Administration admits it, and doctors are known to prescribe it for narcolepsy, obesity, and ADHD. Historically, meth has been used to reverse barbiturate overdoses and even raise blood pressure during surgery. Some preliminary research suggests that meth can be neuroprotective against stroke and traumatic brain injury, even stimulating the growth of brain cells.

Yet we're constantly warned never to try meth—"not even once," goes the refrain—or it will instantly cause addiction and ruin your life. Before fentanyl was the demon drug du jour, meth was seen as the worst, most destructive, most evil chemical you could find on the streets. Even of late, if you ask the New York Times or NBC, you'll learn that meth, "the forgotten killer," is back with a "vengeance." Other outlets, from Rolling Stone to CNN to The Daily Beast, have raised the alarm about meth use in the context of the opioid overdose crisis.

Stimulant-related deaths are indeed on the rise in North America—in some regions, meth is even more prevalent than heroin. Surveying drug overdoses in America from 1979 through 2016, researchers wrote in Science in September of 2018 that "Methamphetamine deaths have increased most dramatically in the western and southwestern United States."

Meth poisonings accounted for an estimated 14,845 hospitalizations in 2015, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), and another 15,808 emergency room visits. In 2016, around 7,500 people died from overdosing on stimulants, including meth. If you ask most people, including policymakers, you'll hear that meth is a scourge that can do no good.

But if you've ever used something like Vicks VapoInhaler, you've experienced the healing benefits of meth firsthand. That's because the over-the-counter nasal decongestant contains levomethamphetamine, the levorotary form—or "mirror image"—of the same stuff from Breaking Bad. Procter & Gamble tries to obscure this fact by spelling the active ingredient "levmetamfetamine." Selegiline, a drug for treating Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases, also metabolizes into levomethamphetamine.

There is a significant difference between these two opposing molecules. D-methamphetamine is what generally appears on the street—although it's often cut with other chemicals—whereas l-meth provides a less addictive, shorter-lived high that is less desirable among drug users. But people can and do use it recreationally. Abuse is rare, however, in part because the high is shitty, but also because d-meth is so widely available. It's easier to buy a more powerful form of the drug on the street than it is to try to extract it from over-the-counter medications.

Other Americans are prescribed actual, pure meth by their doctors. It happens less frequently these days, but in ADHD, obesity, or narcolepsy cases where nothing else has worked, a drug called Desoxyn (methamphetamine hydrochloride) can sometimes help. It can even be prescribed to children as young as seven.

It's important to make these distinctions. Meth didn't make a "comeback"; it never left. It can't return with a "vengeance" and it can't be "evil" because we're talking about a chemical compound here. It has no personality, no feelings, no intentions.

Thus it does a disservice to science and to medicine, as well as to the people who use these drugs responsibly, to treat a molecule with dualistic properties purely as a poison. And as recent research has shown, we're still uncovering some of the potential therapeutic benefits of methamphetamine. Confronting the stigma associated with meth and highlighting its benefits can better inform drug policy and addiction treatment.

(Photo: HO/Royal Thai Navy/AFP/Getty Images)

'IT'S JUST A STIMULANT, LIKE ANY OTHER STIMULANT'

For Jordan*, the meth he's prescribed works better against his ADHD with fewer side effects than the Adderall he'd been on for 20 years. About five years ago, Jordan asked his doctor if he could try methamphetamine. The doc said sure.

"The first time I brought it to the pharmacy, the pharmacist actually said to me, 'Oh, your doctor wrote this prescription wrong, this is the stuff that they make in meth labs,'" Jordan tells me by phone. "I told him to type 'Desoxyn' into the computer, and he did. He kind of backtracked, [but] he obviously had no idea."

Jordan, a middle-aged man from North Carolina who works in clinical research, now switches every three months between Adderall and Desoxyn to prevent building a tolerance to either stimulant.

Methamphetamine and amphetamine (one of the active ingredients in Adderall) are almost identical chemicals. The main difference between the two is the addition of a second methyl group to methamphetamine's chemical structure. This addition makes meth more lipid-soluble, allowing for easier access across the blood-brain barrier. Meth is therefore not only more potent, but also longer-lasting.

"The medications have definitely been important for me, to be productive, to be successful, not just at work but also in my personal life," Jordan says. "I've been on the medications for years, but I can take Adderall or methamphetamine and take a nap afterwards. I don't have any noticeable side effects."

Jordan also doesn't feel "high" from the doses he takes—approximately 10 to 15 milligrams of meth per day. Doses at this level are well tolerated by most people. It's very difficult to estimate the typical dosages of illicit meth taken on the street, but they are generally many times higher and taken every couple of hours. Further, the route of administration—typically, users smoke or inject illicit meth—allows for more of the drug to enter the bloodstream than taking a prescription pill.

At high doses, meth gives a rush of euphoria, boosting attention span, zapping fatigue, and decreasing appetite. Intense sexual arousal, talkativeness, and rapid thought patterns are also common. Body temperature and heart rate shoot up, which can cause irregular heartbeat, increasing the risk of seizures. If taken repeatedly over long periods, street meth can be highly neurotoxic, inducing paranoia and psychosis.

But illicit meth is also often used to self-medicate, according to Mark Willenbring, an addiction psychiatrist from St. Paul, Minnesota, with over 30 years of practice treating substance-use disorders. In Willenbring's experience, most of his patients who use illegal meth are treating undiagnosed ADHD.

"There's a high degree of comorbidity between substance-use disorders and ADD," Willenbring says. "They used meth for years in a controlled way, they never over-used it, they just used enough to get an effect, and then they stopped. One misconception is that it's always very addictive."

With most people who are addicted to meth, Willenbring says, you can't tell it just by looking at them. Carl Hart, a neuroscientist in Columbia University's Department of Psychology, agrees that the image of a snarling meth addict with bad teeth is a false stereotype. The dental damage so prevalent in anti-drug propaganda, he says, is more likely due to poor nutrition and lack of sleep—not to the drug. "There is no empirical evidence to support the claim that methamphetamine causes physical deformities," Hart wrote in a 2014 co-authored report.

"It's just a stimulant, like any other stimulant," Willenbring says. "It's a marketing issue."

Part of the reason Jordan asked to try Desoxyn in the first place was to see if he'd develop any of the "stereotypical meth addict problems," as he puts it. He hasn't.

"Those of us that know the reality have a responsibility to say, 'Hey, not that shooting up meth isn't bad, but the chemical itself isn't bad,'" Jordan says. "It's just misuse of the chemical that's bad."

For Joan*, a 66-year-old grandmother living off the grid in northern Georgia, Desoxyn makes her feel normal. "Not high, not hyped up, just normal," she tells me. She's been taking prescription meth since 2006, but first tried many other ADHD meds, such as Ritalin and Concerta, with poor results. But Desoxyn has not only helped her socialize, manage bills, and finish her master's degree in social work; it's also helped with Joan's depression and self-esteem.

"The only downside is the cost," she says. "It's one of the oldest drugs on the market, but even generic, it is outrageously expensive."

Still, meth isn't for everyone, of course. Kevin*, a 31-year-old artist from the Midwest, was first prescribed Desoxyn at age 15 to treat extreme fatigue and trouble focusing. But misdiagnosed mental-health issues—his doctors thought he had bipolar disorder, when in fact he had post-traumatic stress from childhood abuse—led to worsening symptoms.

"Being able to just take a bunch of pills that made the exhaustion go away for a while felt like a blessing, but it was just a Band-Aid on the problem," Kevin says. "I became completely dependent upon Desoxyn to function, and any lapse in taking my dose would result in a terrible energy crash."

"In retrospect, my neurologist at the time would have done well to consider the effects of intense stimulants on someone already prone to mania, insomnia, and hallucinations," he says. "I think Desoxyn has its merits as part of a treatment plan for attentive disorders, but that's the thing—it needs to be part of a larger understanding of how and why it might have a negative impact upon the patient's overall health, and should remain closely monitored throughout."

"Stigma is the lens [through] which we see all drug issues. It keeps us from making the best decisions. It is fear-based, not rational, not creative. Because of stigma, we have not fully addressed the opioid crisis."

(Photo: Guillermo Arias/AFP/Getty Images)

HOW METH CAN TREAT BRAIN INJURY—AND MUCH MORE

Street doses of meth can be extremely damaging to your health. The purity of such drugs is often unknown, and repeated, high doses of meth have been proven to be neurotoxic. But in low, pharmaceutical-grade doses, meth may actually repair and protect the brain in certain circumstances.

This was first discovered in 2008, when researchers at Queen's Medical Center Neuroscience Institute in Honolulu, Hawaii, analyzed five years of data on traumatic head injuries. They unexpectedly found that patients who tested positive for methamphetamine were significantly less likely to die from the injuries. The authors suggested that meth could have neuroprotective benefits.

To learn more, in 2011, a different team from the University of Montana applied meth to slices of rat brain that had been damaged to resemble the brains of stroke victims. Then they induced strokes in living rats, using a method called embolic MCAO, and injected them with methamphetamine. At low doses, the meth gave better behavioral outcomes and even reduced brain-cell death. At high doses, the meth made outcomes worse.

Because meth stimulates the flow of important neurotransmitters—dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine—the Montana researchers theorized that methamphetamine may provide neuroprotection through multiple pathways. David Poulsen, one of the researchers involved, says this was a "serendipitous discovery."

"So we decided, well, if it worked in stroke, it's probably going to work really well in traumatic brain injury," says Poulsen, now a neurosurgeon at the University of Buffalo who specializes in treatments for protecting the brain after severe damage.

Traumatic brain injury, or TBI, occurs after a violent smash to the skull. Its consequences include concussions on the mild end and coma or death on the severe end. TBI kills around 50,000 Americans annually, according to the CDC, while about 2.8 million of us visit the emergency room for TBI-related injuries every year. There is currently no Food and Drug Administration-approved treatment for TBI.

So, Paulson and his team reasoned, if meth can already be prescribed for children, why not to adults with TBI?

To test the proposition, Poulsen and colleagues gave TBI to rats. Giving an animal brain trauma isn't easy, but for more than two decades, there's been a trick called the rat lateral fluid percussion injury model: Simply cut a hole in the skull of a rat and apply water pressure to the brain.

About half the rodents—19 male Wistar rats—were given this treatment, and eight of these were then given meth. The rats given meth performed better at a task called the Morris water maze, a widely used experiment that involves plopping a rat into a pool of water with a hidden platform. By tracking how long it takes the rodent to find the platform, scientists can measure many different aspects of cognitive function.

"By the third day of training, there were no statistically significant differences between the uninjured control rats and the injured rats that had been treated with methamphetamine," Poulsen and his colleagues wrote.

But the team also found that low doses of meth were protecting immature neurons, while also promoting the birth of new brain cells that are important for learning and memory. The same was also true for rats that were given meth, but not injured.

"We see not just little, but very significant improvements in cognition and behavior," Poulsen says. "Their memories improved, functional behavior is improved.... It's not a trivial difference."

"In light of the fact that low-dose methamphetamine is FDA-approved for use in juveniles and adults, we see no valid reason why it cannot be utilized in human clinical trials for stroke and TBI," Poulsen and colleagues concluded in 2016.

But those clinical trials, considered the gold standard for testing medication, have yet to materialize, even while a 2018 retrospective study found similar results to the Hawaiian neuroscience report: Out of 304 patients with TBI, those who also tested positive for meth had better recovery results than those who did not. "The potential neuroprotective role of meth and other similar substances cannot be ignored," the authors wrote in Clinical Neurology and Neurosurgery last July.

There are limited conclusions that we can draw about these rodent and retrospective studies, and it's probably unlikely that nurses will soon start giving meth to people who have cracked their skulls. Still, a wide variety of stimulant therapies for TBI is being explored, with positive results. These include trials with modafinil, a narcolepsy drug; amantadine, a Parkinson's drug; and dextroamphetamine, one of the components of Adderall. But there's still no indication of a single clinical trial for methamphetamine for TBI registered with the National Institutes of Health.

Methylphenidate, also known as Ritalin, seems to be the stimulant most popular in these trials. For example, in 2004, researchers at Drucker Brain Injury Center at MossRehab Hospital in Pennsylvania gave methylphenidate, better known as Ritalin, to 34 patients with moderate to severe TBI. They reported significant improvements in information processing and attention.

Twelve years later, in Gothenburg, Sweden, another 30 patients suffering from prolonged fatigue following TBI were given methylphenidate and observed for six months. They also showed improved cognitive function and reduced fatigue. But a 2016 meta-analysis of 10 controlled trials found the main benefit of giving methylphenidate for TBI was increased attention, "whereas no notable benefit was observed in the facilitation of memory or processing speed," the authors wrote. They encouraged more research into appropriate dosages and length of prescription.

Birgitta Johansson, a neuroscientist at the University of Gothenburg and lead author of the Swedish study, suggests caution whenever treating someone with a brain injury. "With methylphenidate, it is important to be aware about possible side effects, [such] as increased blood pressure and heart rate and also risk of anxiety," she says. "It is always very important to prescribe medication with care and follow the patient carefully."

