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preservationofnormalcy · 1 day

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A family moved in down the street last month. This sounds normal, but they're suspiciously close to one in a story I'm writing. I made a character last year with the exact family. Did I somehow predict this family's arrival, or have there been any past cases of peoples' fictional creations coming to life?

We call this "parafictional" manifestation, and you can learn more by clicking on the parafiction tag my intern Jenny will append to this post. The short version is that this does happen but we have to be careful. The vast majority of the times this happens, especially with a fictional property only one person know about (like this personal project you have) these aren't truly self-aware entities that have manifested - these are lures.

Some entities like Outsider behavior patterns feed on the human capacity for creativity (has a lot to do with emotions involved with creative expression being particularly attractive to psychophagics) and to harvest that, they'll exploit your own thoughts and creations. Either to feed on you psychically, or literally.

Be careful. You obviously don't want to assume these new neighbors are automatically harmful in this way - it could just be a big coincidence - but there's a few things you can do.

Ask another creative neighbor about them. These things will be a mirror, typically. They'll reflect what the viewer already has in mind. You might see these folks as Mr and Mrs Smith from your book, but your neighbor might see them as Mr and Mrs Takahashi from the manga he's working on.

You could also very gently ask them some nonsense questions. If this is a lure, it'll also be a "chinese room" - an entity that is able to mimic human conversations simply by examining textual data en masse and regurgitating what the response is likely or expected to be without actually understanding it. You might feel silly, but try asking a nonsense question, like if the sky feels glarble or if nods yon today. If they just raise an eyebrow, green flag. If they try and respond without breaking stride, red flag.

If you get a couple red flags that way, send us another message. We'll send someone out.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #advice #parafiction

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preservationofnormalcy · 21 hours

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So are the four horsemen just a way to represent their names (like, is Famine just a kind of metaphor for famine) or are they like… actual dudes.

(please let it be just a metaphor-)

It is the policy of the Office that the Four Horsemen (and other psychopompic or eschatological entities) do not represent an authority that we actually recognize as having any say in the realm they claim to represent.

When they ride, it’s not their decision to make what happens to Earth, or indeed realspace in general. It’s ours.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask

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preservationofnormalcy · 9 months

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I feel confident enough to post these now. A collection of all the existing posters after some edits from the other post that got 13k notes! These are full size/quality. Go nuts.

You may use them for wallpapers, tabletop campaigns, whatever. Consider tipping me or buying a print or sticker on ko-fi here! If you do use them, let me know what for, or send pictures!

#ooc post #office for the preservation of normalcy #poster design #artists on tumblr #urban fantasy #workplace safety #cryptid #fae #aliens #ufos #demons

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preservationofnormalcy · 27 days

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Just as a reminder, I did up all the new posters in the simplified B&W style, and I'm using them for cheaper "budget option" posters in folded-once 11x17 and 8.5x11. They're lower cost and cheaper to ship, so it's a good option if you like the designs but can't afford the bigger stuff. They also ship well with the stickers and art cards. You can find the listing at this link below!

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ooc post #physical media

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preservationofnormalcy · 19 days

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PSA for the eclipse today:

If you’re in the path of the eclipse, a reminder that you will briefly be exposed to ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ʉ₦. This is a totally harmless event, provided you do not directly look at ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ʉ₦. Don’t look at it without special eclipse glasses, which have been shielded against cognitive hazards. Do not gaze longingly at ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ʉ₦. ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ʉ₦ is not your friend, it will not save you when the end comes.

Do not look directly at ₮ⱧɆ ₴Ʉ₦.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #PSA #solar eclipse

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preservationofnormalcy · 18 days

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neighbors smokin shit again. multicolor sparkly smoke. are yo guys gonna come down or do i put another round of buckshot through the wall?

Please do not do that. We -- wait, ANOTHER?

