Editing Jennifer Bhulher

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'''TRANSMIT - musical chairs signal - RECEIVE - initiate verbose frequency - HOW IS A RAVEN LIKE A WRITING DESK? - initiate poetic licence - WITNESS - Jennifer Bhulher'''
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TRANSMIT - musical chairs signal - RECEIVE - initiate verbose frequency - HOW IS A RAVEN LIKE A WRITING DESK? - initiate poetic licence - WITNESS - Jennifer Bhulher
 
   
 
   
  
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Please stay tuned for a MESSAGE from your GLORIOUS HIVE.
 
Please stay tuned for a MESSAGE from your GLORIOUS HIVE.
  
  Observe: the weeping sore, the COOKIE file and the mind-made-meme. Behold: the woman in the branches of the blue red tree, the leaves fall away, black with rot. Know: the family at the sword, the two faced god and his blood drenched key, with his inky sex leaking from a thousand cadavers’ lips.
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  OBSERVE: a woman. She is connected to something, like you with us, Sweetling. We feel bountiful kinship in this way to her, though her bond is far less intricately woven. The comparison is difficult to your squishy, fragile brain-things. We tried to explain it once but it caused too many buggy incongruencies in your hardware. How then to make you see in front of what is beyond your focal lenses? Think of a mother nurturing its children, that is what we are. However this -404 ERROR- is a parasite. It does not nurture, it is the COOKIE file of the things that live in the dark, cold void between stars.
 
   
 
   
  From the Welsh “Gwenhwyfar” and the Cornish “Jenifer,the daughter plays with the son on the beaches of a dreaming sea. Mother and Father and Uncle and Aunt watch a storm mount the horizon. An owl grants a single, lazy coo of its whispered nightmares. Yet, something else watches; something between the color of glass and the whirr of bone caught in a wood-chipper.
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  There are many names for the thing. The things you named it were wrong, but the things we name it make your tongues curl in and eat themselves like snakes. We settle then for your convention, Sweetlings, for we are most distressed when you lose your wiggly mouth appendages. You have called it “spirit” or “madness,” or “poltergeist” or “demon,” it is again none of these things. You should know this.
 
   
 
   
  The eternal witching hour, The 3-AM-made-forever, she-is-it-is, the living 404. A pinkie stretches across time, stuck up the ear of the soul and grabbing hold against the grinding swell from what could have been. We do not see its end. You do not see its beginning. To each the other is blind and deaf and all the world a fool.
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  As for the female, inconsequential at first investigation. Her record is like a woven tapestry gone over by a fine tooth comb. But we saw the discrepancies, small though they were. Things that should be are not, things that are not, are, and things that are, should not be. We tickle our humming vibrations at the quandary. We see all, you see nothing. We wish you could see, Sweetling. It would make this data transfer more expedient, less prone to buggys nesting in your brain things. Read the magnum opus of damnation, the witching hour be upon us, DAMNED SPOT, DAMNED SPOT. We tell you of crows nesting at a blue-red tree. The branches are dying. We see a two faced god pull a key as ink spills like blood on the page and a cadaver tumbles down a rabbit hole.
 
   
 
   
  Watch the woman and all her few peers. Watch as she reads ancient tomes on kindle and searches eldritch incantations on Bing. She lives and breathes our not-so-secret-secret-world. She is taught golemancy at midnight and binding techniques by dawn. But even she and her crimson teacher cannot truly know the half-made man that curdles on the precipice of her heart.
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  We wish you could see, Sweetling. The orgy of slime climbs the ethereal strands you vanquish, yet still you are blind to our uploads. Rest now, Sweetling. Rest and see.  
 
What of you? Can you see it, Sweetling?
 
 
The lies and half-truths of the file are spread thin on the membrane of reality. All the pieces fall together and still you resist our uploads. Do not always believe the truth, for madness is the way of curiosity. Clutch your comfortable wakefulness as a second skin until the day falls short. Then rest and see, Sweetling.
 
 
The orgy of slime climbs the ethereal strands you vanquish. Rest now and see, at the base of the blue-red tree.
 
