#uncanny: post mortem

[helmstone]

Uncanny: Post Mortem — new visualised podcast

Uncanny: Post Mortem — new visualised podcast

The BBC has announced Uncanny: Post Mortem, the first visualised podcast for Radio 4’s hugely popular paranormal ‘Uncanny’ strand which last year became a hit BBC Two television series. Bringing together famous fans from across the sceptic/believer divide, new visualised podcast Uncanny: Post Mortem, presented by Danny Robins, will launch on Friday 31 January on BBC Two and iPlayer. The…

[mmmmalo]

Rose tells us that Jaspers was fitted with a tiny suit after being taxidermied post-mortem, but we later see Jaspers wearing the suit when telling Rose his Secret? Probably just a continuity error, but the notion that Jaspers was already dead in his living moments and the Lalondes were moving his cat corpse around like flashstep puppeteers is nonetheless pretty funny. Would certainly set the stage for Jade playing with Grandpa's corpse... but I guess on the level of pure affect, the breach of continuity just creates the uncanny sense that a corpse is moving, even if we can recognize that perception as erroneous.

[positivelybeastly]

AO3 Update

So, while I was on hiatus, I was, in fact, still doing some writing here and there - for those of you not aware, I post a fair amount of them over on ArchiveofOurOwn, or AO3. Given that they are all, invariably, Beast centric, I figured I should probably share them here and in the tags.

Don't worry, putting this all under a read more, so that those who are primarily interested in RP stuff don't have to deal with a long post.

In Another Life, set between X-Force vol. 6 #50 and the incoming X-Men vol. 7 #1. A post-mortem on Hank and Abigail Brand's relationship, featuring Simon, because he can't help but get involved.

Audition, set some time during classic Avengers (you'll get issue numbers from my cold, dead hands). Hank pulls on Simon's pigtails while Simon tries very hard to get a part in a French erotica.

Bugs Bunny, set after Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28-30. Hank and Simon talk about their relationship, and someone decides to ask the real questions about a certain kiss years ago.

The House That Arkon IV Built, a rewrite of House of M issue #1, and what I think Wanda thinks Hank and Simon's true desires are. A work in progress, but chapters 2 (During) and 3 (After) are in the pipeline.

And plenty of other works, including a new chapter of The Irredeemable Beast, my Dark Beast origin piece, etc, etc.

For the, like, one other Wonderbeaster who hasn't already read these fics, or the other ones on my page, I hope you enjoy!

[colossal-niamh]

A long vent on MJF's world title run shaped like an essay

There's been a consistent debate about the quality of MJF's title run post mortem and I think I fully stand on the side that it was terrible. Possibly even the worst world title run AEW's had yet (aside from CM Punk's nonexistent 2nd run). Overly lengthy, rarely defended the belt on tv (a total of 5 times in 406 days), diminishing returns on title matches (the Double or Nothing and Full Gear matches are especially bad) and I grew more cold on him as he turned more and more face.

In retrospect I fully believe he should have dropped the belt at All In. obviously creative didn't have the booking foresight to plan around Adam Cole's ankle exploding, but I don't think we needed another 4 months of MJF title run. They should have started the big betrayal and new heel faction at the biggest show the company's ever run and not when both sides of the big feud are too bruised and beaten to work an angle. but that's more fantasy booking than proper analysis.

The Length of MJF's run felt excessive and unnecessary considering the lack of anything substantial for several stretches on TV. A lot of the builds for his title defenses were him being challenged by someone and then MJF sets up a bunch of stipulations to get that match like a gauntlet his opponent would run through. This led to some solid TV matches like Bryan vs Rush, but left the show devoid of MJF himself outside of being essentially a talking head. AEW prior had made sure the world champ was on the card and the belt was a hotly contested prize. Without those regular matches on TV it felt the world champion was distant from the product and was what the world title scene had avoided up to that point, avoidable.

The actual matches MJF did have were inconsistent in quality and in particular his pay per view matches steadily got worse as his run went on. I will say up front I like the ironman match with Bryan and the match with Tanahashi is the only title defense I haven't seen, so maybe that one might be some hidden gem I missed. As for the others, they either range from alright like the Mox and Samoa Joe matches where he won and lost the titles respectively, to legitimately the worst PPV world title match AEW's had in the 4 pillars 4-way. A match where 4 guys nowhere near skilled or experienced enough to put on a quality world title match, which also floundered due to the build up being MJF failing to bounce off of 3 guys with sub par promo skills (side note, Sammy Guevara is the worst promo in the company, bar none). I think the main factor for this is a borrowed observation from Joseph Montecillo's review* of the Jay White match from Full Gear

"This match with Jay White is a strange mix of good and interesting ideas shaped into the entirely wrong fashion. It’s an unwieldy uncanny valley kind of creation–all the elements of “good” wrestling are there but in the wrong order, mutated and warped into an ugly whole. Everything about it feels discordant, unpleasant to behold.

MJF knows all the words, but not the music."

MJF knows what a good match looks like, but doesn't know how to pace or structure one. he's like a artist with some cool OCs and a story in his head, but he doesn't get the mechanics of panel flow and puts too many speech bubbles in the panels.