Look buddy, I get annoyed at wizards just the same as any mun mun mun mundane human, but if everyone shot at a wizard every time they did something obnoxious there'd be no wizards left. No offense, wizards.

Multicolor sparkly smoke...they might be, uh. Partaking in what we used to call hexweed. That good good cryptograss. Callin' up Mystic Jane for her special sorcery stash. Doing that Green Invocation.

Oh my god.

Burning that herb in the crystal ball. Rolling the occult joint the likes of which wizardkind had never seen. Runic reefer tended by the most spaced out spellcaster on the eastern seaboard. Smoking the kind of stuff that gives you illegal divinations, that wicked wicca-kush liable to make you live deliciously. Skunky six leafed plants watered with pure alchemy, you know what I mean.

That's not legal in very many states, still federally restricted. If you can live with the idea of being a narc you can report it through standard LEP Recon team channels.

...what?

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #advice #wizards #cryptobotany

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preservationofnormalcy · 2 months

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[As I climb the multiple levels of stairs to the ranger tower, I take a moment to stop and reflect. I’m exhausted - after the hike to get here, the relief that I felt upon seeing the tower was tempered by the realization I had several flights of stairs ahead of me. I was in Washington State, flown here by my handlers to talk to seemingly the only Esoteric Ranger that would be available for the next month. Not for the first time, I wondered what it meant that they heavily suggested my interview subjects. The best person for the job, or the best PR face in the department?

I reach the top and stop again, and take a drink of water. A figure sitting inside the room at the top turns and sees me, and gets up to open the door. He is young, in his mid to late twenties, long brown hair done up in a bun, a large scraggly beard over the top of his ranger uniform. He has a look of amusement on his face, a sort of polite smile doing its best to cover up a smirk. His accent is thick, Appalachian, and his demeanor still manages to convey a sort of genial calm.]

S] Meghan, right?

M] Yeah. Hold on, let me…catch my breath.

S] Aint no worry. Take the time you need. I’ll just leave the door propped open. And if it helps, there’s iced tea in here waiting for you.

M] That does help. I’ll just….be a second.

[After a moment, I joined the man in the observation room. A cot, a shelf of supplies, a desk with a radio setup, a laptop on a table. A simple room for an apparently complex job. The tree-eye logo of the Rangers is plastered on many surfaces, well worn.]

M] Sheamus Doyle, right?

S] Yes ma’am.

M] I’m Meghan.

S] Pleasure to meet you. Lemme just….

[He takes a jug of iced tea from a minifridge and pours some into two mismatched cups, sitting at the small table and glancing at his laptop for a moment as I sit across from him.]

S] Pardon me, just watchin’ the ‘squatches.

M] Watching?

[He turns the screen around - a topographic map of the area is displayed, black with white lines, with about a dozen white dots congregating in two places.]

S] We’ve been watching the cryptid migrations. They been odd since….well, since. Ain’t been following their normal routes.

M] Is that what the Rangers do? I’m sure you know I’m here to ask questions, so….I guess that’ll be my first one.

S] A large part of it, yes ma’am. Cryptid watch.

M] I guess that’s the “catch and release” part of the poster I saw.

S] Mhmm. It’s hard work, y’know. Better here’n in the Everglades taggin’ skunk apes though.

M] Let me look at my notes…kind of scrambled after the hike here.

S] Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Everyone’s gotta do a stint in the firewatch, and we pull double duty takin’ notes on the ‘squatches while we’re here.

M] Tell me a little about the Esoteric Rangers.

S] We’re older than the Office is. Bet they ain’t told you that.

M] How so?

S] Office was founded in ‘27, right? E-Rangers were a secret division of the National Park Service, founded –

M] 1916, eleven years earlier.

S] That’s right. Even then they knew weird stuff happens in the forests, so they had a little bit earmarked for people to investigate or protect people from the weird stuff, and the weird stuff from people. When the Office came around later, we got folded into them instead. But by that time, y’know. Eleven years. That’s enough time for a place to develop a sort of….culture.