But the reason meth isn't studied more rigorously—for TBI, for Alzheimer's and Parkinson's, for stroke—could also come down to money. Methamphetamine is off-patent, meaning there may be less financial incentive for pharmaceutical companies to explore the drug's potential uses. Consider Vyvanse, a drug first marketed in 2007, with a new formulation introduced in 2017, that racked up $2.1 billion in sales in 2017. Desoxyn, which is sold by three companies, only earned about $9.3 million in 2009.

While Methamphetamine may not be widely recognized as medicine, it clearly has potential to heal as well as harm. Recognizing the duality of meth is arguably all the more essential in the face of a rising stimulant overdose crisis.

"Stigma regarding any substance use or substance use disorder is counterproductive," says Dan Ciccarone, professor of family medicine at the University of California–San Francisco. He says the overdose crisis is shifting from opioids to stimulants and that we are not prepared for the next wave. "Stigma is the lens [through] which we see all drug issues. It keeps us from making the best decisions. It is fear-based, not rational, not creative. Because of stigma, we have not fully addressed the opioid crisis."

That stigma remains a major hurdle, and until doctors and public-health officials counteract this kind of messaging, it seems unlikely that a multinational pharmaceutical company would risk marketing a substance only believed to be toxic and deadly.

"Everything will kill you, if you take enough of it," Poulsen says. "Some things don't require a lot to do that. Meth is one of those things. But just like any drug, the difference between a poison and a cure is the dose."

*These names have been changed.

TAGSALZHEIMER'SADDERALLTRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURIESFEATURES & INVESTIGATIONSMETHAMPHETAMINEMETHTOPIC: HEALTH CARE

BY TROY FARAH

Troy Farah is an independent journalist and photographer in California. His reporting on science, health, and narcotics has appeared in Wired, Ars Technica, Smithsonian, Discover, Vice, and elsewhere. He co-hosts the drug policy podcast Narcotica. 

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[humanrightsworldwidehrw]

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE COTTON INJUSTICE IN XINJIANG

From 2018, it has been uncovered that the Communist Party of China (CCP) is currently using the Uyghur people to pick cotton for the purpose of manufacturing, with estimates predicting the number of those participating within the cotton-picking scheme to be around 570,000, from three different Uyghur regions. There are fears that the Western population has fuelled the slave labour that the Uyghur are enduring, as the sourcing for such cotton has been affiliated with Chinese garment companies, an example being Lu Thai Textiles, who have been involved within the supply chains of well-established companies such as Hugo Boss and Uniqlo.

The Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region (XUAR) is said to produce 20% of the world's cotton, and 84% of China's, which of course has a global outreach, whether it be for internal manufacturing, or exporting cotton to countries who may then use it as a factor of production. Furthermore, it is also reported that personal protective equipment (PPE) produced within China is also a product of slave labour, which is now used globally and demonstrates the reach that Chinese cotton possesses and their government’s coercive labour training and transfer scheme.

Reactions from NGO’s and businesses

The Thomas Reuters Foundation (TRF) has pursued to restrict the reach of the Chinese coercive labour scheme by contacting thirty leading retailers on their affairs and supply of cotton for their products mid-way through 2020. Companies such as Gap and Patagonia came out to say that their factories were not based within the XUAR, yet they could neither confirm nor deny whether the cotton that was used within production was a product from the XUAR, where other companies such as the owner of PVH, who hold the rights to brands such as Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger, has promised to suspend any existing relationships that may be held with forms of production that are in Xinjiang within the twelve months of the statement.

Actions have also been taken by the Better Cotton Initiative (BCI), to halt the expansion of Xinjiang produced cotton, by suspending licensing to cotton farmers within the XUAR within March 2020, in light of allegations. This has a major impact, since companies such as IKEA and H&M, which had soured BCI cotton from the XUAR, have now decided to halt any sourcing of the product due to the decision of the BCI.

British retailer Marks and Spencer (M&S), uses 40,000 tonnes of lint cotton annually, all sourced from businesses who are BCI approved, and hence cotton that was sourced from Xinjiang has been ceased, due to the decision that the BCI took in March 2020. Yet, they were to take it another step further, signing on for a call to action over the forced labour of the Uyghurs, stating that "When it comes to sustainable and ethical clothing, we can only achieve real change at scale by working with others" – giving a good example to other British retailers, and setting M&S ethical standards above their competition.

Cotton On (CO) and Target Australia (TA), two major retailers within Australia, have also suspended the sourcing of cotton from the XUAR, due to the report from Australian filmmaker Four Corners, in July of 2019, on how Uyghur Muslims are being coerced to work in factories within the XUAR. CO had sourced from a garment company under the name of Litai Textiles, only a short distance away from a ‘re-education camp’, and have now, from the end of 2019, taken action to ensure to be "absolutely committed to having an ethical supply chain", due to an internal investigation inciting that their cotton may have indeed been the product of slave labour. Whereas TA also found itself in a similar position, who also underwent an internal investigation and found that a mill where they source their cotton, owned by the company Huafu, may have also been profiting from slave labour, and since TA has now  "made the decision to stop orders from that mill".

When considering the actions from entities such as the TRF, BCI, M&S, TA, and CO, this would logically result in a decline of demand for cotton from the XUAR, where economic theory would then suggest that the CCP would have to also scale down supply, which may then reduce the number of Uyghurs being used for slave labour – although the CCP is not paying for labour for those picking cotton, they may not want to unnecessarily be losing out on the costs of guards, or that of transportation when moving Uyghurs from one place to another, to pick cotton. Henceforth, it may be logical to suggest that the reactions from these businesses and NGO’s may in fact help to see a decline in slave labour for the purpose of picking cotton within the XUAR.

Reaction from the UK

Dominic Raab, Foreign Secretary of State for the UK, has been understood to explain to British Members of Parliament, within early January of 2021, that UK businesses of a specific tenure will have to give evidence that they are avoiding the sourcing of products that may have been produced from slave labour within the XUAR, although there are yet to be any details on the failure to do so, in addition to the promise of guidelines for business entities on the risks of trade within the XUAR.

Whereas Conservative Member of Parliament lead Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy (BEIS) Committee member for the Forced labour in UK value chains inquiry, Nusrat Ghani, has called for UK businesses to “wake up” and to “examine their supply lines rigorously and make sure they are absolutely clear that they are not profiting from slave labour and abuse of the Uyghurs.” – praising corporations such as M&S, Burberry and Tesco for already doing so.

Reaction from the US

Two Withhold release orders have been issued regarding Chinese cotton from the U.S. Customs and Border Protection Agency (CBP), with the first being issued on the thirtieth of November towards the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corporation (XPCC), and another on the thirteenth of February towards the whole of the XUAR.

The XPCC is a state-owned paramilitary and economic entity, operating within the XUAR, which is one of China’s largest cotton producers, and who is also believed to have produced 30% of China’s cotton within 2015. Following this was the second withhold release order issued by the CBP, upon the whole of the XUAR, which not only covers cotton, but tomatoes too; U.S importers will now be required to prove that products containing cotton or tomato goods had no indication of forced labour, when importing from the XUAR, whether it be the full product, or used within a factor of production.

The Department for Homeland Security (DHS) has stated that, per year, the U.S has imported $9 Billion worth of cotton goods, and to impose a WRO to the region that produces 84% of China’s cotton, will indicate a substantial economic hit. Where former Deputy Secretary for Homeland Security, Kenneth Cuccinelli, had also come out to say that the “Made in China” label, is not just an indication of the country of origin, but should serve as a warning to any consumers, indicating that the product may originate from slave labour practices committed by the CCP, who are profiting from the largest human rights breach within the current world.

Considering what has been said above, it is clear that the fight against XUAR cotton is quite strong from the rest of the world, yet it is still unclear whether there is any light at the end of the tunnel for those Uyghurs who are currently experiencing this genocide.

[grim-faux]

21 - Hall of Rorschachs

The lift gave a harsh clatter against the steel rails, as the cables jerked the empty container back to the ground floor.  I twisted around and lunged at the underside in some pitiful attempt to latch on and ride up, or drag it back down if I must.  Even if there was doubt I had the strength to hold on, I was desperate.  But it was not to be, I was far from grasping the cart as it faded into the dark gullet of the chute.  The clatter of the carriage grew distant as I stood in the shadows gazing up, hand outstretched.  Begging.  My thoughts pleading.  No one was listening.  I returned my focus to the short corridor with the lamps that buzzed and dim whenever a surge slid through.  I was so set on getting out.  Ready to say my goodbyes.  I let my fucking guard down.  How typical.  How fucking typical.

I tried the call button beside the chutes entrance, but it required a magnet key.  I recalled the Asylum, and the numerous trials I endured to locate those damn cards.  I didn’t believe I would stumble upon one down here, since it was ‘Father’ Martin that had planted them for me.  God, even in death he’s still giving me shitty fetch quests.