I found his heel work as champion standard practice for him but good, however as he pivoted to being a face I was fond at first but progressively soured on him. He's an excellent chicken shit heel and capable of some absolute bastard behavior, in fact he's too good. Face MJF comes off as disingenuous mainly for two reason. Number one his entire AEW run was defined by how heinous and untrustworthy he was, literally in the same run he turned face he hospitalized William Regal and shoot threw a drink at a kid on live PPV. Number two is that once he was portrayed as a face, he kept doing shit the exact same as when he was a heel, but now with a cheep city pop and a "I'm your sucmbag!" Once he had a friend AEW portrayed him as a loveable scamp for stuff commentary would curse him out for over half a year ago. He kept the sleezy prick routine and the body shaming and the only real noticeable change is his name calling somehow got worse. The big example of how face MJF doesn't work is the Jay White feud. Lizzy Flanagan at The Sportster* makes the point I'd like to make exactly.

"MJF’s go-to tactic to being a babyface has been garnering sympathy, but his sob story about being bullied as a well-off middle-class child in Long Island has been repeated three or four times now. He then resorts to humor, but the best he can come up with is calling Jay White tofu. Then, he tries some crowd work. This usually works fairly well, as the AEW crowd wants to see MJF succeed, but the promos can’t help but come across as cheesy and cliché. You can put lipstick on a pig. It’s still a pig. You can put a t-shirt and a smile on MJF. MJF is still a heel."

His face work feels fake and undercooked, so when put in a program with a fully realized and, frankly, better character like Jay White, Face MJF falls flat. The guy who's supposed to be the man of the people who recently turned over a new leaf is the same guy that flipped of a child at a public autograph event and mocked Darby Allen's dead uncle. The only thing that's changed as a character is now he has crocodile tears.

MJF's run as world champion was an abject failure. A spotlight that exposed the weakest parts of one of AEW's most popular performers during a creatively frustrating time in the company's short history. An example of many flaws in the modern wrestling landscape and the creative short comings of the man himself. As I write this I assume once Max recovers he'll take up the vengeful babyface role, chasing Cole and his faction. Do I hope it works? sure, but to I expect it to work? No, the experiment failed and it's inevitable that MJF will turn heel again. He has nothing without the bitter chicken shit heel persona, as a face he's a dog with no teeth. All bark, no bite.

*(Links to articles referenced in the replies below)

[sepublic]

Growing up, Viracious really loved his sister and cared for her; But he was also a bit delusional in his bias, being their father's blatant favorite, but essentially dismissing the idea that their father disliked/hated his sister. Whenever his sister would find space to be alone after their father was harsh to her, Viracious would go out of his way to comfort his sister, and while she always appreciated this, there was that disconnect from him insisting despite it all that their father was fine; There was nothing to worry about, he was just expressing tough love!

That delusion culminated during the funerary necromancy, in which Viracious reanimated their father's body. Like many funerary necromancers, Viracious had his father repeat all of the mannerisms he had in life; But the problem with such a ritual is that by the end of the day, it doesn't truly know a person. Viracious was working off of HIS perception of their father.

So there was a moment where Viracious had their father bow to his sister, to show respect; It was his genuinely well-meaning way of reassuring his sister, giving her acknowledgement, showing her what Viracious was certain had always been there. And while outwardly, his sister smiled, she felt sick to her stomach deep down.

That moment should've comforted her, but instead it just reiterated everything she suspected; That her brother was wrong about their father, for whom it felt so uncanny to see act in a way so uncharacteristic. Seeing it happen here made Viracious' sister realize how it never would've happened in life.

She was aghast to imagine her own body being used to misrepresent her, post-mortem. She wondered how her father would've had her reanimated, what instructions he would've given to the necromancer, if it were Viracious himself; Would Viracious be true to her? Or would he just blindly be a vessel for their father's control over her, what he wanted her to be?

It was only after the funeral that she began to make up her mind, her struggle and frustration with the aristocratic traditions she'd grown up with, her mixed feelings about their culture. Viracious' sister would end up being among those who would decide not to have a funerary necromancer, and specify that in their will. But even then, if one's family didn't care, that aspect of the will could still be suppressed, and they could pull strings to have it so.

It was like the final straw that pushed Viracious' sister to pursue her own life, and different schools of thought. That funeral made her see Viracious in another light; One forced to consider how he might ultimately choose their father over her, and the will he'd tried to impose in life. Maybe she was afraid Viracious would become their father to her, too. Viracious, of course, never understood it; But even when she did try to explain, he would get defensive. And his sister never felt comfortable bringing up the funeral incident, knowing just how much it'd meant to him; He'd never listen if that was brought up.

Seeing Viracious become a warlord in the name of their family, hurting innocents, before turning his gaze to the entire Monster Realm upon becoming a Warlock, only furthered that lack of safe feeling; He had no qualms imposing his will on others, and resorting to violence to 'preserve' tradition. If he was forced to choose, Viracious would probably choose 'tradition' over his sister, because to him 'tradition' was also his father.