M] How do you mean?

S] We’re under the jurisdiction of the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy, ma’am, but between you an’ me, the Rangers have our own ways of doing things, our own rules. Was a requirement of the merger.

M] I see. So forested areas are your jurisdiction?

S] Anything that takes place on ‘r around a national park or a nature preserve usually has at least one of us onsite. We have our checklists, our methods for findin’ out what’s going on. Weird shit happens far from civilization.

M] Like what?

S] Reality sorta…gets weak, out here. I heard y’talked to Wren.

M] I did.

S] They’re always on about that noosphere stuff. Out here, with no people, noosphere kinda gets a little…wobbly. It’s like…if enough human minds are the bungee cords holdin’ down a tarp. It’s fine most of the time, but sometimes there’s a wind, you know? The noosphere don’t have the guidance to tell it what to do, so you get…

[He trailed off.]

M] What?

S] I seen weird shit, ma’am. Woodpeckers that move backwards, sealing up holes in trees. Hikers from twenty years ago, missing their faces. Places where the sun never shines, like that old song. Areas that looked like Lucifer’s vacation home, all burned and sulphur-smoke. Deer speakin’ in the voices of dead relatives, antlers shining blue. Gunshots where there shouldn’t be people. Realspace is weak out here. Veil gets thin when there ain’t no one to see it.

M] Is all that true?

S] As true as Mama’s promises.

M] Mmh. Tell me about the….cryptids. What is a cryptid? I know it’s like…unknown creatures, but for you they’re clearly….known, right?

[He sat back after a drink of his tea, giving a wince and a so-so gesture of his hand.]

S] That’s the mundane definition, yeah. The Office’s definition of a cryptid is….a creature whose existence ain’t really evolutionarily plausible, that would raise a lot a’ questions were it known. Jackalopes, you know, no other bunny has antlers, sort of thing. They probably didn’t evolve, per se, so…

M] What about the sasquatch? Wouldn’t it just be seen as a missing link?

[He nods, thinks for a second, looks at his computer, and then jerks his head to the door.]

S] Lemme show you something.

[On the platform outside, bolted onto the railing, is a telescope - or I assume it is. Attached to the long barrel of the device are a lot of wires, a plastic casing that looked like it housed a small electronic assembly, and a revolving series of lenses that look like they can be rotated into the eye ports like an optometrist’s testing machine. He looks into the scope, adjusting the lenses and a few knobs on the side of the device, and locks it into place.]

S] Here, take a look.

[I look into the scope - for a moment, I think there’s something wrong with it. I can see a clearing in the forest, and three….shapes. Smudges on the lenses? No, he’d have seen that. The shapes are blurry blobs from this distance, out of sync from their sharper surroundings. I’m about to take my eyes away from the scope and ask what I’m looking at when I feel him reach over and adjust the lenses again, rotating a new set into place. It’s accompanied by an electric click and a soft whine from the device, and now I can see them clearly. The three blobs were large, humanoid figures, covered head to toe in rusty brown fur. One stands guard in the clearing, while another sits on a stone, grooming the fur of a third, possibly a juvenile. They are...impossible. Majestic creatures, even from this distance.]

S] We call it an Obfuscation Field. They’re sort of always….blurry. In the 30’s we developed techniques to see through it, y’know, but it’s one of those things people can’t find out about.

M] Unbelievable.

S] Somethin’ wrong?

M] It’s just…this whole time, you know?

[He leaned on the railing, taking a vape pen out of his shirt pocket.]

S] Yeah, I heard they kind of threw you into all this. Sink ‘r swim. I wager most people get a slower introduction.

M] Did you?

[He took a hit of his vape pen.]

M] Should you be doing that on the job?

[He gave me an amused look, gesturing around to the forest. I could almost imagine a hypothetical camera comically zooming out to show the remoteness of the tower.]