New Objective:  Find another way out. I didn’t know what awaited down here, lurking.  Didn’t feel prepared to continue.  It couldn’t be worse than the twins or Trager, could it? I crossed to the set of doors and pushed one open, and was nearly blinded by the sterile light blazing over the pristine walls and floor.  Bright glaring lights, that reminded me of His cell.  I blinked the dryness away as I stepped into the hall, I could detect an immediate change in pressure.  Aside from the air having a dry and clinical property, I couldn’t explain the sensation, but I didn’t like it.  Bravo for intuition. The floor was polished and as bright and white as the cylindrical walls curved around the hall.  I wasn’t a geologist so my knowledge was limited, but if I had to guess I would say it was all chiseled from natural stone, from the mountain itself ”…something that had been waiting for them in the mountain.”  What the hell was this place? Now that I thought back on it, a colleague of mine had tried to relate a scientific matter to me concerning specific ores, and how it attributed to supernatural occurrences.  Truth of the matter I had been a piss poor student, and constantly teased her as she tried to educate me.  But I had listened enough. The paranormal was a genre she was interested in, and she was thrilled to tell me about a place she visited in Colorado (not Mount Massive).  Some ritzy Hotel, the Overlook I think was the name, its location built upon a cash of natural limestone.  Scientific observations were utilized to support theories, that paranormal occurrences could be attributed to high concentrations of limestone in the mountain.  Something in the mineral conducted electricity. It sounded a little too fantastic to me, but here and now, I was beginning to wonder if Murkoff had premeditated these findings.  Someone believed them.  In that case, the Asylum wasn’t target exclusively for the history or the seclusion.  It was elected due to the qualities of the region itself. Or maybe I was just tired.  I looked up at the symbol printed above the next set of doors.  I’d seen it before.  No, not the lockers in prison block.  The video the Priest had forced me to watch.  That symbol was on the floor when the MHS tacticals were throttled like chickens.  The atomic, molecular design?  Or could there be further religious affiliation? I pushed the doors open and stepped into a fresh scene of horror.  I knew this room, and my anxiety increased tenfold.  Blood streaked the floor, splattered on the white stone walls.  Bullet marks decorated steel and glass in random areas, the pieces of a gun had been scattered over the floor with black splatters.  Muscles and entrails glistened under the light as I moved from the doors.  Red had dried to the large crescent desk fixed at the rooms center, two large screens sat behind it, bright and cheery in contrast to the stew soaking into the stone.  One read Murkoff Corporation, the other sported the trinity Molecular design along with WALRIDER PROJECT in bold.  And the symbol on the floor streaked with blood.  That symbol was everywhere. With a sigh, I took out my camera and filmed everything.  It was giving me low battery warnings, but I had at least a half hour left if I didn’t run out of power for the night vision.  Unfortunately, there seemed to be plenty of light in this place. “Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.   Whoever finds my corpse – trust no one and tell everyone.  I am not crazy.  I know, I know, only crazy people say that.  But I am as sane as this world allows, with a camera full of evidence.  Don’t call it a gospel.  Call it a mockery of reason, let the world know it is Murkoff’s fault.  Bury these bastards with my mutilated dead body.” It took a few minutes for me to write.  My hands seemed steady at first, but when I put pen to paper, well….  Aside from the difficulty of holding my pen against my middle finger, it was almost unbearable to apply pressure to my index finger.  I dated the note and leaned back to view murder and rot surrounding me while I wrote.  I needed to get my priorities straight. A few plants dotted the room, but I knew they were fake without a glance.  Polished gray pillars encircled the lobby, they didn’t resemble any specific mineral.  Just general grade cement to support the dark blue ceiling.  The far side was comprised of a glassed portion of the wall, with thick pipes behind.  Water, gas, electricity, I didn’t care.  Beside the wall sat a short desk, out of place among the red streaks.  Two chairs had been set facing one another, and two mugs of coffee still sat on the brown wood. I averted my gaze to the opposite wall, where a purge chamber stood open to the room, black blood washed down its sides and soaking the floor.  The images came back clearly as I had seen them, despite the drugs swimming through my brain at the time.  I could envision the panicked militants shrieking as their bodies were ripped through the tiny crevices in the doors, and holes of the glassed in wall.  One man’s legs still lay a few feet from the pile of meat, a string of organs dried to the stone.   I stumbled back into the large desk and sat down on its surface.  My hand touched a folder beside me, and I looked down to flip through the pages.  It was nothing remarkable, nothing relevant I decided. From the personal records of Dr. Wernicke.  The Modern Prometheus Document: The Pride of Wisdom Schrodinger Wolfram “FRANKENSTEIN, or The Modern Prometheus” by Mary Shelley, published anonymously in 1818. Chapter 23, excerpt –  “Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease; you know not what it is you say."  I broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on some other mode of action. Well, it appeared they created man’s monster.  And it hath a wraith unlike no other being in our world.  I closed the folder and pinched the bridge of my nose.  It was apparent I had dug in too deep, I didn’t know if I could claw out of the grave I had lain in.  I suppose I had one choice.  Keep digging.  I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I had a strong estimate.  I was in the Basement of the Asylum. I looked to the security operative slumped in his chair, near where I perched.  Briefly, I wondered what would become of the remains of all these people?  Even if Murkoff wasn’t the shady bastards that they were, it was impossible to gather up the pieces to return them to their families.  The investigation? I slid off the desk and approached the blood splattered door of the cold purge chamber.  My breath hitched as I tried to inhale gently, but the pain in my rib couldn’t be negotiated with.  I didn’t know if I could do this all over.  I might need to find someplace to rest and if fate allowed, I would awaken before I died. The door panel sparkled embers from the torn wires, probably motion sensors detecting my approach.  The doors held silent, an eerie howl raised from the dark depths.  I raised the NV and reassured myself there was nothing, I was alone except for the dead.  The hair bristled along my brow.  God, why did I put that image in my head?   I shuffled forward into the cradle of the dark.  Above wires and cables ran the length of the tunnel, the walls were as they were in the entrance, chiseled and polished stone with occasional gaps that had been glassed off where additional paneling and vital equipment or systems were nestled.  The camera flashed a familiar image, I tensed as static buzzed through and waited until it cleared.  Nothing but shredded bodies, nothing but the secrets these people died with.  I listened to the silence.  For so long I was accustomed to the distant shrieks and mutter of people, behind doors I hoped to never open.  Now, I was buried deep in solid rock, with only the pulse in my bones to alleviate the sterile peace. Murkoff personnel were everywhere, lined against the walls, bodies torn inside out by a force I could never have a want to comprehend.  I doubt any two were slain in the same fashion, or the method of death so violent it was impossible to replicate.  As always, never footprints.  But what ghost had feet? Guts and lungs splattered up walls, I was unsettled by how fresh it appeared to be, but attributed it to the NV.  Thin lines marked the floor, I knew these prints that made long red through copious puddles.  I’d seen the same when I was pushed off an elevator by a lunatic.  They turned when the tunnel curved, ahead light swept into the shadows.  I clicked off the nightvision but hesitated to emerge.  I refused to trust the helpful presence of light, but for now it was welcomed while my camera demanded a fresh battery.  I dropped the old one and set the new one in.  The distant clatter that echoed was a solitary thing throughout the corridor. The wall along my right had the natural mineral trimmed away into flat walls, reinforced with cement, and steel in some areas.  The metal portions were fitted with slates, or shields, that same symbol from the lobby was printed besides the shields.  I stared down, the marks.  Those lines went through these panels, curving around the edge.  I debated the meaning as I took a deep breath and squinted my eyes. They looked like portals or panels that could be moved.  There was a set of powerful looking hydraulic hinges, but otherwise no handles or switches that could gain access.  Probably wouldn’t do me any good anyway.  I fit my fingers along the edge testing for a draft, but judged they were airtight.  Pressure sealed.  This facility was dedicated to science and clinical procedures, despite the butcher of the upper floors.  If there was a way out, hopefully I didn’t need to access it within there.  I could come back, once the rest of the Block was explored. As I resumed on my way, something came to my thoughts, it was a bit random.  In the report it was stated Billy had spoken to the Dr. Wernicke in a white room.  I spun around checking the walls and surrounding surfaces.  This place was pretty white.  But…that wasn’t possible. I looked up and watched a camera connected to the cables in the ceiling revolved slowly, catching all the action as it happened.  I glanced back at the doorway before I continued down the hall. A Block.  The large plate on the wall identified this as A Block, or the whole hall was?  There wasn’t much to it.  I was reminded of the Cell Block’s of the Asylum above – C Block, D Block.  Clearly this was as a part of the Asylum as the condemned sections of the Female Ward.  This didn’t surprise me.  But it could have been coincidence as well.  I’d go with that, since I was done with the conspiracy theories.   The next set of doors had pop marks across the glass and metal, bent out in small boils where bullets had lodged.  The bullets were fully visible in the glass, surrounded by the star shaped impressions that commemorate the battle.  I felt the shadows around me as I huddled in the garden, the branches cracking as something swept through.  That inhuman shrill.  In my ear screaming as the thunder laughs, and my vision fills with white.  Then I’m curled up in the room, the dry wood and cold plaster on either shoulder as I tremble and listen to the ringing in my ears.  The sensation that crawls through me, I can’t explain it.  I’ve lost something, yet, nothing is amiss.  I don’t feel right. I barely glimpsed the panel at my left.  Morphogenic Engine.  I stopped with my hand on the door and bent my head around studying the hall I had moved through.  You know what?  Fuck that.  I can’t conceive what it would look like, what exactly it’s supposed to do.  I don’t care.  I’ll come back!  I promise.  I’ll come back if I have too. That was probably a hollow promise, but my obligations had faded since I stepped off that damn elevator.  I had no luck with elevators. A series of large canisters greeted me on the other side of the doors, pressed to the wall on my left and out of the way.  The label read ‘saline’ substitute.  That sounded kind of weird, wasn’t saline a substitute?  I took in details of the hall, my camera held in no specific position as I walked.  The ceiling retained its natural rock, but the walls on either side resembled the interior of medical labs.  This all looked like existing cave before Murkoff came along and filled it with their nightmare science.  The idea brought me back to the theory of the mountains as the target rather the Asylum, and I wondered about the files I had found dating back before Mount Massive was shut down.  If not for the limestone, then the isolated region was more than worth the resources to insure the quality of their uninterrupted studies. I touched the wall on my left as I neared the doorframe.  The material was metal and possibly reinforced.  I don’t think it was meant for militaristic operations, though they clearly took precautions for their work.  For an invasion or ‘terrorist’ attack, a lot of good it did them. A thin red streak slipped between the open doors I peered through, blood was spread from ceiling to floor.  I blinked, staring.  The air was thick with copper and rot.  I was so tired of that smell, but I just couldn’t get away from it.  It was soaked into my clothing as it was soaking into the walls around me.  I stepped inside, careful of the pieces beside the counter that had once been one or two people.  Maybe three.  All of them spattered over the floor, organs hung in ribbons on counters, pieces of bone scattered over metal cabinets.   I scanned the labels visible through the glassed in shelves.  Most were filled with vials of fluids, many of which sported long, four syllable words with –ine or –phen on the end.  Files were scattered over the sinks and floors, reminders for injections and progress with patients identified by numbers.  I stood beside the rolling chairs and scanned over the room, debating if it was possible that materials remained that I could patch my hands with.  Something actually medical, rather the spare shirt that would be waiting for me in the jeep.   Pipes twisted around the edge of the ceiling.  I followed the sections around the room trying to recall something about pipes.  They were pumping the recycled air throughout the facility, they had to.  Couldn’t risk foreign contamination.  It sounded ridiculous in my head, but I preferred it that way. Revisiting the hall, I turned left.  The black stains of yet more Researchers coated the gray metal of Nitroglycerin tanks, scattered beside the wall.  He was probably in the midst of transporting them when it all happened.  A few tanks managed to stay on the wrecked cart against the wall.  I poked into the next room, the remains of staff had all but painted the walls.  I stumbled as I leaned on the door, just… everywhere I looked, the broken pieces of tissue and body parts was all over.  I have to emphasize the ALL OVER aspect.  I thought the Asylum itself was gruesome, but this was something else entirely. I looked from the doors of the room, shot up by bullets, to the large tank of unmarked gas or fluid.  At the other corner was a medical waste bin piled high with black bags, stuffed with unknown rubbish.  It was a clear violation of sanitation, but for whatever reason Murkoff began to lack in strict policies during its final days.  I was curious to what could be crammed in those bags but they sagged and were covered in unknown gunk, and the smell of residual chemicals did not encourage me.  It was subtle evidence of distress, though at the time this room from a glance gave the delusion of order and regiment.     I stared up as I leaned on the autopsy table bolted to the floors center.  Above, an arm hung from one of the pipes that lapped around the ceiling, dried muscle had peeled back to reveal white bone.  Threads of intestines stuck to files stuffed into the shelves, the jaw of someone was lodged into the space between a drawer and the countertops edge.  It looked like the fleshy tissue of the throat had remained attached. I shut my eyes and rested my weight to my free arm, when I opened my eyes, I noted the pages that had scattered from a folder stained with blood.  Under the harsh lamps the fluids looked fresh, almost new.  The battery in the camera itself was holding strong, I used it to snap the pictures as I skimmed through.  PROJECT WALRIDER  POSTMORTEM PRIMATORY REPORT MM1300921  (form note: all material herein to be transcribed and revised to fit legally binding requirements of Murkoff Corp. records. See form 4083)  AUTHOR: Jennifer Roland  NOTES: My fourteenth autopsy of a Walrider patient, showing no more signs of accepting the therapy than any of the others. There have been slight gains in cell migration and morphogenesis (including effects similar to Human Growth Hormone), but nothing to suggest the stable creation of a sentient, independent swarm. So tired. Doubting my judgment. Will submit another request for leave. The psychological cost of using such far gone and further provoked patients is more than I feel I can handle.  May suggest hanging less hope on the far-flung theories of a senile Nazi and move towards using a simpler mechanical engine based on major sperm protein.  Will definitely suggest harsher chemical restraints. Murkoff Security killed patient 923 after he overcame enough tranquilizers to put down a hockey team. I’m afraid the Hormone Therapy is interacting with our chemical restraints in a counterproductive manner. This file.  This file was very important.  It gave insight that had not been present in past documents.  The use of words in her text made it sound like…. Dr. Wernicke was still alive. I stared at the phrase she included which made the doctors status current, if it was not a mistake of word use.  But that would make him ninety years old, at the least.  I set the file down and looked upon the carnage, the violence, the death.  I corrected myself.  Wernicke had been alive.  I couldn’t imagine him surviving this.  I tossed the file aside and ventured through the door, turning to the corridors end.  Expulsion of gooey innards spread high on the wall, long red lines slid down before the liquid dried. More death, more bodies that had at one time been living people.  I pressed my hand to the wall as I took the right corner, avoiding the skin stretched across polished white floor.  I don’t know why I was self-conscious now, after I had traipsed through mounds of bodies in the Asylums halls.  I couldn’t even come up with a cheap theory.  Every corner, I saw red and wet entrails, black skin and orange puss.  The air was filled with its rancid vapor, from the methane released as the meat soured.  What would they do with all these bodies?  Where could you put them all? I didn’t reach the doors in my path.  I had to stop and lean on the wall, gazing at them.  Doors and more doors.  What would be behind them?  My liberation at last?  I didn’t care, I had to lie down, rest.  The ache in my skull was unbearable, if I took one more step I would fall.  I couldn’t go on like this.  I just kept seeing bodies and faces, images I couldn’t explain.  What was I seeing?  I wasn’t even hiding in the shadows.  The shapes were no longer trapped in my camera. The room spun, I kept myself from stumbling with my hand on the wall as I lowered down.  There was a shallow slant beside the floor, I propped my good side on this to keep the pressure off my ribs.  I kept the camera in my right hand and set it beside me.  I wasn’t planning on sleeping, just needed to give myself a chance to cut the ache.  The floor was cold but it felt so good to lay my head against it.  It didn’t even matter how bright the bulbs were above, I could turn my face into the collar of my coat and shut my eyes. Almost at once I felt my mind descending into a thick blanket of sleep.  I tried to stir from the tempting lull, but I couldn’t resist.  I was surrounded by the corpses of dozens of unnamed scientists but I didn’t give a damn, it was too hard to stay conscious.  I escaped the pain, I escaped the world, and I escaped the cold halls churning in my mind. As I felt my body slip into the illusion of safety, a painful spasm shot up my spine.  I was paralyzed.  The sensation was horrible, my muscles locked up and I couldn’t will them to relax.  It was as if the concept of mobility was ripped from my brain.  I was a prisoner in my body, fully capable of detecting the environment around me but unable to react to it.  I felt the camera in my hand as I slowly regained consciousness, but… I remained unable to rip free of the powerful vice that had seized my chest.  It was too painful to do anything less pathetic than cringe.  I whined as my ribs shifted in my side and gagged.  I was suffocating!  My eyes open drunkenly, dots whirling in my vision as my brain craved oxygen.  I saw something.  A dark shape leaning over me, staring into my face. I barked out a terrified sound and swung my arms out, clipping the wall with my left hand as I thrashed.  I scrambled over the floor struggling to escape thin air, until I was pressed back into the doors.  I stared wild eyed, disturbed and gasping for air, despite the odd tickle in my chest.  There was… Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  The lights blazed down as fierce as when I had dropped, my head pulsed the same as before.  No change.  There was no demon here. The sharp sting returned to my finger as I recalled, I’d just smacked a stone wall with it.  I clutched the shaking hand to my chest, and curled my other arm around it and barred myself in with my knees.  I sat for moment fighting to forget the pain, while my filthy pants soaked up red drops.   “Nothing is here,” I whispered.  “Just a nightmare.”  My voice rattled against the walls, impossibly loud, overpowering briefly the dull buzz that hung over me.  I uncoiled and trusted weight on the bleeding hand to push me upright.  My body was uncooperative but my mental brawn won over. I shut the door behind me and scanned the long corridor ahead.  To my eyes it just went on forever.  Probably wasn’t too far off.  A thick pipe extended overhead, I saw no other visible wires and took this might have been the main electrical.  Beside it metal cabinets jutted from the walls, though the natural stone work remained in this tunnel, along with various protrusions.  Additions, such as flues were burrowed into the rock on either side, and another thick gray pipe extended along the ceiling. Electricity was in the air, I could feel it like the hum from a television when you first turn it on.  But it’s forceful, charged in the empty space but not in the walls themselves.  Maybe it was the lamps overhead.  I set my hand on the gray pipe testing the vibrations but felt none.  I ignored the marks of blood I left behind, as I walked and swayed around the huge tanks.  Many stood my height but none held clear labels, just a serial label printed on the metal top.   The sides of the floor were marked with caution strips, and other more descript warning lines marked the floor every few feet.  I skimmed over the large pipes bent and twisted along the corridor walls, of what they transported I couldn’t say.  Looked like aqueducts, but I doubted this.  Pallets stacked high with bags and covered with a blue tarp, had been abandoned in the hall. I tried to peel back the plastic cover and record what was beneath but the material was thick.  I also lacked the patience.  I slipped over the top rather crawl around. Judging by the layout of this tunnel, I could deduce this was not a main wing but dedicated to temporary storage hall.  Plans in the schedule might have included park the pellets in a more particle space, but that was before the shit storm hit.  Or this was another example of a lapse in protocol.  I winced when another thought hit.  Files existed that made note on the cutback in staff costs.  The man I had seen playing the piano.  Had he been a patient? I jumped when the camera sputtered, the noise echoed from the chiseled walls.  Damn it!  That scared the shit out of me!  I held it away as the visor cleared, and continued walking.  The files would be corrupt, I decided.  But I could still salvage them, I had equipment for that.  My shoulders shook on the thought of reviewing what I had recorded.  The sounds I made when I ran from Trager.  It didn’t even sound like me.  Was that really me? I said that allowed, and paused to glance around wondering if it was I that had spoken.  I barely began walking when I noticed to my left, a window.  I skid to a stop and backed up.  A window!  Transparent hand prints of red stained the surface, but beyond that sunlight.  Sunlight!  From the outside!  It was all clear golden sky, rolling hills.  No more storms filled with monsters shrieking with the thunder!  The outside world was still out there.  It was waiting just for me.   I was staring into a militaristic hangar, a few vehicles parked under the steel structure ceiling, the walls stretched around appeared reinforced.  Most important of all, there was no sign of life, no movement.  Just equipment, materials, large barrels of god knows what.  And that beautiful sunlight washed across the military jeep wedged in the doorway.  If I was viewing it from the correct angle, no one was going to close that door unless they packed some powerful explosives.  Or, had the key to the jeep.  I held the camera up and filmed what I was seeing, while trying not to get too close to the Plexiglas.  There had to be— Ah. Over there!  Far right wall, lit up like Christmas.  A purge gate.  From the distance and discoloration of the window, I couldn’t validate if it functioned or not.  But it didn’t matter, it was the first entrance/exit I had come across.  There didn’t seem to be any difficulty in dismantling those purge gates though.  How did I get over there? I tracked the hall that continued before me, with my eyes.  If I had a map, no doubt it’d have an arrow indicating this way led to the exit.  Large blue barrels sat in my path, I could view traces of blood on the walls just beyond them. Directly behind me, another set of doors clear and featureless.  Above the frame a green bulb, indicating they were unlocked?  I stared into the white hall within, while my mind hunted for escape.  I had visions of myself entering that small hall and an alarm going off, a steel shutter lowering like in some James Bond film and me stuck inside forever because I just couldn’t let go. Or maybe I was afraid to?  Could that be it? The doors parted automatically upon detecting my movement, the plastic panels issued a soft hiss as frigid air swept out.  I paused in the entrance, not doubting my fears, whichever ones I had.  I debated turning away and just leaving, working on that gate and my inevitable freedom.  But I really couldn’t have too much evidence. I said that once before.  But maybe I was right.  I was afraid. The short hall was cold, the air crisp, fresh.  One of the two doors was left open, which explained the drop in temperature.  It was a small room filled with freezers, all below zero temperatures.  I stepped around the right side trying a few of the doors, but they required access codes through key panels.  At the left side of the room a door had been smashed, the locking mechanism no longer active allowed numerous clear vials to spill across the floor.  Whatever the contents, they had dried and converted white limestone into varying shades of iridescent.  I kicked a few away with my foot and listened as the glass crinkled as I turned.  Along the back wall of the room sat lesser refrigerated cabinets, the contents exposed through foggy glass.   Beside them, a dry erase board.  I stood before it, my camera giving its usual complaint as I waited patiently for it to quiet.  It was some form of chemical engineering algorithm, exponents and a formula function I did not recognize.  All in blue marker, except for the title at the top, which was a simple label written in black.  