This reminded her of their childhood, and how Viracious vowed to his crying sister that of course he would look after her, he's her brother and that'll never change! It was a memory once comforting that pained her now, seeing the rift that had begun to grow since their father’s death. She’d have thought, even hoped their relationship would get better after that, without a parent between them who should’ve been helping both kids. Instead, it seemed their father was the only thing tethering his daughter to this place out of fear, and without him she drifted off for her own health; Leaving behind a brother who didn’t follow, but steadfastly remained to guard the grave and felt abandoned by his sister for it.

It's ironic then: The same moment that emboldened and affirmed Viracious' convictions, did the opposite for his sister, who was made to question everything she believed in growing up. One could say it DID affirm her, but in an opposing direction entirely. The same situation, but from different angles, different places, with the same man who felt different feelings towards either of his children, between them. In that sense, the funerary necromancy did allow their father to live on after death; Guiding Viracious, while haunting his daughter. Still driving his children apart.

But then, maybe it was only that moment, where Viracious lied about his father to his sister during the funeral, that really did it; It was inevitable, but maybe that last insistent delusion by Viracious was what finally pushed his sister away. It was not just the reminder their father didn’t love one, it was a reminder of how much Viracious would deny and belittle his sister’s truth to prioritize his father’s image over his sister’s needs.

[cookie2351]

SPY ASTRAY - Platformer Post Mortem Part 2 and Gameplay

Spy Astray has been further developed but still omits some features that I didn’t get to. I was unable to finish all the animations for the character. The jump animation never looked right and would have absorbed too much time, so a simplistic cloud was added to the character design to signify what would normally be the jump animation.

Reflecting back on it though I enjoyed the time I spent trying to animate a character. Having never done it before it took a while to get used to the software and how body parts moved and avoiding the uncanny alley sort of vibe.

The head knocking of the character has been improved further. Other aspects have been added as well such as enemy vision. When the player is within a certain range of an enemy their speed will increase, giving less time to dodge if you're in its deadly path. They all speed up together as they are robots and therefore linked.

GAMEPLAY

(placeholder jump animation)

[inthefallofasparrow]

True Detective: Night Country

So, whether you liked it or not, True Detective season 4 managed to tie up loose ends in the finale reasonably well. Most of what was left unanswered was either implied to be irrelevant (where did Tagaq go); something to be inferred without direct explanation (what caused the men's specific injuries); a plot hole, bad science or a farfetched story beat (how did Lund survive frozen in the ice for that long); or something that could be explained by supernaturalism or mental illness and is basically just there to feed into the uncanny eeriness of Ennis and the show in general (the spiral, the visions etc). But there is one glaring example of a question left deliberately unanswered (as stated by Issa López herself). Why was the tongue there?

And that tongue really is the lynch pin of the entire storyline. The only reason to connect the missing scientists to Annie K's case was the tongue. The only reason Navarro got involved was the tongue. The only reason they even realised Tsalal was a crime scene straightaway was the tongue. Without the tongue, there would've been zero leads, Clark would've stayed missing presumed dead, and the case would've gone cold. And yet, by the end, nothing they discover explains why the tongue was there at all. Now, you can read the tongue as simply the symbolic catalyst that enables Annie's story to finally be told. You can infer that it ended up there supernaturally, placed by Annie's ghost or the ubiquitous 'she', as a spur towards her revenge. But that isn't really a satisfactory explanation for such a crucial tangible element. So, theorizing.

Clark says they didn't cut out the tongue and assuming his version of events and motives was truthful, they had no reason to.

Beatrice says they didn't leave it there and had no reason to lie about it, or any explanation as to how they could've got it anyway.

The tongue was frozen to preserve it for six years, implying it was deliberately taken and kept, not just cut out and dropped.

There was at least two days between the time the scientist's left and the time the tongue was discovered, meaning it could've been left there at any time between then (or potentially even before).

The answer seems to lie with Hank Prior given he's the only one we know of who had access to Annie's body before it was found where he moved it to. He might have cut it out to obscure the motive for her death. He was obviously a jerk, but he didn't seem bloodthirsty or deranged enough to have kept it as a trophy. More likely he kept it as evidence to potentially frame someone in the future.

However, it would be against Hank's interests (in burying the case for the Silver Sky mine and his involvement) to leave it at Tsalal and there was no suggestion he was surprised or confused that it was there, implying he's not the one who's been holding onto it.

Ted and Kate seem to be the only characters Hank conspired with and neither of them seem likely candidates.

Alternatively potentially someone else found Annie's body between Hank dumping it and Navarro finding it, and cut out the tongue themselves to hold onto for unknown reasons. Note, there was a suggestion that the body had been kicked post-mortem.

Wild Speculation: On the assumption that Ace (Blair's abusive partner) was one of the miners Annie had been butting heads with, if he found her body after Hank dumped it, he seemed sadistic enough to have kicked her and taken the tongue. This may have lead Blair to originally assume Ace had killed Annie, if she found where he kept it. So, while Beatrice denies knowledge of the tongue, Blair could've left it at Tsalal herself.

There's also a chance someone like Rose for instance, witnessed Beatrice's group driving the scientists out onto the ice and went to Tsalal afterward to leave the tongue, so police would link the cases. While Rose says that Travis's ghost led her to the scientist's bodies, that doesn't mean she didn't already know they were out there. But that again doesn't explain how she ended up with the tongue.