S] Nah, I grew up in all this. My family’s been practicing “The Work”, so to speak, since they came here four or five generations ago. I never got the hang of witchcraft, myself. You get a dud every other generation, so they say. My sister’s a natural though, she’s interning with the Office in Archival.

M] Some people are sort of…born into knowing this stuff.

S] We call it being “in the community”. At a certain point it all blends together. Your family does folk magic at a certain level, you grow up with your best friend bein’ a lycan, that kinda thing.

M] I feel like I’ve missed out.

S] Ma’am, sometimes it’s more trouble’n it’s worth.

M] Yeah?

S] I love my friends, my family, but….you think I wouldn’t flick a switch, give all this up? Be Sheamus the hipster and not Sheamus the cryptid hunter? Be a hell of a lot more simple. Weird shit attracts more weird shit.

[He took another hit, exhaling a thick cloud. For a moment, shapes in the cloud coalesce - the prominent brow of an ape, a rabbit with antlers. I wonder if he was being modest about his lack of magic.]

M] I’m not really sure.

S] You’re letting it get to you, all of this. So quick, so extreme. I think you need an industrial grade chill pill, ma’am.

M] Maybe I do.

S] I got a guy coming in to bring me supplies tonight. Stay here, watch the sunset, you drive back with him.

M] Are you sure?

S] Hundred percent. Take the evenin’, ma’am. You need it.

(Buy the poster here!)

#office for the preservation of normalcy #interview #esoteric rangers #cryptids #Bigfoot #sasquatch #jackalope #cryptidcore #in the pines in the pines #ooc: sorry I’ve been so quiet. hopefully back on the horse <3 #urban fantasy

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preservationofnormalcy · 15 days

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(Pictured above - a map showing the current segmentation of the Burroughs, the People Below's sections of political territory, with annotations showing the leaders of each. Which Burrough do YOU reside over?)

Public Information File 55661: The Molemen/The People Below.

The Office provides this information to the extranormal public in order to educate about our neighbors Below. Let's learn about the Molemen - together!

The Molemen first appeared on the Office's radar in 1965, when one Thaddeus Marsh, an expert in soon-to-be illegal genetic engineering and anatomy manipulation, began to talk to colleagues in the extranormal sciences community about retreating underground. Fearing nuclear annihilation in the Cold War, many of his associates agreed with him.

Using currently-classified anomalous technology, they created a series of self-replicating bunkers deep underground, starting with small rooms that expanded into massive complexes that gradually connected via long tunnels. Railroad systems were established in these tunnels, and by 1971, enough work had been done that Thaddeus Marsh felt confident moving people underground.

The work was quick, but the other scientists, hired workers, and civilians drawn by the promise of safety had not expected Marsh's mental deterioration. All of the personnel who moved underground were trapped and subjected to extranormal genetic and anatomic manipulation to "better adapt" them, in Marsh's belief, to a life underground.

From 1971 to 74, Marsh, now known as the Underking Murmur, ruled with an iron fist. His territory expanded under the lower 48 states, and parts of Canada and Mexico. His madness seemed to grow with his power, kidnapping cavers, miners, and other surface-dwellers to induct them into his army. Developing unimaginably vast factories, he created digging machines capable of moving anomalous amounts of dirt. By 1974, his plan to invade the surface world with these machines became widely known among the People Below.

The organizing body responsible for the incredibly complex logistics of moving so much earth, the Miner's Union, fomented a revolution in the Underground in mid-74. After three months of vicious fighting, the loyalty of the Underking's minions was tested and found wanting. Underking Murmur was deposed, and in its place the Union members created a council. The Underking's territory "balkanized" into 12 loosely-allied "Burroughs" that the Office recognizes as the political authority of the People Below.

With recent diplomatic efforts, the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy has welcomed the People Below to the surface under our Legal Extranormal Persons program.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #documents #maps #molemen #urban fantasy #microfiction #wizardposting

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