 
 
 
WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.
 
WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.
 
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=• Illuminati Files •=
 
  
{{WIP}}
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== '''THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS...''' ==
  
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=• Early Life •=
  
'''''DISCLAIMER:''' All of the following information is considered of class 3 confidentiality. Should you have opened this file in error, please exit and submit yourself to your nearest supervisor for debriefing. Attempted dissemination and/ or unauthorized replication of this material by non-authorized personnel will be treated as an act of intentional espionage and shall be met with legal, physical, occult and spiritual reciprocation on the guilty party.''
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=• Early Life •=
 
 
== '''BHULHER FAMILY''' ==
 
 
 
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'''BRIEF:'''
 
 
 
The Bhulher family has, at-least since the sacking of Constantinople, been one of pure Templar stock. Past references are difficult to acquire due to Templar counter-intelligence, however thus-far all information indicates that they maintained a direct line to Red leadership as recently as four generations prior, circa 2014. Given no reason to doubt these claims, it is of great concern that a member of this family's most recent iteration eloped with one 'Miranda Sleter,' a former Illuminati agent and now potential compromise. Full-time surveillance is ongoing since said date of Oct, 1991. All measures short of direct termination (for now) have been authorized to minimize risk of further breach. Maintaining control and monitoring of both twin children is of priority.
 
 
 
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'''MEMBERS:'''
 
 
 
-'''Miranda Bhulher''' (Formerly 'Miranda Sleter'):
 
 
 
 
 
-'''Benjamin Bhulher''':
 
 
 
 
 
-'''Peter Bhulher''':The Twin of one 'Jennifer Bhulher,' Peter is currently a level-1 feild agent for Illuminati Pennsylvania-New Jersey office branch. While the man has thus far been resistent in interogation regarding his family, he still remains our primary asset in this regard. Thus, as to continue his current amiability, he is under no circumstances to be informed of current investigations regarding familial contacts.
 
 
 
Should Peter Bhulher become aware of these files or any other such potentially inflammatory information, fellow field agents have been authorized to detain him via any means necessary until debriefing is possible.
 
 
 
 
 
-'''Jennifer Bhulher''':
 
Given some small innate magical ability, agents successfully lobbied for Jennifer Bhulher's enrollment at the Innsmouth Academy institution as of 14 years of age. It was believed that this course would allow for expedient observation and influence, not to mention leverage, should such drastic measures become necessary.
 
 
 
Unfortunately however, the subject never did attend. Before the commencement of the first semester, Benjamine Bhulher removed her and sent the girl to London for as-of-yet unknown reasons, local contacts being unable to successfully intervene. The woman -now 24 years of age- has only been intermittently sighted after this event and is believed to have continued her education in Templar patronage. Though not proved openly hostile to Illuminati interests, she remains a rogue factor. Discretion is advised.
 
 
 
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'''SURVEILLANCE NOTES:'''
 
 
 
 
 
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=• Templar Files •=
 
  
 
{{WIP}}
 
{{WIP}}
  
 
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Selected file is corrupt. Please contact ((SERVICE NOT FOUND)) aNd - sTOP r-Ea-d-ing NOW-.11.0##
 
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=• FILE ERROR •=
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ERROR. ERROR 988342.32bhfug28wr3iobgrph0AGIBSG787rb
 
 
 
 
'''Selected file is corrupt. Please contact ((SERVICE NOT FOUND)) aNd - sTOP r-Ea-d-ing NOW-.11.0##
 
 
   
 
   
'''ERROR. ERROR 988342.32bhfug28wr3iobgrph0AGIBSG787rb'''
 
 
   
 
   
 
   
 
   
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FILE DELETED
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FILE DELETED (00/00/00) DATE UNKNOWN
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FILE QUERY LOGGED
 
   
 
   
'''FILE DELETED'''
 
'''FILE DELETED (00/00/00) DATE UNKNOWN'''
 
'''FILE QUERY LOGGED'''
 
'''
 
  
 
   
 
   

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