I suspect none of these are the right question. The right question is: Is there an actual in-world explanation to this? And I suspect the answer is 'no', which makes all of this incidental.

[qcomicsy]

The Office but it's the Batfamily.

Bernard (To the camera): I think Bruce hates me.

---

Bruce (to the camera): I am very glad Tim, found himself dating someone. I don't think there's someone who would ever be enough to any of my children.

Bruce: But he is happy. So I am happy as well.

---

Bernard, invited over to dinner: That's. . . Um, A very nice mansion you have here sir. Really big. Big enough to hide an secret passage to clones but–

Tim, gesturing to him to shut the fuck up: HAHAHAHA ISN'T HE FUNNY?! (whispering) ᴮᵉʳⁿᵃʳᵈ ᴵ ˢʷᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒᵈ.

Bernard: WhichI'mnotimplyingyoudoanyway. But– IT'S NICE. Really nice. Thanks for uh inviting. . . Me.

Bruce, glaring: Hn.

---

Bruce (to the camera): Dick told me to make a "chit-chat". Be sure that our guest felt welcomed.

---

Bruce (to Bernard): Did you gave it a thought about your internship yet? When I started medical school I had a great interest on how Gotham's Hospital deals with post mortem patients.

Bernard:

---

Bruce (to the camera): I tried to find a common ground to make conversation. We both had similar majors, even though I've drop out

Bruce: I'm glad it was enough for a good starter.

---

Bernard (to the camera horrified): He wants me dead.

---

Dick (to the camera): HOW WOULD I KNOW HE WOULD PULL UP THE SERIAL KILLER TALK??–

---

Steph (to the camera): There's something really uncanny in seen it happen to another person.

Steph: And also really fucking funny too.

---

Kory (to the camera): The first time I got there I'm pretty sure was the time he made a contingency plan for me.

Kory: Which is cute. He thinking it would work but– Yeah.

---

Barbara (to the camera): Me and Dick? Oh he stopped talking to me for several weeks.

Barbara: When he did, he said "You are making a mistake".

Barbara:

Barbara: Don't you hate when he is right?

---

Kon (to the camera): I wasn't aloud to enter the house– I when I dated Cass, so–

Kon: Not that stopped me. But it still hurts.

---

Cass (to the camera), shrugging: I liked his piercings.

---

Bernard: . . . I didn't– Yet. No sir. I'm just, huh. . . Going with the flow?

Bruce: That's unfortunate. It's really important to always have a plan.

Bernard (gulps): You think?

Bruce: Yes. You never know what might happens next.

---

Damian (to the camera): It was the best dinner I've ever attended in this house.

---

Tim (to the camera): *Loud sight* I don't know what I was expecting.

---

Jason (to the camera): Are we really just going to pass on how his boyfriend looks like a knock off Scooby-doo member?

Jason: Like he is rocking a StarStruck haircut– And we just?– Okay.

---

Dick (to the camera): I mean it's not like Bruce is doing on purpose right?

---

Bruce, grinning to the camera: Hn.

---

Duke (to the camera): Oh he's absolutely doing on purpose.

[markgatissappreciationsociety]

The Next Watchalong ... This Saturday

The next MGAS watchalong is once again a listen-along. We're gathering this coming Saturday, February 25, to listen to "Hunting Ghosts with Gatiss and Coles", the audio show that aired in December (the month of ghosts with Gatiss).

We'll also listen to another podcast... which one should it be?

[campyvillain]

WOAAH OK SO an interesting link my friend brought up is that the “post mortem” distorted images of twf characters (most notably susan and jack) look REALLY like forensic mock-ups of unidentifiable bodies. whenever mock-up sketches or renders of john/jane does are done, the artist tends to “exaggerate” the most notable features (ex face structure, eyes, smile) so that the image of the victim stays in the minds of the people who see them. this is why a lot of images of these unidentifiable people will often look really uncanny and unsettling - it’s not meant to be close to life, it’s meant to stick in your mind. so could it be that the more uncanny images of the deceased in the walten files aren’t how they literally looked moreso it’s how they’re designed to look so that sophie will remember them? just a thought

[notesonphotography]

Picked up a signed copy of this at Dashwood - A simple and brilliant piece of work by Pieter Hugo encapsulating themes of surveillance, voyeurism, war, time, space....somewhere on the borders of our Troposphere.

I guess when one has to shoot they have to shoot. No matter when, where or how. 

There has been plenty written about images of death and sleep - If read out of context, some of the portraits, (if we can call them that) mouth agape, rendered in uncanny low contrast infrared light, (almost pictorialist in its tones) could be mistaken for post mortem photographs. The others, with their neck braces, eyes covered with sleeping masks, look as if they are frozen in a cryogenic sleep chamber. They are in a steel tube, 40,000 feet in the air after all. 

I have been binging on the original Twilight Zone series in the last month or so. Here, as Serling would pronounce from his corner, we have definitely crossed into that “middle ground between light and shadow”.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘Repeating History’ Chapter 2: In Another Life

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

.

.

1894

Arriving at Scotland Yard, Sherlock Holmes was met with Detective Inspector Lestrade. The autopsy reports told him what he already knew, though he knew much more than what this so-called pathologist knew. He had a tendency to miss some things, he begrudgingly admitted, but it was usually a minor a detail. “Lestrade, I’d like to request a change of pathologist.”