Morphogenic Engine

[scoutception]

Chaos;Child review

Steins;Gate; it’s one of the most popular visual novels ever made, for very, very good reason. While I had played my fair share visual novels before, namely Ace Attorney, Danganronpa, and Zero Escape, Steins;Gate was still a very special experience for me that instantly launched me into the wider world of visual novels. More than anything, though, it made me extremely curious about the rest of the franchise around it; not just the sequel to it, Steins;Gate 0, but the whole rest of the Science Adventure series. For a bit of a rundown, the first game in this series, that many fans of Steins;Gate very likely have no clue about, was a title called Chaos;Head. Focusing on an extremely reclusive and paranoid high school student named Takumi Nishijou, who has his life thrown into chaos after witnessing the latest in a series of murders known as the New Generation Madness, it was an interesting story with a heavy focus on delusions, creating an interesting experience that, while still ultimately clear and conclusive, leaves you in the dark the majority of the time in regards to just what is happening, and how much is even real. While a good effort all around that served as a great base for Steins;Gate, it was ultimately held down by a lot of things, from smaller things like a pretty generic and unmemorable artstyle and mostly unremarkable voice acting, to much more noticeable things, from the slow, unfocused plot, to the underutilized cast of characters who never come together as a group, mostly just dropping in and out on an individual basis whenever the plot needs them, to the choice system of the game, the delusion trigger, which allows you to view a positive or negative scene Takumi imagines in response to surprising or stressful situations, being pretty much pointless, only rarely giving a better glimpse into Takumi’s characterization, to Takumi himself being extremely creepy, cowardly, and all around unlikeable, and not getting sufficient development across the story to make up for it, at least until the very last chapter. While it did get an updated version, Chaos;Head Noah, Chaos;Head was nonetheless buried beyond saving by Steins;Gate, not helped by not having an official localization to this day. As the cherry on top, it had a terrible anime adapation that tried to fit a fairly lengthy VN into a mere 12 episodes, completely wrecking the pacing, making the story even more confusing than was intended, and using an entire episode on useless filler to top it off. The reason I went into detail on that is, well, the subject of today’s review; Chaos;Head’s sequel, Chaos;Child. Chaos;Child is in an interesting spot in the series, firstly because as of right now, it’s the only main VN in the series other than the two Steins;Gate titles to have an official localization, and while both Robotics;Notes and Robotics;Notes DaSH are set to be localized this year, it still means it’s the only other title around to experience until those come out, at least in an official fashion. Secondly, unlike Steins;Gate 0 and Robotics;Notes DaSH, Chaos;Child is only a thematic sequel, with the cast of Chaos;Head not returning, with the exception of one side character having a fairly prominent role, and a few references and cameos for others. The main cast is otherwise a clean slate, and concepts of Chaos;Head are taken at a different angle. Aside from helping keep things fresh, it also allows it to take its own pace with introducing and explaining the main concepts, making it still cohesive even without having gone through Chaos;Head, though it’s still connected in important ways. The main point is, you don’t have to go through Chaos;Head to enjoy Chaos;Child, which is very good considering the various problems surrounding Chaos;Head. Now, the question is, is Chaos;Child worth going through by itself? The short answer is, absolutely, yes. It is a fantastic experience on par with Steins;Gate, and I would recommend it with all my passion. You can get it on PS4 or Steam. Seriously, go for it. As for the long answer, well, buckle in, because this’ll be a ride.

Chaos;Child takes place in 2015, 6 years after a devastating earthquake that utterly wrecked the ward of Shibuya during the events of Chaos;Head, leaving many physical and mental scars on the populace. Though Shibuya has since been rebuilt, a series of bizarre murders begin to occur on the days of the New Generation Madness, the series of killings that gripped Shibuya in the days before the earthquake. These killings, dubbed the Return of the New Generation Madness, leave the citizens of Shibuya morbidly captivated, much as the original incidents did, and unfortunately leave the police with no clues as to the identity of the culprit, seemingly leaving them to continue their crimes unopposed. Enter Takuru Miyashiro, a senior at Hekiho Academy and president of its newspaper club. Takuru was orphaned by the Shibuya earthquake and adopted by Wataru Sakuma, a doctor who has a foster home in the same building as his clinic, though Takuru has moved out into an RV by the time of the game due to an argument with his foster sister, Nono Kurusu, the student council president and vice president of the newspaper club. With the help of the other members of the club, Serika Onoe, Takuru’s reckless and rather dense childhood friend, Shinji Itou, Takuru’s confident best friend with an interest in bizarre murders such as the New Generation Madness, and Hana Kazuki, a mute girl who spends most of her time playing MMOs in the club room, Takuru conducts his own investigation of the Return of the New Generation Madness despite Nono’s concerns for his safety, independently discovering many clues and connections, such as the presence of the mysterious and creepy “Sumo Stickers” at the site of each murder. After taking his investigations too far and stumbling upon the scene of the latest murder, Takuru finds increasing evidence of the killer having capabilities far beyond that of a normal human- and that his discoveries may have put him in danger of becoming the next victim.

While this sounds much like the basic premise of Chaos;Head, in practice it’s very different. In Chaos;Heads, the New Gen murders, though certainly important, mostly just played out in the background, with Takumi rarely directly being involved. By contrast, the murders in Chaos;Child, and the mysteries around them, are the focus of the game, and it’s very worthy of it. The mysteries and reveals around them are downright fascinating, and gives the player just as many hints for them to follow as the characters, making for a very interesting plot to follow. Chaos;Child is also notable for being much, much darker than the previous entries in the series, which weren’t exactly flowers and rainbows themselves. The murders themselves are extremely gruesome and disturbing, the reveals don’t pull any sort of punches, and the majority of the game’s endings lie much closer to the bitter end of bittersweet, compared to, say, Steins;Gate’s endings. While it can get a bit draining by the end, Chaos;Child makes it work, never pushing you to the extent of becoming apathetic despite the horrors and tragedy of the plot, which is owed in large part to the well written and very sympathetic cast of characters.

Everyone in the main cast manages to be interesting, fun to have around, or both. Takuru himself is a very good protagonist, despite having a very unlikeable start. He’s arrogant, reckless, extremely awkward, overly stubborn, and downright petty in a lot of ways, especially regarding his obsession with staying on the “right side” of information, not to mention him treating the murders as something exciting and a way to get famous. Despite all that, he has a lot of development across the game, and starts early on it. He’s also got a much rougher past than some of the previous protagonists, which helps explain how he grew into the person he is.

Some of the other more memorable members of the cast include Hinae Arimura, who, though hyper and friendly on the surface, hides a very sharp tongue and a fairly cynical nature, Mio Kunosato, the exceedingly harsh, obsessive, and resourceful scientist investigating the Return of the New Generation Madness on her own, who makes an interesting contrast to the rest of the cast just because of how completely unpleasant she is, Shinji, who manages to be a much more likeable character than some of the previous obligatory male friends in the series, and my personal favorite, Nono, who despite seemingly being an unfairly harsh big sister type, quickly establishes herself as an extremely caring person, with a lot more emotional baggage than she lets on. A good chunk of the game’s emotional moments involve her, particularly her attempts to fix her very strained relationship with Takuru.

