#interrogation cw

[peppermintpinklemonade]

A second chapter! Titled ‘Occupational Hazards’. In reality I wrote these two shorts in tandem but decided to split them into two different chapters since they’re different stories.

There’s no spoilers since it’s non canon compliant :)

[crows-mask]

blink, gone [alnst shuake redraw]

[pigeonstab]

[kodasea]

The abyss stares back

[qoldenskies]

i hope it's okay to message you about this (that bringing it up helps, not makes it worse)

it's about the people who've been being dicks about your writing

this popped up in my dash really soon after your boundaries post, and holy shit the timing

the people criticizing your work need to have this vacuum-sealed onto their brains

not just the people unable to curate their own experiences, but also the people being overly critical of the technical side

i'm gonna be super pretentious and pull the "my mom is an english major" card to try and make myself sound more Qualified To Judge when i say---- your works are REALLY good

you may not be a mainstream-famous author with 30+ years of experience, but seriously, if it weren't for the copyright issue, it would be *more* than quality enough to publish

-with a *good* publisher

so many people love it, and it's also better, from a technical standpoint, than most novels you could pick up at random in a bookstore

because it has a *depth* to it that's so hard to achieve

it anchors its hooks into your mind and steadily reels you in as the darkening atmosphere slowly- almost imperceptibly, at first- curdles, gradually infusing liquid ice, drop by drop, into your blood

the further you read, the further the dread deepens, smoothly and organically, like a spreading puddle of rot seeping from the belly of a discarded carcass

it's so *realistic* in its gradual nature that it feels like you're watching the nightmare develop in real time

it sucks you in

it gets to the point where it feels like the angst has peaked, sucking the breath straight from your lungs- and then the tension *just keeps climbing*, the dread crystallizing into sickly cold shards down your spine with each additional scene until it all shatters at once and you're left trying to remember how to breathe

it's the sort of story that makes you have to stop and stare at the ceiling for several minutes after reading, just to process

whatever people have been criticizing and nitpicking about, it, doesn't change the fact that only *really well written* stories are able to grip your heart and wring it out on your shoes like that, and you should *absolutely* be proud

it's so good

this is so kind ;~; this is probably the most descriptive praise ive ever gotten of any of my writing and idek what to say. need to ss this and squirrel it away somewhere or something cause waow

[abbacchiosbelt]

Jjba Bruno prompt #24 with interrogation :)

You're already shaking with nerves before you step into Bruno Buccellati's office. You'd only met him a scant few times after your family had come pleading to Passione for protection — and each time had unnerved you. His unnerving gaze seemed to hover on you when you were in his presence. You'd never willingly choose to stand in front of his office's doorstep, but a summons there by Bruno himself had forced your hand. Your family made it more than clear that saying 'no' wasn't a possibility.

Behind you sits some of his crew, their eyes burning into your back as you stand silently, your hand raised to knock. Your muscles refuse to let you move, and a bead of sweat begins to roll down the back of your neck. If you weren't sure your family would be punished for your disobedience, you'd turn tail and run as fast as you could.

Before you can move, the door in front of you swings open. You see Bruno seated behind his desk, and he beckons you forward with the crook of his finger. The question of how the door opened if he was sitting behind his desk was only a fleeting thought. You enter quickly and the door shuts seemingly by itself. Flustered already, you huff out a surprised noise, and you hear a low chuckle across the room.

He was amused by how nervous you were. Heat creeps up your neck as you swallow the verbal jab you wanted to throw at him. You hated Passione, and that extended to the man in front of you. It didn't matter that you'd heard good things about him from nearly everyone in the neighborhood - you refused to trust someone who aligned themselves with the mafia.

You finally come to stand in front of his desk. Though he was seated, it felt as if Bruno towered over you. His presence made the fight or flight instinct in your brain flare to life, and it was all you could do to not reconsider your earlier plan of running away.

"I assumed I wouldn't need to explain why I called you here today." Bruno offers no pleasantries as he immediately begins whatever it was he had planned to say to you. He doesn't give you time to reply, folding his arms on the table as he leans forward and continues to speak. "That blank look on your face when you stood at the door told me I was wrong."