“Sherlock, we can’t just fire the bloke,” Lestrade pointed out. “So, his reports are a bit lackluster, t—“ The consulting detective was already walking away.

Before he exited through the doors, Sherlock put in his request. “For all future cases in which I am involved, autopsies will be done by Miss Molly Hooper at St. Bartholomew’s, no exceptions.”

“But—“

“No. Exceptions.” Sherlock refused to budge on this request. “Oh, and by the way, your usual pathologist missed a key feature that I noticed in the photographs. Heed my request, and I will tell you what that feature is.” Making his ever-so-dramatic exit, Sherlock left behind a dumbfounded Lestrade who had no choice but to have Miss Hooper on call.

He roamed the streets of London—a favourite pastime of his—and took in the brisk air that he welcomed wholeheartedly. One could argue that he shouldn’t be out whilst a murderer runs rampant, but Sherlock had a feeling he’d be the last person in danger. As he turned a corner, Sherlock ran right into the person he had anticipated seeing again. “Miss Hooper! I am sorry, I did not see you.”

With a laugh, she replied, “We keep meeting each other like this! I’m afraid that chaos surrounds the two of us, no matter where we go.”

“What are you doing out so late? It isn’t safe for you with a murderer running around.” Sherlock didn’t wait for her to respond before he continued talking. “I would have peace of mind if you’d allow me to walk you home.”

Molly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and smiled kindly. “I only live the next street over; it’s just me and my father, but he’s very ill, you see, and…I’ve no idea why I’m telling you all of this.” Her cheeks were flushed in the loveliest way. She felt like a fool until she saw the soft smile on his lips, and the patience in his eyes. His reputation certainly didn’t coincide with the man she saw in front of her. When she had mentioned his name to the other nurses, particularly her friend, Meena, they all had the worst stories about the man. They called him insufferable, strange, and bad-mannered, among other things. “I would feel better if you were to walk with me, though.”

“A wise choice, Miss Hooper; there is safety in numbers.” God, he couldn’t seem to stop admiring her attributes that shown plainly on her face; soulful brown eyes, an inviting upturned nose that he may or may not have imagined nuzzling his own nose against. He could hear his brother’s voice in his head telling him that sentiment was nothing but a chemical defect, and though he usually lived by that phrase, Sherlock couldn’t remember why whilst he was in Miss Hooper’s presence. Oh, he thought, what have I gotten myself into?

.

.          

               Sitting in his armchair, the crackling fire giving off the most pleasing orange glow, Sherlock pulled his pipe from his mouth, thinking over the case. He had to figure out when and where the murderer may strike next. Granted, when the first nurse was found dead, nobody thought this would turn out to be a string of murders from when Jack the Ripper haunted their streets, but Sherlock had known better. The feature of interest was a prominent, but small carving behind the victim’s ear. Three small H’s were cut into the flesh post-mortem. This was a calling card if ever he saw one.

               His eyes shifted to the door that was now opening. Mrs. Hudson peered inside, smiling when she saw him. “The detective inspector is here to see you.” He motioned for her to send him in, and stood to greet him.

               “Lestrade!” he exclaimed. “Have you done as I asked?”

               “Yes, and she did find something that wasn’t in the report, but—“

               “And what did she find?” Sherlock asked.

               “Three H’s carved below the ear, but Sherlock—“

               “I knew she was observant enough to find the key feature,” he smiled, his head now filled with thoughts of Molly Hooper.

               Lestrade was becoming impatient, and was tired of being interrupted. “Sherlock!” he snapped. “There’s been another murder; another nurse has been attacked.”      

               Arriving at the crime scene, Sherlock realised that they were only a couple of streets over from where Molly resided. The victim’s jet black hair was matted to her face from sweat and blood. She, too, had been cut open, her lungs missing. “Do we know which hospital she works at?”

               “St. Bartholomew’s,” replied Lestrade. “Her name’s Meena Bennett. I had met with her a couple of times. I think she’s friends with the pathologist you requested.” This answer is what Sherlock had been afraid of. He definitely did not want Molly to have to autopsy her friend’s body. Crouching on the ground, he checked behind her ear for the calling card. Lo-and-behold, it was there just as it was on the previous two nurses. “You don’t still want Miss Hooper to do this autopsy, do you?”

               “No,” Sherlock replied. “I will have a word with Stamford to see if he has another pathologist qualified enough for the job.”

               When he arrived at the morgue in St. Bartholomew’s two hours later, however, Sherlock found a grief-stricken Molly in the room, preparing for an autopsy. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her skin blotchy from crying. “What are you doing here? Did they not get somebody else to do the autopsy?” He felt angry that she had been put in this position.

               “They were going to,” she told him, her voice thick with emotion. “But I insisted.” Molly took no time in pushing aside her emotions, adopting a calculated tone of voice as she began the autopsy. She was a most resilient woman, determined to do right by her best friend. Unlike the pathologist Lestrade once worked with, she didn’t seem to mind having him there at all.

.

.