While all the characters make at least decent impressions to begin with, what helps them even further is the additional ending routes, branching off from the normal route depending on specific choices you make throughout the game. Compared to the way Steins;Gate handles its endings, these are full chapters, putting much more focus on characters such as Hinae and Hana, taking the plot in completely different directions. Not only are the stories of them interesting on their own, they do a great job of developing the characters and showing them from different perspectives.

What caps off the writing is the absolutely fantastic atmosphere the game builds. It goes very heavy with horror elements compared to Chaos;Head, and doesn’t skimp in any area. While it’s got the visuals down, the main strength is the buildup, suspense, and narrative description, all of which is fantastically done. Tense scenes go at a steady enough pace to let each small thing sink in, without being drawn out enough that you lose interest, and the much less ambiguous nature on what scenes are real or not makes any shifts of that sort much more effectively jarring. It’s seriously one of my favorite atmospheres in a game, and makes for a great experience for anyone even slightly a fan of horror.

The subject of “fake” scenes brings me to the main gameplay element of Chaos;Child: the Delusion Trigger. Every once in a while, a situation will make Takuru imagine a positive or negative delusion regarding it, with you being able to choose one to view before snapping back to the regular scene like nothing happened. While a decent idea on paper, like in Chaos;Head, it really doesn’t add much most of the time, and despite being your method for accessing the different endings, it really doesn’t tie into them at all. At the least, though, it does a decent job of showing Takuru is much less mature than he tries to appear, and if nothing else, they’re gold mines for random screenshots. They also appear less and less frequently as the game goes on, which helps keep them from distracting from more serious scenes.

On a more technical side of things, visually speaking, I like the look of the game quite a bit. While it doesn’t reach the heights of Steins;Gate in character designs or the general artstyle, though that’s a very high bar to reach for, the sprites, backgrounds, and CGs are all very well drawn on their own, and the designs are at least more distinctive than in Chaos;Head. The visuals also do a large part to help with the atmosphere; while it looks light on the surface, many scenes use lighting filters that do a lot to help the mood, and the CGs do not disappoint when they get serious.

The UI also looks great, and furthers the atmosphere even more. From the shadowy ends of the dialogue boxes moving passively, to the menu screen’s rolling fog, to the odd borders of the screen during delusions, it has a very stylish look.

Chaos;Child doesn’t disappoint on the audio side of things either. Series composer Takeshi Abo puts out a great soundtrack, as usual, with many catchy or atmospheric themes, along with vocal themes that are absolutely fantastic. The voice acting is also very good, with just about everyone giving out a great performance, in particular Yoshitsugu Matsuoka as Takuru, Sumire Uesaka as Serika, Sarah Emi Bridcutt as Nono, Suzuko Mimori as Hinae, and Risa Taneda as Mio.

The last thing to mention is that Chaos;Child is a very long visual novel. Not quite as monsterous as some, but it’s still a significant time drain, and while there is an anime adaptation, it is a terrible alternative. While not outright awful by itself, especially compared to Chaos;Head’s anime, 12 episodes is simply not enough time to make the story work. Not only does it have to rush to make nearly every chapter fit into one episode, absolutely ruining the pacing, it doesn’t adapt the other endings in any way, making a lot of the characters come off as way less developed, and couldn’t even adapt the true ending at first, which is just disgraceful. The visual novel is the only real way to experience it. And now that we’re at this point, I suppose it’s conclusion time.

Is Chaos;Child something I would recommend? 100% absolutely. Between the fantastic atmosphere, great cast of characters, and fascinating and emotional story, it is a special kind of experience that proudly stands with Steins;Gate as one of the greatest visual novels out there, in a genre with many fantastic works. It can be a bit slow to start, but once it gets going, it stays an amazing experience.

With that giant rant out of the way, I’m off to start on the last thing in the series there is for me to tackle as of now: Steins;Gate 0. Till next time. -Scout

[witcherarcanathings]

Where the Water Tastes like Wine Pt. 3 OC x Valerius series

Part One, Part Two (Lemon), Part 4, Part Five

Valerius paced back and forth in his study, occasionally looking up at the clock, enraged.  

It had been two hours since he had sent his servant for the witch and she had not appeared. He was not going to go without his noontime glass.

 “BOY!” he barked. Within moments the young servant with black hair and pale green eyes appeared.

 “Where is the witch?” He demanded. “It’s been several hours.”

“Yes S-sir.” the boy stammered. “I went to her rooms to fetch her, and she said she would be along shortly.”

“YOu told me that an hour ago fool,” Valerius aimed his words  at the like daggers.

“S-Sir, I did, Sir...forgive me...I…” the boy whimpered

“Spit it out!” Valeried snapped.

“I went back to get her sir, I said it was urgent. She just waved me away and said she would come, that she was busy with more pressing matters.” he quivered, eyes not daring to look up from the ground.

 Valerius felt his jaw clench, and bawled his fist. She was what? He seethed. What business could have pressed her more than a summons from Vesuvia’s Consul? Nothing that’s what, he answered his own question. She was just making him wait. Making him suffer.

“You bring her here,” he said through clenched teeth, “Now.”

 The boy ran out of the room, too frightened to bow before exiting.

To the Consul’s relief, the boy came back a quarter of an hour later, exhausted and out of breath. Valerius was pleased.

“Announcing Fury, palace magician, my lord,” the boy said through ragged breaths.

When Fury entered, he waved the boy away. The boy bowed and left quickly, happy to escape the ire of his master.

Valerius stared at her in silence, watching her shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Good, he thought. She was nervous. She should be for making someone of his standing wait. The nerve.

 She was wearing a sapphire blue dress of the finest silk, long sleeves, with a plunging neckline showcasing a gold necklace with a raw emerald that dangled between her almond brown chest. Her dark coils hung around her like a halo, a gold band keeping them from falling to her face. 

 Though her gaze was penetrating and intelligent, Valerius couldn’t figure why everyone at the palace had become so taken with her. She was plump and curvy, and he took note of her hands tugging nervously at where her dress hugged her hips and thick thighs. 

What was it about her that interested him so? She had a strange sort of beauty, and he admitted that he found her attractive. But he had lovers who surpassed her. If he really thought about it, perhaps there was nothing to her. Afterall, she was just the apprentice of that Harbor Rat Magician, he shouldn’t even find her remotely appealing. 

But he did. Even with her cheek. Especially because of it. 

He turned his expression away in boredom.

"You wished to see me Consul? The apprentice asked, apparently annoyed at the prolonged silence. 

“Is it some witchy custom to keep their betters waiting, or is that just your usual impertinent behavior?” Valerius droned.

“I’m investigating the Count’s Murder,” she said curtly. “Unless you have any additional evidence, anything else is secondary. Wouldn’t you agree Consul?”

Damn her, Valerius swore. He kept his features cool and even, steepling his fingers and reclining into his chair. “Apologies, Magician. Given your qualifications and experience in such matters, I had forgotten Nadia had appointed you as investigator for our beloved Count.”

 Fury ignored his remark and asked, “Was there something I could help you with?”

 "Yes,” valerius answered, pulling a glass of wine from seemingly out of nowhere. 

"Fix this." He commands placing his wine glass on the table and sweeping his had across it with a flourish. 

 Fury gave a sly smile. "If the Consul wishes to have more wine, I'm sure a servant would be better suited to assist you." 

"Don't mock me, witch!" Valerius snapped. "You know what you've done, and you will undo it immediately!" 

 Fury straightened and held up her forefinger. "First of all," she began, " I'm not a witch, as I've already told you." 

 She took a few steps towards him, eyes cool and dark. "Perhaps the Consul has forgotten so I'll say it clearly. I'm a magician. Ma-GI-cian," She clapped her hands assertively, emphasizing the syllables. "My powers reach far beyond that of some common witch," she explained," If I were a witch I’d turn you into the ass you  are and not-" 

"Not resort to childish antics as cursing my wine to taste like water?" Valerius quipped. 

"I was about to say not deal with your condescending bullshit." Fury countered, hands on her wide hips. 

"Watch your tongue," Valerius snarled. How dare she take that tone with him.

 "I thought you were doing that already, Consul." She shot teased, smirking when she saw Valerius’ cheeks flush pink, eyes shifting away from her. Embarrassment was an emotion he rarely felt, but one he dealt out gratuitously.

 Valerius changed the subject, quickly. He wasn't going to let that tricky little witch distract him. He put on his customary sneer, "SO you admit that pathetic little display of yours was meant to curse me." 

 She scoffed, waving her hand as if swatting a fly. "I didn't say that. What I am saying is that I'm in no inclination or obligation to assist you.That 'pathetic little display', as you put it, was meant to make sure you didn't break eye contact while I was working my magic, and it worked." She said smiling." You couldn't look away, could you Consul?" 

 Valerius furrowed his brow. He couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused. She was making a fool of him and she knew it, and he had no recourse. 

 He straightened himself, and rose from his desk stepping coolly towards Fury."As the palace magician-" 

 "As the palace magician I've done nothing but been ridiculed or undermined by you, Valerius. You've made a point of trying to belittle my decisions and recommendations to the Countess from day one. You make snide remarks at court about my hair or my dress. You seem to relish making my place here difficult. Yet despite all that, I've managed to do my job. And  I do not have time to waste dealing with your problems." Fury was not having it today.

“A problem you caused!” Valerius hissed, pointing his finger accusingly at the magician.

 “No, Consul,” Fury said softly but strongly, “A problem you caused the moment you decided to insult me in front of the entire court.” 

Valerius stared at her for a moment, not sure what to do or say next. They stood together in silence, neither of them moving, neither giving way until Valerius watched the magician approached his desk and come upon the wine glass.

“You’ve decided to remove your curse, witch?” he sneered.

“You’ve decided to apologize?” she quipped.

Valerius laughed at the thought. “For what reason? You’ve had your fun and gotten your revenge. It’s not necessary.” he said sighing. He hoped his show of indifference hadn’t enraged her enough to change her mind.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She said cooly, keeping her eyes away from his.

 The apprentice took Valerius' glass and pressed it to her lips taking a small sip.  

"Tastes fine to me," She shrugged. 

 "I know it does damn it!" He snarled," Don't play games. You cursed me. Not the wine. It only tastes like water to me."   

Fury sighed,"It's all about you isn't it. Your position, your status, your wine. You didn't  even bother to ask me what I want." 

“I don’t give a damn about what you want, witch.” he cursed, infuriated. “ As Consul of Vesuvia I order you to remove the spell, or I’ll have you arrested.”

Fury laughed. Whether she was being haughty or was actually nervous, Valerius couldn’t tell.

“I’ve already told you. You have the ability to break it yourself. There was no need to send that poor boy to come drag me from my work.”

“Exactly how could I have done that? I’m no witch.” he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, trying to stave off a building headache. When he opened them he could have sworn a look of concern had crossed Fury’s face that passed as quickly as he caught it.

“Surely you know your Latin, finely educated as you are. And as I’ve said the problem is your answer.Or rather the answer is the problem.” She sighed stepping closer to him. So close to him that  Valerius could smell the same scent that reminded him of a field of oats bathed in sunlight. It was almost calming, enticing. He could picture himself walking among billowing stalks of grain, like the ones bordering his vineyard.

He was finding it hard to be angry with her now. “Help me please.” he looked into her eyes, and stuck him arm out to her, “There’s no need for this to go any further. Remove the curse, and apologize, and I’ll forget the whole thing.”

If it wasn’t for his last words, she might have given him the answer. She was actually hoping he wasn’t as actually as bad as she thought. First impressions are often wrong but...Apologize? He expected her to apologize? Absolutely not. He had humiliated her, and hadn’t even given it a second thought. The whole point of this was to make him respect her, to let him know that while she might be quiet and kind, that didn’t make her an easy target for his japes. 

“I can’t help you,” she answered quickly, “It’s within your own power to resolve, I’ve given you the answer.” She turned away. “If you’ll excuse me I need to use the library.” she said over her shoulder as she walked briskly towards the door.

Valerius was livid.  “Don’t you walk away from me, witch!” He bellowed,“You were not excused! COme back at -” 

The only sound he heard was the sound of the large oak doors closing behind her. 

He would have considered going after her if it wasn’t for his pride. He resolved to break her curse, he wasn’t going to beg. 

But he’d make it his business to bring the witch the witch to her knees.

No one walked away from him.

I knew this took awhile, but I’ve had some other ideas, and other wips, and I’ll be finishing the next part by this weekend. Probably the next one will have some fluff/smut. IDK where Fury is going with this. Honestly, I don’t think she does either. Also I’m trying to learn how to draw so I can show her to you all. Thanks! 😃

[centerofstupidity]

Varney the Vampire Chapter 3

If you enjoy the content you are reading, please like and follow the Center of Stupidity blog.

Interested in reading the previous Varney the Vampire chapter snarks? They can be found here. 

Chapter summary: Our intrepid heroes the local village idiots shoot Varney. Of course, Varney is wearing thick plot armor.