You shift, uncomfortable. How did he know what you looked like when you were standing out there? Before you can question him, he gives you a look that keeps your mouth shut.

"Come here." Bruno gestures to his side of the desk, and you swallow thickly. What did he want? You follow his words, cringing inwardly at how easily you gave in to him. You hadn't even been able to choke out any words. He gives you an expectant look when you round his desk to stand before him. “No, not there, in my lap.”

You grimace, unable to stop yourself, and he smiles. "You really are naive. Your family didn't tell you what kind of deal they made, did they?"

You're pushed by an unknown force into Bruno's lap, awkwardly splayed across his legs. Your heart skitters in your chest, anxiety and fear clawing its way into your nervous system. It was all too much in such a short period of time when you hadn't even known why you were here in the first place.

You're held steady in Bruno's lap even though his arms remain on either side of the chair he sits in, his lips curled into a smile that made your skin crawl. "I suppose I shouldn't keep it from you any longer. When I told your parents of my interest in you, they jumped to find a way to make me happy." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "Today was the day we agreed you'd come into my possession, and in return, they'd get a hefty discount on their future fees."

"Wh-what? What the hell are you talking about?" You finally manage to find your voice, adrenaline surging. "You're lying. Just tell me how much my family owes, and I'll pay it."

Bruno begins to laugh, throwing his head back as if you'd told the funniest joke he'd heard in years. You don't know how to respond, wordlessly sitting on his lap until he finally stops.

"Sorry, sorry." He starts. "It's just, you really have no idea, do you? Your family owes multiple generations of debt. It didn't start with your family, but your parents were more than happy to pay their share by way of... well, you. And I told them I'd consider beginning to chip into their remaining debt if you behaved. I suppose they were too cowardly to tell you what they'd done before sending you to me."

Bruno sneers, as if they were the only ones making poor moralistic choices in the situation.

The pit in your stomach that had been growing before you'd walked into Bruno's office practically feels like a black hole now. You want to hold on to something, to grasp at something tangible, but any movement would put you closer to Bruno than you already were.

"Don't worry about them," Bruno interprets your silence as acceptance, unwilling to consider you'd feel any other way. "We'll make a new family. Together."

[ilhoonftw]

[whumpcave]

Every last secret

Content: Truth serum, interrogation, captivity, bound

Originally on ao3 in fandom

Whumpee eyed his captor, who was walking up and down, going on about some evil plan in a thick accent. He has heard this story over and over, the boredom was killing him. 

“Look, I really don't give a shit about your grand scheme. Just get on with it already.” 

His captor stopped in his tracks. 

“Alright whumpee, you don’t wanna hear my plan, I won’t tell you my plan.” 

“Thank God.” whumpee sighed, shifting in the chair he was bound too. 

“But you’ll tell me yours.” 

Wait what? 

Whumper walked over to a cabinet in the corner of this room, if you could call it a room. It was more of a mangy cell, dirty and dusty, this was probably the first time it had been used in months, maybe years. 

He pulled open the doors and retrieved something, whumpee couldn’t tell what. 

“You aren't going to tell me what you’re hiding, what you want, correct? So, I'll force you.” 

Whumpee tensed. 

"So, you’re going to punch me? Have a few stabs? Be a real big boy?” He snidely retorted, putting on a mask of false confidence. 

“Oh no whympee,” he revealed a small glass and bottle. “You’re going to tell me the truth.” 

Whumpee faltered. 

What was in that bottle? Is that some kind of truth serum? 

His captor poured the bottle into the small glass, whumpee watched as the blue liquid filled the cup, sloshing around sickeningly. 

Whumper set the bottle down and walked over to him. 

Whumpee’s eyes widened, he flinched back, hard. He didn’t know what that drink contained, what it would do. What if it made him tell everything? He would be fired, maybe killed. God no, he couldn’t drink it, he wouldn’t drink it. He can’t. 

Whumper was bringing the glass closer to him, whumpee panicked and turned away, that’s when he felt hands on face, forcing him to look whumper in the eyes.  

It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t open his mouth. 