2016

               Dinner would have been going marvelously had his mother not continued to shoot rapid fire questions at him and Molly. She asked them things that Molly surely had answered long before they were together, but it seemed his mum wanted the answers straight from him tonight. It was, he supposed, the least he could do after everything.

               “Molly,” Mr. Holmes spoke quietly to her as his wife chatted on about a variety of things to their sons. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

               Scooting her chair closer toward Sherlock’s father, she leaned in, and said softly, “It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest. Is it obvious?”

               “Very,” he replied, patting her hand with his own. “A bit of advice in dealing with my wife—as much as I love her—don’t be afraid to deflect any questions you don’t feel comfortable answering. Changing the subject sometimes works as well.”

               “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Molly smiled at him. It was beginning to feel a little too warm in the restaurant for her liking, and she began to tune out the conversation, mixing her salad languidly with her fork. Thoughts continued to swirl around, muddling her mind. Seriously, why was it so damn hot in here? Molly’s throat suddenly ran dry, and she had no choice but to gulp down her water.

               “Molly, dear, is everything alright?” Mrs. Holmes looked at her in concern as if she were her own daughter. Mr. Holmes gave her a sympathetic look as if he knew how she must be feeling. At first glance, Mycroft looked indifferent, but he cared for Molly like a sister, his concern only showing in his eyes.

               “Molly.” Sherlock’s voice cut through the commotion as he held her hand in his. “What do you need?”

               “Air,” she managed to croak out, sliding her hand out of his, and heading towards the exit. Sherlock replayed their earlier conversation in the morgue, already knowing what was inevitably going to happen next.

               “I may need to take Molly home,” he told his family. “Thank you for dinner, Mycroft.” He then looked over at his parents. “Sorry that Molly and I have to cut this short, but—“

               “Don’t worry about it, Sherlock, we understand,” his mother assured him. “The poor girl was having a panic attack; give her my apology if my being over-excited caused it.”

               “I’m sure it wasn’t you, mummy, but I’ll pass it on, regardless.” Sherlock gave a small reassuring smile, and grabbed the purse that Molly left behind.

.

.

               With her head in her hands, Molly sat on the steps outside trying to calm down.  She felt awful for having to run out on everyone like that, but her fears and anxiety rose much too quickly. Without looking over, she knew Sherlock had just sat down beside her, as the smell of cloves and wood smoke wafted in the air. With a brave face, she looked up at his worried face, but was unable to hold back the sob that cut through her throat. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

               He wrapped her in his arms, hugging her close to him. “It’s okay, Molly. I understand.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry for jumping the gun, and rushing us through the motions of—well, whatever this is.”

               Molly kept her voice level, telling him what she needed to say earlier. She had wanted to make him happy tonight; to see that bright smile of his that made him look ten years younger. It had all been worth it even if tonight didn’t end well. “We’ll still work on the case together, but outside of that, I just need some space.”

               “I know.” It was a simple reply, but it let her know that he had already seen this coming. “May I at least share a cab with you to make sure you get home safely? After all, there is a serial killer on the loose.”

               “I’d rather walk, if you don’t mind,” she told him, watching as he stood. “And yes, you may walk me home.”

               Sherlock helped her up off the ground. “You have an uncanny ability to read minds, Miss Hooper.” There was no humor in his tone. Normally, he would’ve laughed or smiled, but Sherlock couldn’t muster anything of the kind.

               Their walk was quiet, filled with tension so thick, it could be cut by a knife. Molly didn’t want to have to do this, but if she and Sherlock were to ever make a real go at a relationship, she needed to put herself first for once. She mentally thanked Sherlock for catching on so quickly. It was quite amazing, and a bit disconcerting, at how much he had changed in such a short span of time. Though, the thing is, he never really changed—no, that wasn’t the right word. Sherlock had an emotional breakthrough thanks to his sister, although her methods were the very definition of madness.

               Sherlock was the first to cut the silence when they finally reached her door. “Please, take care of yourself, Molly. I am so very sorry for springing all of this on you. Take as much time as you need, but just know that whether you decide you don’t want this or not, I do love you. Very much.”

               She gave a soft chuckle. “I’m not out of your life completely, Sherlock, but thank you. It really isn’t anyone’s fault.” Molly wanted to tell him she loved him too, but, for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to utter the words. “Are you going to be alright?”

               The tension in his face faded away immediately, and he broke out a wide grin. “Me? I’ll be fine.” With such an expression, Molly would have almost believed it, but his eyes betrayed him, a sadness hidden in the depths of his ocean irises. Regardless, she had to believe it for their sake. “Don’t worry about me, Molly, really, there’s no need.”

               “That’s what you said last time before—“

               “Before I went on a drug binge, I know, but I promise you I’m through with it,” Sherlock assured her. “It’s not worth losing my life over, nor is it worth hurting those who care for me.” There was a moment of silence.

               “Well, I should probably go inside before I catch my death out here,” Molly remarked. “Goodnight, Sherlock.” She turned to go inside, and he watched until he knew she was safely in her flat. He then turned away, allowing the darkness to swallow him up as he walked away, unknowing that a pair of soft brown eyes watched him go.

.

.