Which means we get another chapter where characters standing and talking along with more melodrama.

In the event that this gets flagged, here is another place to read the chapter snark. 

"He is human!" cried Henry;

You just saw a guy with "metallic eyes" whose mouth was "dabbled in blood" after attacking Flora.

But you are still coming to the conclusion that Varney is human...

Wow, somebody has the I.Q. of Bella Swan.

And yes...

I know that prior to this story being published, vampire lore wasn't well known and culturally speaking vampires were a rather new phenomenon in England.

But if somebody saw what Henry had seen, their first thought wouldn't be "That guy was human and not a supernatural creature."

"I have surely killed him."  

He was wearing thick plot armor.

Marchdale agrees and says that they should go outside the wall and find the body.

And here comes a long sentence.

This was at once agreed to,

Hopefully this means we won't have another chapter where characters are just standing around talking to each other.

and the whole three of them made what expedition they could towards a gate

Who knew heading towards a gate was such a strenuous task?

which let into a paddock, across which they hurried, and soon found themselves clear of the garden wall,

According to Merriam Webster, a paddock is usually enclosed area used especially for pasturing or exercising animals.

And the Collins dictionary states that a paddock is a field where horses are kept or exercised.

So why would anyone have a garden next to a paddock?

First of all, you'd be smelling animal droppings.

And the end of the day, somebody would be walking the animals through the garden in order to put them in the stable or barn.

So...

so that they could make way towards where they fully expected to find the body of him

And I bet dollars to doughnuts that they won't find a corpse.

who had worn so unearthly an aspect,

Maybe because he is....

I don't know... Not human!

but who it would be an excessive relief to find was human.

Because a blood-drinking fiend is normal.  

So hurried was the progress they made,

That they were sweating like pigs!

that it was scarcely possible to exchange many words as they went;

Unless they suddenly lost the ability to speak...

They can still talk.

a kind of breathless anxiety was upon them,

Sorry, authors.

I don't care what happens to these people.

and in the speed they disregarded every obstacle,

Because in a potential dangerous situation...

It is sensible to be unaware of one's surroundings.

which would, at any other time, have probably prevented them from taking the direct road they sought.

Is the gate obstructed by litter or debris?

If so, why?

And if not, what would have prevented them from taking the direct route?

It was difficult on the outside of the wall to say exactly which was the precise spot which it might be supposed the body had fallen on; 

Unless Henry has the attention span of a ferret high on crack...

Henry should remember where he shot Varney.

And by knowing that, he could determine where the body should be.

but, by following the wall its entire length, surely they would come upon it.

I bet that they are not going to find a body.

They did so; but, to their surprise,

Found a leprechaun.

they got from its commencement to its further extremity without finding any dead body, or even any symptoms of one having lain there.

Varney is alive!

Well... For a member of the Undead.

At some parts close to the wall there grew a kind of heath,  and, consequently, the traces of blood would be lost among it,

According to Collins Dictionary, a heath is an area of open land covered with rough grass or heather and with very few trees or bushes.

And Merriam Webster defines it as a type of plant or uncultivated land usually with poor and coarse soil.  

Which means they are referring to a type of plant.

So unless it has the magical ability to absorb blood...

The three men should be able to find blood if Varney was wounded.

And now that I'm thinking about it, a vampire plant is a cool idea.

if it so happened that at the precise spot at which the strange being had seemed to topple over, such vegetation had existed.

Ugh. Reading this made my brain hurt.

So there was some vegetation when Varney fell over...

And now it no longer exists.

Even though we were told a few seconds ago that the plants made it impossible to see any blood.

So the three guys walk around the wall twice and they can't find anything.

"It could not have been a delusion," at length said Mr. Marchdale, with a shudder.

Also, that's not how delusions work. 

Just you see something, doesn't mean that it is real. 

And sometimes the delusions are very vivid. 

"Then what terrible explanation can we give?"

This sentence sounds weird. It is because they used the word "terrible". Right now, it sounds like one of the men are asking for a bad explanation. 

I think the correct word would be "other." But as Mark Twain wisely said:

"By heavens! I know not," exclaimed Henry. 

If you knew what was going on, then you wouldn't be bewildered.

"This adventure surpasses all belief, and but for the great interest we have in it, I should regard it with a world of curiosity."

*Takes a deep breath *

That's right, gentlepersons.

A person has been brutally attacked.

But the situation is described as being an "adventure."

Fuck this book with a chainsaw!

"It is too dreadful," said George; "for God's sake, Henry, let us return to ascertain if poor Flora is killed."

You mean that it is a good idea to do an investigation before coming to a conclusion???

"My senses," said Henry, "were all so much absorbed in gazing at that horrible form, that I never once looked towards her further than to see that she was, to appearance, dead. God help her! poor -- poor, beautiful Flora. This is, indeed, a sad, sad fate for you to come to. Flora -- Flora -- "

"Do not weep, Henry," said George. "Rather let us now hasten home, where we may find that tears are premature. She may yet be living and restored to us."

They all agree and hurried back to the house.

Henry, after some trouble, got the hall door opened by a terrified servant, who was trembling so much that she could scarcely hold the light she had with her.

"Speak at once, Martha," said Henry. "Is Flora living?"

  "Yes; but -- "

  "Enough -- enough! Thank God she lives; where is she now?"

Martha says that Flora is in her bedroom and proceeds to freak out.  The three guys rush into the room.

Several lights had been now brought into that antique chamber,

But they clashed with the decor.

and, in addition to the mother of the beautiful girl who had been so fearfully visited,

Somebody placed a creepy clown doll on the nightstand.

there were two female domestics, who appeared to be

using their cell phones and are on Twitter.

in the greatest possible fright,

Because after seeing Flora's mother in a sheer nightgown...

Somethings can't be unseen.

for they could render no assistance whatever to anybody.

Translation?

They are useless.

The tears were streaming down the mother's face,

Because some asshole randomly decided to cut a lot of onions.

and the moment she saw Mr. Marchdale, she clung to his arm,

She was doing a Bella Swan impersonation.

evidently unconscious of what she was about,

Um...

She suddenly doesn't know who she is?

and exclaimed, --

Shitty dialogue mixed with an exposition dump.

"Oh, what is this that has happened -- what is this? Tell me, Marchdale! Robert Marchdale, you whom I have known even from my childhood, you will not deceive me. Tell me the meaning of all this?"

Aside from the "As you know Bob" dialogue...

The mother called Marchdale by his surname and then used his full name.

This doesn't make any sense.

In Victorian times, especially in formal settings, people would be referred to by their surnames or titles.

But if people were friends, they would be calling each other by their first name.

So the mother would be referring to Richard Marchdale as Richard.

Also, just because you know someone from childhood....

It doesn't mean that they are a honest person.

"I cannot," he said, in a tone of much emotion.

"As God is my judge, I am as much puzzled and amazed at the scene that has taken place here to-night as you can be."

And in other news, the Pope is Catholic and bears shit in the woods.

Anyway, the mother bawled her eyes out. I don't blame her.

I would too if I found out that I was a character in a penny dreadful.

"It was the storm that first awakened me," added Marchdale; "and then I heard a scream."

Let's rewind, shall we?

Marchdale asked the two brothers what's going on.

Then Flora started shrieking.

The sound caused Flora's mom to faint.

Marchdale grabs her so she doesn't hit the floor.

He tells Harry/Henry to hold his mother.

Finally, Marchdale cries “Follow me who can!” as he heads towards Flora's room.

What does all this mean?

Flora's mother and the three men heard a noise. Which means, Marchdale wasn't the only one that heard screaming.

Also, Marchdale never previously mentioned that he was awakened by the storm.

Normally, the second point wouldn't be suspicious. But considering the fact that Marchdale lied...

It sounds like he is trying to create an alibi.

In conclusion?

Anyway, the brothers are quivering as they approach the bed. Flora is sitting in bed, being propped up with pillows.

She was quite insensible,

How is this unusual?

It would be MORE surprising if Flora was in a lively mood.

and her face was fearfully pale;

All you need is some glitter, and Flora would be a perfect sparklepire.

while that she breathed

Another vampire failed in killing a damsel in distress.

at all

If Flora doesn't breathe, she would be dead.

could be but very faintly seen.

Um...

People normally don't take deep and heavy breaths.

On some of her clothing,

There was yellow stains.

about the neck, were spots of blood,

How is that possible???

When Varney bit Flora, blood was gushing. 

Which means the nightgown and the bed sheets should be soaked with blood. 

and she looked more like one who had suffered some long and grievous illness,  

You mean when someone is mauled by a vampire, they aren't going to look gorgeous??

Thanks for letting me know!

than a young girl in the prime of life and in the most robust health,

"She was so fit that she could do a triathlon!"

as she had been on the day previous

Because according to Varney the Vampire's logic...

Only healthy people are attacked by vampires.

to the strange scene we have recorded.

It isn't a normal occurrence to be attacked by a vampire.

"Does she sleep?" said Henry

Because the first words that should come out of a person's mouth after someone has been attacked...

Is to ask if they are sleeping.

as a tear fell from his eyes upon her pallid cheek.

Ah, the single tear.

How nauseating.

"No," replied Mr. Marchdale. "This is a swoon, from which we must recover her."

Quick! Somebody fetch the smelling salts!

Active measures were now adopted

Because reviving a damsel in distress is urgent!

Cue the dramatic music!

to restore the languid circulation,

Uh, "languid circulation"?

According to Merriam Webster, languid is defined as being "sluggish" or "lacking in force or quickness in movement."

Correct me if I'm wrong...

If somebody has slow circulation, it means that they have a serious health problem.

and, after persevering in them for some time, they had the satisfaction of seeing her open her eyes.

Instead of being relieved that Flora is awake...

They seem annoyed that it took so long for her to regain consciousness.

Her first act upon consciousness returning,

Was to exclaim her undying devotion to Varney.

however, was to utter a loud shriek,

A shriek is hardly quiet.

and it was not until Henry implored her

"Implored her”?

I guess only a filthy peasant would have used the word begged or pleaded.

to look around her,

To find that the hills are alive with the sound of music.

and see that she was surrounded by none but friendly faces, that she would venture again to open her eyes,

...

.......

Previously, Flora's eyes were already open.

But now, her eyes were closed but she then opened them.

'Ello contradiction!

and look timidly from one to the other.

At least she looked at them "timidly".

It would be unbecoming of a lady to act like a New Woman.

After Flora shuttered, she starts crying and says:

"Oh, Heaven, have mercy upon me -- Heaven, have mercy upon me and save me from that dreadful form."

"There is no one here, Flora," said Mr. Marchdale, 

There is:

Mr. Marchdale

Harry/Henry

George

Flora's mother

Two female servants

In total, there are six people in the room excluding Flora.

What Marchdale meant to say was there is nobody here that will harm her.

But as Mark Twain wisely said:

"but those who love you,

"If they really hated you, they would have buried you alive."

and who, in defence of you, if needs were would lay down their lives."

"Despite the fact that you have the personality of stale toast, we would die to save you."

Now that I'm thinking about it... If this was an Anita Blake book, this would result into a sex scene.

So after Mr. Marchdale's declaration, Flora starts yelling "Oh, God!"

"You have been terrified.

"Mr. Marchdale, why are you repeating the obvious?"

"It is because the authors think that the reader has the IQ of a house plant."

But tell us distinctly what has happened?

Gotta love how they must be told "distinctly".

I guess only peasants would only ask what happened.

You are quite safe now."

"Ignore the fact that while you were mauled by an unholy abomination, we bumblefucked around. But believe me when I say that everything is going to be alright."

She trembled so violently that

She resembled a chihuahua defecating on the lawn.

Mr. Marchdale recommended that some stimulant should be give to her,

Because even though the unholy creature will most likely return to try and suck Flora dry, it is best that she be high as a kite.

and she was persuaded,

Because it is like her mama taught her: when somebody offers free drugs, you accept the offer and then ask for a straw.

although not without considerable difficulty,

Because it was the first time, she stuck a needle in her vein.

to swallow a small portion of some wine from a cup.

Because drinking something is a strenuous task.

There could be no doubt but

First it was certain but now it isn't. 

In conclusion:

that the stimulating effect of the wine

Alcohol is a depressant.  

was beneficial,

Because when someone has been traumatized, the best thing to do is give them booze.

for a slight accession of colour 

According to the Cambridge dictionary, "accession" is a time when a country officially joins a group of countries or signs an agreement. It is also used when someone starts a position of authority especially a king or queen.

While Merriam-Webster defines "accession" as a process that someone rises to a position of power or something being added (such as an acquisition).

Which means that "accession" is not a synonym for "spread" or "blushed."

So in conclusion:

visited her cheeks,

At least it visited her.

A churl would have arrived unannounced.

and she spoke in a firmer tone as she said, --

Spoke is past tense word for speak and said is a past tense word for say.

Both words are used when someone is talking.

