Difference between revisions of "Jennifer Bhulher"

Revision as of 20:50, 1 July 2017

'"Jen," "Helms"'

Played by: Ember16

INFORMATION

Mortal, Female, 24

Aliases: ERROR 404 Not Found
Nationality: American
Residence: ERROR: 500 Internal Server Error
Employer: ERROR 404 Not Found
Function: ERROR 404 Not Found

[[Category:ERROR 404 Not Found]]

JENNIFER HELMS BHULHER

Loading… Loading...

Please wait...

TRANSMIT - musical chairs signal - RECEIVE - initiate verbose frequency - HOW IS A RAVEN LIKE A WRITING DESK? - initiate poetic licence - WITNESS - Jennifer Bhulher

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.

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.

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.

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 unknown teacher cannot truly know the half-made man that curdles on the precipice of her heart.

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.

Rest now and see, at the base of the blue-red tree.

WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.

This page has been marked as a work in progress.

The information on this page is incomplete and should not be relied upon as accurate or official. Please check back later.

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.

BHULHER FAMILY

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.

MEMBERS:

-'Miranda Bhulher' (Formerly 'Miranda Sleter'):

-'Benjamin Bhulher':

-'Peter Bhulher':

-'Jennifer Bhulher':

SURVEILLANCE NOTES:

This page has been marked as a work in progress.

The information on this page is incomplete and should not be relied upon as accurate or official. Please check back later.

Selected file is corrupt. Please contact ((SERVICE NOT FOUND)) aNd - sTOP r-Ea-d-ing NOW-.11.0##

ERROR. ERROR 988342.32bhfug28wr3iobgrph0AGIBSG787rb

FILE DELETED FILE DELETED (00/00/00) DATE UNKNOWN FILE QUERY LOGGED

Difference between revisions of "Jennifer Bhulher"

Revision as of 20:50, 1 July 2017

Contents

JENNIFER HELMS BHULHER

BHULHER FAMILY

Navigation menu

Search

@@ Line 36: / Line 36: @@
 Please stay tuned for a MESSAGE from your GLORIOUS HIVE.
- OBSERVE: a woman. She is connected to something, as you are 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.
+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.
- 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.
+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.
- 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 the inky sex drips off the page and a cadaver tumbles down a rabbit hole.
+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.
-  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.
+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 unknown teacher cannot truly know the half-made man that curdles on the precipice of her heart.
+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.
+Rest now and see, at the base of the blue-red tree.
 WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.
 ----