               Cold, inhuman eyes watched the detective leave the pathologist’s flat, noticing how her eyes followed him from the window until he had disappeared. How interesting it was to him that Sherlock Holmes was on the side of the angels, just as James Moriarty once said. He must be punished for going against his true nature. It was time to act, but not yet on Miss Hooper. No, he would save her for last. There was no fun in the game if he didn’t get the fear and anxiety rising in Sherlock Holmes; fear of how his beloved will soon die.

[enjambments]

on the "scar tissues" collection on Foundation

“scar tissues” is a collection of self-mythologies in collaboration with AI. This project aims to explore the self as envisioned by the machine. A single prompt is used to produce these images, which are generated as a variation of the one before it. Each work comes with ekphrastic descriptions that revolve around the concept of the multitude of the self with all its irrationality.

Scar tissue is formed around a wound as part of our body’s self-healing process. These become natural tattoos that mark a memory of an old wound. Scar tissue hides what once was and eventually becomes a part of what is hidden—the undeniably palpable lump of skin, designating the experience of pain from healing, and the proof of its occurrence.

In this personal collection, I dug up pieces of myself using text prompts in Midjourney, preserving each instinctive part of me in all of its own complexities. The process of sending a text prompt, receiving an image, and reflecting on each output propelled me into a rabbit hole of introspection and meditation. Each piece is a persona, using the AI as a mirror in my own attempt to recognize a part of myself that is being hidden from me in the process. Each piece is treated as a “scar tissue” for each aspect of myself that I repressed and tucked underneath the deep recesses of my unconscious. The images produced by AI from my prompt defamiliarize me away from all prejudice and preconceived notions I hold about myself, avoiding biased and subjective descriptions. Each piece is always a departure from the unknown. It is Narcissus's reflection and Nietzsche's abyss.

What is represented are my hopes, worries, regrets, arrogance, hubris, and other denials in their portrait form: mangled, uncanny, disfigured, yet clear that it was once human. What we see are only traces, long after they had decayed. Consider this as exhuming old parts of me, and a post-mortem study of the things I deliberately refuse to recognize and kept rotting inside myself.

What I choose to hide is part of who I am and how I want myself to seem. This concealment is a form of the same truth that is as ugly as it is revealed to the naked eye.

See this collection on Foundation:

Kael Espino (@enjambments) | Foundation

[theperidotshade]

Fic Masterpost (In Progress)

Here’s a list of the completed fics I have so far:

Star Wars:

Ten Facts About Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and High General of the Grand Army of the Republic, Counter-intelligence Divison

Gen, Teen and Up, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Multi Characters, Butterfly Effect, Not a Fix-it, Asexual Character, Content Warnings: Implied Violence, Character Death

Their Promises They’d Kept

Gen, Teen and Up, Sidhe|Changeling!Obi-Wan, Content Warnings: Illness, Violence, Manipulation, Uncanny Valley

To Return

Gen, Teen and Up, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Time Travels, Content Warnings: Violence, Major Character Death

Tolkien:

Where the Shadows Are

Gen, Teen and Up, Mìriel and Fingolfin Character Studies, Content Warnings: Mental Illness, Suicidal Ideation, Neglect, Violence

MCU:

Tony Stark is Not Well

Gen, Teen and Up, Tony Stark Character Study, Tony + Health Problems, Content Warnings: Mental Illness, Chronic Illness, Violence, Near-Death Experiences

Crossovers:

An Unexpected Evening

Gen, G, Kingsman & Mythology, Fae & Faeries, Arthurian, Content Warnings: Magical Entrapment (mentioned)

Of Wizards and Fitting Retribution

Gen, G, Dresden Files & Political RPF, Humor

And here are my WIPs:

Tolkien:

Starting Over (Is Harder Than It Seems)

Gen, Teen and Up, Celebrimbor and Galadriel Character Studies, Content Warnings: Mental Illness, Suicidal Ideation, Emotional Abuse, Violence

FFXV:

Ardyn in Paradise (tag) and fic

Teen and Up, Somnus/OFC, Gilgamesh & Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Fix-it, Political Intrigue, Demisexual Character, Content Warnings: Illness, Profanity

Ardyn Time Travels AU (tag) and fic

Gen, Teen and Up, Ardyn Izunia & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia & Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Time-Travel Post-Mortem Fix-it, Content Warnings: Major Character Death (in flashbacks), PTSD, Suicidal Ideation, Illness, Profanity

Arranged Marriage AU (tag) and fic

M/M, Mature (just to be safe), Ardyn Izunia/Regis Lucis Caelum, Arranged Marriage Fix-it, Slow Burn, Political Intrigue, Non-binary Character, Content Warnings: Transphobia, Ableism, Torture (past), Temporary Major Character Death (past), Victim Blaming (past), PTSD, Profanity

ASOIAF:

The Bards Will Sing of This One Day

Teen and Up, Multi Ships, Multi Characters, Character Studies, Content Warnings: Mental Illness, Illness, Obsession, Violence, Sexual Violence, Major Character Death

[rizka-san]

The Timeless Man

Call me the new and improved but realistically, I moved two feet from where I stood.

You shouldn't have fought a MC that's born ready to die, who would've thought you can't see the truth you should've bought glasses to be me.

You wouldn't believe in yourself anymore, the deceased thoughts are uncanny or sickness brought with you have many unsure they'll live to give their life to receive the proper blessing.