Which makes this part of this sentence redundant: . . . colour visited her cheeks, and she spoke in a firmer tone as she said, --

Personally, I would remove re-write the sentence as this:

. . . colour visited her cheeks and she spoke in a firm voice.

  "Do not leave me. Oh, do not leave me, any of you. I shall die if left alone now. Oh, save me -- save me. That horrible form! That fearful face!"

There is only so much melodrama that a person can endure, so I'll try to summarize some of it.

Henry asks Flora what happened. Flora then refuses to tell him.

Her reasoning? If she did that, then she would "ever sleep again."

Eventually, Henry convinces Flora to tell them what had transpired.

She placed her hands over her face for a moment, as if to collect her scattered thoughts,

Last time I checked...

If someone placed their hands over the face, it doesn't stop them from losing their train of thought.

and then she added, --

"By the way, I'm bi."

  "I was awakened by the storm, and I saw that terrible apparition at the window. I think I screamed, but I could not fly. Oh, God! I could not fly. It came -- it seized me by the hair. I know no more. I know no more."

Uh "could not fly"?

Humans don't have wings. Flora should know this.

Honestly, it would make more sense if Flora said that she could not flee.

After Flora runs her hand across her neck several times, Marchdale notices that she has a wound.

After he points out the obvious, Flora's mom freaks out and brings a light closer to the bed. This causes them to all see the wound but it is now only two small puncture marks.

It was from these wounds the blood had come which was observable upon her night clothing.  

Especially since the authors are hell bent on insisting that Flora's wounds are the size of paper cuts.

Since Henry has the same amount of brain cells as Bella Swan, he asks Flora how she got the wounds.

Of course, this causes Flora to reply that she doesn't know but it felt like she "almost bled to death."

 "You cannot have done so, dear Flora, for there are not above half-a-dozen spots of blood to be seen at all."

When Varney bit her, blood gushed.

That does not cause pinprick stains.  

Mr. Marchdale leaned against the carved head of the bed for support, and he uttered a deep groan. All eyes were turned upon him,

Instead of focusing on the vampire victim, we should care about this guy being so anguished.

and Henry said, in a voice of the most anxious inquiry, --

"Have you something to say, Mr. Marchdale, which will throw some light upon this affair."

Instead of a period, there should be a question mark since Henry/Harry is asking Mr. Marchdale something.

Mr. Marchdale then insists that he has nothing to say and that Flora should get some sleep.

  "No sleep -- no sleep for me," again screamed Flora. "Dare I be alone to sleep?"

Anywho… Henry assures Flora that she won't be alone because he will watch over her.

She took his hand in both hers, and while the tears chased each other down her cheeks, she said, –

  "Promise me, Henry, by all your hopes of Heaven, you will not leave me."

  "I promise."

Henry and Flora are siblings.

....

................

Somewhere Cassandra Clare is all hot and bothered.

Anywho…

Flora laid down, sighed, and then closed her eyes.  

"She is weak, and will sleep long," said Mr. Marchdale.

Two things.

Flora being weak? No shit Sherlock.

As for Flora sleeping soundly? That depends. She could have a nightmare and wake up.

  "You sigh," said Henry.

Marchdale didn't sigh. Flora did.

"Some fearful thoughts, I feel certain, oppress your heart."

It can't oppress the heart of the mailman who lives at the end of the street.

  "Hush -- hush!" said Mr. Marchdale, as he pointed to Flora. "Hush! not here -- not here."

  "I understand," said Henry.

  "Let her sleep."

Can she though?

I don’t know about you, but if people were in my bedroom talking and yelling…

It would wake me up.

It turns out that Flora is in a deep slumber. Hard to believe, I know.

The idiots are quiet for a minutes before George says something.

He tells Mr. Marchdale to look at it.

He pointed to the portrait in the frame to which we have alluded,

Translation: Wink wink! The portrait that we subtly pointed out is significant.

and the moment Marchdale looked at it

He thought: "Man, that picture is nightmare fuel."

he sunk into a chair

Because as it turns out, it was a bean bag chair.

as he exclaimed, --  "Gracious Heaven, how like!"

Aside from being redundant...

It is also cringe-worthy.

"It is -- it is," said Henry. "Those eyes -- "

"Pierce right though me."

"I wonder if he is related to my mother in law."

"And see the contour of the countenance,

According to Merriam Webster, contour is a structure of something or is an outline of a irregular figure.

Usually, contour is used to describe architecture or a shape of a car.

Which means the right word to use would be silhouette not contour.

In conclusion:

and the strange shape of the mouth."

"Who knew that someone can have a hexagon shaped mouth?"

"Exact -- exact."

Why is he saying the same word twice?

 "That picture shall be moved from here.

The correct word is portrait.

A picture can be a representation of a building, a landscape, or a person.

While a portrait is a painting or a picture of a person, especially the head and the shoulders.

In conclusion?

The sight of it is at once sufficient to awaken all her former terrors in poor Flora's brain if she should chance to awaken and cast her eyes suddenly upon it."

Too verbose.

It would be better if he just said "The sight of it will frighten Flora if she wakes up and looks at the portrait."

"And is it so like him who came here?" said the mother.

Why does everyone in the story have the same amount of brain cells as Bella Swan?

In case you are wondering, Bella has four brain cells.

Of course Marchdale confirms that yes, it is the same person.

"I have not been in this house long enough to ask any of you whose portrait that may be?"

Wait a tick...

Marchdale is a friend of Flora's mother.

So he must have been to the house multiple times.

Which means that the first part of the sentence is absolute horseshit.

As for the second part?

It makes sense that Marchdale didn't see the portrait since it is in Flora's bedroom.

A man entering a lady's bedroom that isn't a doctor would have created a scandal.

"It is," said Henry, "the portrait of Sir Runnagate Bannerworth, an ancestor of ours, who first, by his vices, gave the great blow to the family prosperity."

"Sir Runnagate Bannerworth"?

Reginald, Reynard, and Rupert are actual names.

Runnagate is not.

A quick Google search reveals that runagate is a word meaning "runaway", "vagabond", or "fugitive".

So bravo authors.

You have the subtlety of Stephenie Meyer.

"Indeed. How long ago?"

  "About ninety years."

  "Ninety years. 'Tis a long while -- ninety years."

It is really annoying when characters repeat stuff that that the reader already knows.

Aside from being redundant...

It is also treats the reader like they are an idiot who need everything to be spelled out in 72 pt Times New Roman font.

"You muse upon it."

  "No, no. I do wish, and yet I dread -- "

  "What?"

"To say something to you all. But not here -- not here. We will hold a consultation on this matter to-morrow. Not now -- not now."

Part of this chapter was dedicated to talking about Flora and the vampire.

'Ello continuity error!

Anyway... Henry tells everyone else they can go to bed because he is going to watch over Flora.

Of course, he describes it keeping "my sacred promise".  Can anyone say melodramatic?

Henry also adds that "The daylight is coming quickly on."

"I will fetch you my powder-flask and bullets," said Mr. Marchdale; "and you can, if you please, reload the pistols. In about two hours more it will be broad daylight."

First, the daylight is quickly approaching.

But now it is going to appear in two hours.

Which is it authors?

This arrangement was adopted.

It was placed with a loving family.

Henry did reload the pistols, and placed them on a table by the side of the bed, ready for immediate action,

In other words...

You only reload a gun if you are intending to use it.

  and then, as Flora was sleeping soundly,

It is still pretty impressive that she is sleeping...

Considering the fact that people are talking and moving around.

all left the room but himself. Mrs. Bannerworth was the last to do so.

She would have remained,

Because mommy dearest was busy reading the newspaper.

but for the earnest solicitation of Henry,

At least the solicitation was sincere.

Because if it wasn't, it should be refused out of principle.

that she would endeavour to get some sleep to make up for her broken night's repose,

...

..........

Why can't the authors just say that Henry pleaded with his mother go to bed?

It is much more concise than this verbose sentence.

  and she was indeed so broken down by her alarm on Flora's account,

How is this surprising?

It would be alarming if Flora's mother acted annoyed that Flora survived.

that she had not power to resist,

Before, Flora's mom wanted to stay.

Now she can't wait to leave.

Because only losers care about consistency!

but with tears flowing from her eyes,

Um...

Do tears flow anywhere else?

she sought her own chamber.

How is that unusual? People usually have their own bedroom.

Unless they are sharing a room with someone.

...

Now I can't help but wonder if Flora's mother wanted to spend the night with Marchdale.

Think that couldn't happen? Plenty of bad romance novels have a scene where a man comforts a woman and it results in sex.

And now the calmness of the night

There was inclement weather.

Hell, it was described as being the storm of the century.

resumed its sway

At least it swayed.

We don't want it standing idly by.

in that evil-fated mansion;

Because any horror writer knows, a good story always sucks the suspense out!

and although no one really slept but Flora,

Because most people would be sleeping soundly after a monster entered their home and attacked someone!

all were still.

They were practicing the pose used by many Mary Sues: wait around until life showers them with happiness.

Busy thought kept every one else wakeful.

And in other news: people will eventually die and karma is a bitch.  

It was a mockery to lie down at all,

They all must have hated Flora.

Because they are "still."

and Henry, full of strange and painful feelings as he was,

If this was a Philippa Gregory novel, these emotions would be incestuous.

preferred his present position

Because angst makes him feel alive!

to the anxiety and apprehension

That the reader is supposed to be feeling but frankly doesn't give a damn.

on Flora's account

Rather than the account of Miss Smith, a spinster who is the local librarian.

which he knew he should feel if she were not within the sphere of his own observation,

...

Because two pistols are enough to stop a member of the Undead. Logic be damned!

and she slept as soundly

All thanks to Nyquil!

as some gentle infant tired of its playmates and its sports.

Because a vampire victim should be compared to a tired infant.

*Takes a deep breath *

Thankfully, this chapter finally ends.

[creepingsharia]

The Missing Link Showing Ilhan Omar Married Her Brother

“The facts describe perhaps the most extensive spree of illegal misconduct committed by a House member in American history.”

Tying up loose threads in the curious case

In four intensely reported investigative columns — here (August 13, 2018), here (October 23, 2018), here (October 30, 2018), and here (November 5, 2018), — David Steinberg has explored the evidence suggesting that Ilhan Omar entered into a sham marriage with her brother in 2009. This is his fifth. He titles it “Meet Leila Elmi: The Missing Link Showing Ilhan Omar Married Her Brother.” Drawing on his research, interviews, and social media evidence he makes the case that Omar has engaged in a variety of fraudulent activities and willful misrepresentations related to her marital arrangements.

...

Twelve-year-old Ilhan had no say on the manner in which she arrived in the United States.

However, U.S. Congresswoman Ilhan Abdullahi Omar (D-MN) is now under scrutiny for acts she took beginning in 2009 — not 1995. In 2009, Omar was a 26-year-old U.S. citizen. She had been a U.S. citizen for nearly nine years.

Additionally, the foreign national Omar apparently helped commit fraud was not fleeing hell in 2009, either. Ahmed Nur Said Elmi was a long-time citizen of the United Kingdom. He even possessed a high school diploma from the United States: Elmi attended a St. Paul, Minnesota high school for his senior year of 2002-2003, and graduated before returning to London.

We look to 1995 not to incriminate a kid, but to answer questions about what Omar did 14 years later as an adult U.S. citizen.

Please read the verified evidence below — and read it alongside the three years of verified evidence published by Scott Johnson, Preya Samsundar, and myself (our work is linked here). The answers to those questions about 2009 appear to give probable cause to investigate Omar for eight instances of perjury, immigration fraud, marriage fraud, up to eight years of state and federal tax fraud, two years of federal student loan fraud, and even bigamy.

To be clear: The facts describe perhaps the most extensive spree of illegal misconduct committed by a House member in American history.

———————-

The proceeding information was given to me by multiple sources within the Minneapolis Somali community. The verifiable evidence corroborating their information follows below:

In 1995, Ilhan entered the United States as a fraudulent member of the “Omar” family.

That is not her family. The Omar family is a second, unrelated family which was being granted asylum by the United States. The Omars allowed Ilhan, her genetic sister Sahra, and her genetic father Nur Said to use false names to apply for asylum as members of the Omar family.

Ilhan’s genetic family split up at this time. The above three received asylum in the United States, while Ilhan’s three other siblings — using their real names — managed to get asylum in the United Kingdom.

Ilhan Abdullahi Omar’s name, before applying for asylum, was Ilhan Nur Said Elmi.

Her father’s name before applying for asylum was Nur Said Elmi Mohamed. Her sister Sahra Noor’s name before applying for asylum was Sahra Nur Said Elmi. Her three siblings who were granted asylum by the United Kingdom are Leila Nur Said Elmi, Mohamed Nur Said Elmi, and Ahmed Nur Said Elmi.

Ilhan and Ahmed married in 2009, presumably to benefit in some way from a fraudulent marriage. They did not divorce until 2017.

———————-

Confirming some of the above information, as it might appear on their 1995 U.S. immigration papers, is not difficult. A basic background search shows that “Nur Omar Mohamed,” “Ilhan Abdullahi Omar,” and “Sahra Noor” all received SSNs in 1995 or 1996 in Virginia. Verified address records show adult members of the Omars living at three addresses in Arlington, Virginia at that time: 1223 South Thomas Street, 1226 South Thomas Street, and 1107 South Thomas Street.

The United Kingdom records of the relevant individuals are similarly easy to find. Try with a simple Ancestry.com account and similar online tools: There appears to be only one “Leila Nur Said Elmi,” only one “Mohamed Nur Said Elmi,” and only one “Ahmed Nur Said Elmi” in the UK.

The remaining evidence below verifies a sibling relationship between Ilhan and Ahmed.

————————

...

On August 10, 2017, Ilhan swore under penalty of perjury — literally, she signed a half-inch or so under “penalty of perjury” — that she’d had zero contact with Ahmed Nur Said Elmi after June 2011.

Further, Ilhan swore that she did not know where to find him, and that she did not know a single person who was likely to know his whereabouts. She did this to apply for a default divorce from Ahmed — a divorce where one spouse cannot be located and served.

Now, a tremendous amount of evidence — from this article and our prior articles — shows that Ilhan perhaps perjured herself eight times with her nine answers. Minnesota’s perjury statute allows for a sentence of up to five years — for each instance:

Yet this may be the least worrisome of her current legal exposures.

Consider the disturbingly inadequate evidence used to obtain FISA warrants on members of Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign. Consider that Democratic representatives have demanded that Attorney General William Barr release grand jury testimony — itself an illegal act.

Yet here we have:

Verifiable UK and U.S. marriage records

Verifiable address records

Time-stamped, traceable, archived online communications (Convictions and settlements based upon social media evidence are commonplace, Anthony Weiner being a notable example)

Background check confirmations of SSNs and birthdates

Archived court documents signed under penalty of perjury

Photos which can be examined to rule out digital manipulation

The 2019 Minnesota Campaign Finance and Public Disclosure Board investigation, which found Omar filed illegal joint tax returns with a man who was not her husband in at least 2014 and 2015

Three years’ of evidence published across many articles — none of which has been shown to be incorrect, or have even been challenged with contradictory evidence from Rep. Omar or any other source

Perjury evidence that stands on its own — regardless of whom she married:

Long after June 2011, she was clearly in contact with the only man in either the U.S. or the UK with the same name and birthdate as the man she married. She was clearly in contact with several people who were in contact with him.

Further, Preya Samsundar did contact him, published how she managed to contact him, and published his email admitting to being photographed with Omar in London in 2015. To be clear: Omar was legally married to an “Ahmed Nur Said Elmi” at the time she was photographed next to a man who admits his name is Ahmed Nur Said Elmi, and that he is in the photo.

Samsundar published all of this information on how to contact Ahmed Nur Said Elmi a few months before Omar swore to that nine-question court document.

Rep. Omar has refused all inquiries from her constituents, elected officials, and media outlets to provide any specific evidence contradicting even a single allegation suggested by three years of now-public information.

In fact, Omar has responded by making information less available:

In August 2016, after Scott Johnson and Preya Samsundar posted the allegations, Omar’s verified social media accounts were taken offline.

Ahmed Nur Said Elmi’s social media accounts were also taken offline.

When the accounts returned, a large amount of potentially incriminating evidence had verifiably been deleted.

I found and published at least ten additional “before and after” instances of evidence still being deleted in 2018.

Omar has released carefully worded, Clintonian statements that denigrate those seeking answers from her as racists. Yet she has repeatedly refused to answer questions or issue anything other than public relations statements.

I have a large amount of information that we have not published for reasons including the protection of sources.

Sources have expressed fear regarding published video and photo evidence confirming threats from Omar’s campaign team. These sources have shared other evidence of threats. I have contacted the federal authorities to share this and other unpublished information. Providing knowingly false information to the DOJ is a serious crime.

I believe Scott Johnson, Preya Samsundar, and me, with our three years of articles, columns and posts, have provided more than enough evidence to give law enforcement authorities probable cause to open an investigation. Now would be the chance for law enforcement, and especially for Rep. Ilhan Omar’s House colleagues, to make a sincere stand against corruption and for the uniform application of the law.

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These excerpts don’t due the vast amount of evidence justice. There is much more evidence, photographs, documents at the link below. Take the time to read it all and share it with your friends, neighbors and elected officials.

[mythicallore]

A Famous Case of Truly Frightening Entities

Hauntings truly run the spectrum of the weird. You have some that merely involve moving objects, others that entail roving apparitions of some type, and still other more malevolent case that have reports of physical violence and assault revolving about them. Then you have the truly frightening accounts that involve all of the above. One of the most terrifying hauntings in history seems to have settled down on one very unfortunate family in the 1970s, involving a group of specters with an inclination for violence, mayhem, and even rape, and which would go on to become one of the most ghastly incidents of paranormal activity on record.

The story of one of the most frightening and violent hauntings of all time starts in 1974, with a single mother by the name of Doris Bither, who lived in in Culver City, California, with her four children. The family had moved here from Santa Monica in order to try and start a new life after a string of abusive relationships that Doris had been in, and to try and escape her demon of alcoholism. It was a rough time of things, as Doris had barely enough to raise her four children, all born of different fathers, and they were a broken family living in dirt poor conditions, but things would soon get worse still, when something decidedly dark and paranormal came calling.

It started rather creepily enough, with an elderly woman who came over one day shortly after they had moved in to tell Doris out of the blue that she had once lived in the home and that it was evil, before wandering off to never be seen again. So far, so eerie, but it would prove to be almost prophetic. Not long after this, there would be instances of classic poltergeist activity, such as lights turning on and off, objects moving on their own, and anomalous noises, all of which were witnessed by all of the family members. Then things graduated to the more frightening when apparitions would start appearing.

At first it was just glimpses, a shadow figure moving across the living room here, a movement in the periphery of the vision there, but it got steadily more intense, and even neighbors began seeing these things around the house. The figures that were seen started to take shape, appearing as fog-like humanoid shapes that would move about or merely sit in the corner and simply watch. In an interview with Ghost Theory, Doris’s middle son, Brian Harris, would describe them thus:

It was never clear. When they would make themselves known, it was always like a fog. Like a human…but not quite. It was like a sculpture. Like a chiseled body. Not a full figure, but at times we could see some of it. At times, it would be annoying. We would be watching television and these things would walk by. Like nothing. We were so used to the poltergeist, that we just got to a point were we wouldn’t even care.

It became increasingly clear that there were more than one of the entities as well, either 3 or 4 of them, depending on who you ask, although Harris has said that there were 4. This spooky paranormal activity, although at first scary but mostly harmless, would not stay that way for long, soon becoming increasingly terrifying. Not content to just mill about and cause mischief, the entities began to lash out at the family, pushing, shoving, hitting, and even clawing or biting them, and this would happen at all hours, even in the middle of the daytime. Harris would say:

We all experienced some form of attack. There was the pushing, biting and scratching being done to us. There were about 4 entities in the home, and they made themselves known by appearing all the time….I think it took a lot of energy for them to do that. It was as if they [the four entities] showed themselves whenever they felt like.

Although he said there were four of the specters, Doris herself would later claim that there were only three, but the true number was- too many. Even more terrifying still was that the entities began to actively target Doris the most vehemently, and it went from simple pushes, scratches and bites to full on assault, with the ghosts even allegedly holding her down and raping her with abandon. This would often happen in the next room while the terrified children listened to the bangs, thuds, and their mother’s desperate screaming as they cowered in the shadows, but it also sometimes happened right in front of their eyes, and Harris has described these spectral attacks thus:

The whole rape thing was real. My room was right next door to my mother’s. I would hear the attacks happening. Things being thrown, her screaming. Then she would come out of the bedroom and have all these bruises. On her legs, her inner thighs. There were times were we would see it happen in front of us. It was like if a man was standing in front of my mother and would start to beat her. Imagine a woman being beaten. You could see her being picked up and thrown around. Sounds, slaps…but there was no one there to actually do it. We all felt it too. pulling, biting and scratching…we were all attacked.

These viscious attacks and sexual assaults went on unabated, with the apparitions appearing without warning practically every day and night, and it got to the point where the family was desperate for anyone to help them. The biggest of the entities even gained a creepy nickname for himself, “Mr. Whose-it.” Doris took it upon herself to approach paranormal investigators and parapsychologists Kerry Gaynor and Dr. Barry Taff, who were intrigued by her harrowing tale to say the least, and went about arranging a full investigation into the claims. They would not be disappointed.

The team moved in for their investigation on August 22, 1974, thinking at first that there would not be much to this all other than a seriously disturbed young woman. The first thing they did was take a look at the myriad bruises, scratches, and scars that she had all over her body, especially along her inner thighs, allegedly inflicted by the entities and which proved to be far more savage and severe than they had expected. She gave them additional information on the attacks by saying that there were 3 of them (despite her son’s claims that there were 4), and that the two smaller ones would hold her down while the bigger one raped her.

Intrigued, but not yet sold, the investigators set up their equipment in an effort to gather any evidence at all of a haunting. When this was done, they had Doris go into one of the rooms where the most activity had been occurring and told her to start yelling and cursing at the unseen entities, trying to draw them out. Almost immediately there was intense orb activity captured on the equipment, with spots of light flitting all over the place like angry bees. After this Doris was seen to be enveloped by a greenish mist, followed by the materialization of what appeared to be the upper torso of a man, which hovered there in the mist and was apparently so terrifying that one of the investigators fainted. This torso could not be captured on the equipment, but there is a photograph of Doris with a strange arc of light appearing over her.

This sort of intense paranormal activity would could continue virtually unabated for the next several months of the investigation, including apparitions, mysterious lights, temperature drops, horrific mystery odors, and moving objects. It was even noticed that the invastigators’ presence actually seemed to anger and irritate the entities, and it was also found that playing music by the metal group Black Sabbath also seemed to cause an uptick in activity, making it all stronger, but then it suddenly started winding down and stopping altogether for no discernible reason.

One of the photos taken during the investigation

In later years, Doris would move her and her family to other places on several occasions, but according to her each time the entities would follow her wherever she went, although somewhat weaker than they had been. She would even claim at one point that she had been impregnated by one of the spirits. Although her case had become quite well-known at the time, Doris herself would drop off the radar for years before finally succumbing to cardiac arrest in 1995, leaving us no further along as to what happened to her than when these supernatural forces first targeted her.

What exactly happened to this poor woman and her family? What sort of spirits or entities targeted them and why? That would depend a lot on who you ask, but according to Taff himself, it has nothing at all to do with ghosts or spirits as we imagine them. Taff is convinced that the phenomena were caused by the subconscious human mind lashing out to affect the world around it though psychokinesis, the ability to move objects with the mind. In his theory, this is all the result of various factors coming together to cause the mind of a victim to reach out to wreak havoc on the outside world, most often without their awareness that they are even doing so. So insistent is he that this is the case, and that such hauntings are caused by the projections of living beings rather than demons or the ghosts of the dead, that he has expressed disdain for these “paranormal” ideas, saying:

I don’t, for one second, believe this is the work of dead people throwing living people around. As there are no academic credentials required for anyone to go out and investigate the paranormal. Every new age groupie is out there looking for demons, emulating the garbage they’ve seen on cable TV paranormal shows. To fully comprehend the possibility that a living person’s subconscious mind can involuntarily generate such power as to manifest luminous anomalies, apparitions, and macroscopic psychokinetic events, is for me, far more compelling than if a discarnate intelligence was responsible.

The evidence and collected data suggests these effects are the result of what’s called Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK) There’s two types of psychokinesis (moving physical objects around without physical means). There’s microscopic, which works on very small scales, things like affecting random number generators, random event generators, and moving subatomic particles around. It’s usually electrostatic-based, fatigue in the individual is shown, as it’s done on a conscious level. And then there’s macroscopic, what we call ‘poltergeist,’ and that’s a whole different ball of wax. We’re talking about the ability of moving very massive objects, hundreds of pounds easily. It’s done on a subconscious level, as there is no fatigue seen in the person at the core of it. Like the microscopic type, it’s believed that the phenomena are generated by a living human agency.

Taff has used this explanation to explain a wide range of what are traditionally considered to be “paranormal phenomena,” which he has compiled into a book called Aliens Above, Ghosts Below: Explorations of the Unknown, which takes the approach of trying to explain all of these disparate phenomena with possible real world rational solutions. Others disagree, and say that this was some sort of demonic presence, a trio of ghosts up to no good, or just the delusions of a fractured mind. It has never been solved either way. Whatever the case is remains to be seen, but in the meantime the Doris Bithers story has gone on to become one of the most frightening and controversial accounts of a haunting on record. So famous and noteworthy is this mysterious case that it was made into a 1983 Hollywood film based on these events called The Entity, starring Barbara Hershey and directed by Sidney J. Furie, and which is loosely based on the real events. What was it that terrorized this family so violently? We may never know for sure.