There's a difference in closer to a closer, when people are supposed to hold you they instead close the door on you, the dark room's only your last look as you become the closer to a book cover.

Don't judge by it's cover they say, I won't nudge the dragon's snout if it means I make it out alive.

Meaning, don't mess with the person if it's for the sake of your life or not they'll take you under tonight

Seen in, closed curtains that your hands hold to wipe your tears.

Type your fears, told in bold fonts to mark like stone.

The same stone will haunt your own head, listen to me closely.

A bird's eye view means to be high, so I must be gliding above Everest because I could never rest on the ground since I'd have to be at most levels.

Wise like an owl but I despise fake wisdom, I take at random and then inspect them, selective few are the only respective who's are seeing all my raps as poems instead of wraps filled with bloodthirst with filling of post-mortems.

Caught by the corners, you hit the edge with your head, cracked open, hoped when you died you were just sunny-side up.

I've stacked holding cells with bars that when I packed the golden ring it slips on the floor, floor's too wet from the liquid assests I own and when I get the mop to clean them up? It's all just going in my bucket of profits, can't get enough of it all.

What I'm saying must be hold to a high degree, check my temperature and measure my body weight for a taste of how deep my toes- wait no feet are in.

I'm walking on water, it's all shallow though, talking becomes harder when your brain slows, man.

You better appreciate what I made and create, see I repeat my fixtures to have them shine from my mind.

I only hold golden sight, I've told all of them tonight that I'll be back but for now just sekkle alright?

Whether you can see the water I hold or not, you'll feel them when I release then like gunshots.

This is the birth of a genius, when I speak out, it better be heard word for word in arenas and you even shall feel this, when I die they'll say I was something else.

My intelligence sinks deep oh well, I feel in dence forests of thought I've paused time to think about my next rhyme to speak out.

Mediation doesn't do much to me when I can physically touch the mind, I can literally rearrange my thoughts around like they were building blocks.

The minute and hour sticks now remain irrelevant now, from what I've gained I'm heaven-sent on a mission to give everyone a lesson.

Listen to me now.

The Timeless Man, the one who beat time to the tick and I'll now pick when it's my time to stop.

[dailycharacteroption]

Martyr (Paladin Archetype)

By their very nature, paladins are defined by self-sacrifice, putting themselves in harm’s way to protect others. Some, however, take this notion even more seriously. To them, no other mortal should suffer if they can do so in their stead.

These “martyrs” oftentimes literally embody their name, dying for a cause, but most also realize that while they are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, it is not to be made lightly or in vain. Better to suffer for others in the future than to die against a relatively minor threat early on.

As such, these paladins are rarely alone, finding communities or parties to join and protect them by suffering the worst that evil can throw at them so that others remain relatively unscathed.

 With certain sacred hymns and conviction of faith, these holy warriors can open up bleeding wounds on their body which often have some symbolic significance to those knowledgeable of their faith. The combination of those chants and the uncanny wounds can serve as ample distraction from the visual or audible magical trickery of foes, or it can be used to galvanize allies to greater acts of courage to see such a clear sign of divine favor. The paladin must be wary though, for they can only manifest this power so often, and the blood they bleed is very real, potentially weakening them.

Furthermore, the conviction that these paladins hold projects an aura of protection, warding themselves and allies against the sights and sounds of wickedness, whether they be words with magical power to manipulate, the gaze of some fell beast, or other such effects.

Paladins have many auras that they use to protect themselves and their allies, and those of these warriors are especially potent, spreading over a wider area. However, in order to do this they lose the immunities to such effects that those auras grant.

Even disease has difficulty taking hold in the proximity of these holy warriors.

Finally, these paladins are more versatile in their laying on hands than most, and while they can heal certain conditions that they have learned to do so with relative ease, they can also heal any other condition they might have learned to heal properly, but only by taking on the burden of the illness themselves.

If you really want to support your allies to the point where your character is at risk because of that self-sacrifice, this flavorful archetype might be what you’re looking for. A support paladin build makes the most sense here, and while all the potential bonds they can take are good, consider looking into the alternate bonds from Healer’s Handbook for even more supporting abilities!

 The biggest issue I can see with this archetype is that some die-hard Christians might get upset about the use of stigmata as flavor. On the other hand, it’s always commendable to see a company trying new things and pushing boundaries in where they draw inspiration from.

  Normally sainthood is a post-mortem honor, but Nayda has died repeatedly for the cause across her lifetime, eager to return via resurrection magic to continue her work, though the nature of her pact puts her at risk. However, certain forces, including a marut inevitable, seek to send her to her final reward permanently.

 Those that mock the tengu as a skulking, sneaky race are quick to be reminded of the story of Breppu the Molted, who strode calmly alongside the injured and sickly, tears of blood streaming down as he shed feather after feather, preventing any harm from coming to them as they evacuated during the siege of Arfaad.

 Having lost an entire part of his jawbone during a nasty run-in with tooth fairies in his youth, Sir Ogin normally keeps his scars covered so as not to alarm others, but the old paladin is no stranger to pain, calmly standing in the path of blows to save another, and taking disease and harm into himself no matter how much it hurts.