“Come on, open wide. I know you’re thirsty.” 

It’s true, he was thirsty, his throat was dry, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a drink. But he was not drinking that. No way. 

I mean he wasn’t. 

Not until whumper stepped on his foot harshly, causing whumpee to gasp and his lips to part. 

Before he knew it he felt the substance slide down his tongue. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to keep himself from consuming the fluid. 

Whumper threw the cup aside, glass shattering to the ground. He then clasped a hand over his mouth, so he couldn’t spit it out, and with his other hand, he yanked his hair back, so he couldn’t help but swallow.  

Whumpee coughed and spluttered, tears coursing down his face. 

It tasted disgusting and left a metallic feeling in his mouth. He retched. 

“Wasn’t so bad, was it? Now it may take a while to work, how about we pass the time, eh?” Whumper reached down and picked up a shard of glass. 

Whumpee was mortified. 

***

Whumper wiped his hands on a napkin before looking back at whumpee. Who was panting and coughing. His shirt was tattered, wounds littered his body and blood was dripping onto the floor. 

Blood. Whumpee's blood. 

Oh No. 

He couldn’t be bleeding, what if he bled out? Was he going to die here? In this dark, grimy cell? No, he couldn’t die, could he? He's gone through worse, surely he'll survive this. But there was so much blood, his shirt was wet with it, it was leaking onto the ground! He couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he couldn’t breathe and he was going to die. 

“So whumpee, let’s see if my little potion worked.” 

Fuck, he nearly forgot. 

Whumper crept up behind him and rested his hands on whumpee’s shoulders. Whumpee jerked away. 

“What is your name?” 

He heard a voice, it was his. It was his but it wasn’t. It was dull and solemn with no inflection. His lips were moving, but he wasn’t the one moving them. He was like a puppet on a string. 

“Whumpee.” 

“Are you afraid, whumpee?” 

He turned away, he didn't want this, he wanted to be in the safety of his home, to see his friends, Fuck, he would even be thankful to see caretaker. 

“Yes.” 

More and more questions came, as whumpee's lips moved on their own. Tears dribbled down his cheeks as he unwillingly spilt  

Every. 

Last. 

Secret. 

[time-is-restored]

im seeing so many people say that sophietexas said shit she unequivocably Did Not Say so like. just for my own peace of mind.

when dream asked what she'd said about him/george, she explained that she had tweeted a friend's misogynistic experience with george (without details), which she took down because it 'caused more harm than good' and 'it was becoming more about me [than the victim]'.

they shared a screenshot of the tweet with him

dream, assuming there was more to the story (apparently he'd been told she was talking shit about him?) asked what else she'd said. he also asked why he/george wouldn't know what incident she was referring to if it was 'that bad'

sophie clarified they only tweeted about george, and said the interaction in question was not assault, and they wasn't accusing george of that

dream asked for more details, accusing them of not wanting to 'hear another perspective'. basically saying it wasn't fair that they'd say this shit when it could be a 'miscommunication' or not true

sophie said again she wasn't going to say anything else because it wasn't her story to tell

dream said that was ridiculous, and asked why they'd had positive interactions in the past if she was so negative towards them now

sophie explained george had ignored them + therefore been rude, didn't mention the context, and DREAM said it 'probably happened' in an among us lobby. made a comment about how he'll 'never know' why they don't like him

sophie said she didn't like his attitude. dream said it was hard to have a nice attitude when he was getting texts from people asking why everyone on twitter thinks he's a 'serial rapist'

sophie said that the conversation was getting unproductive, and that she wasn't going to expose her friend. she said she doesn't wish for dreams downfall, and she just wants the creator space to be safer

now, about what she DIDN'T say/do:

she did not accuse george of 'being a misogynist because he ignored her in an among us lobby'. she mentioned that they had been in among us lobbies when dream said he didn't remember her. separately to that, she said that george had ignored her when they'd spoken. seperately to that, the misogynistic behaviour accusation was her sharing a friend's personal experience. all she ever said was that george was rude to her.

they did not accuse george of assaulting anyone (aside from expressing support for caiti), and they clarified that their friend's negative experience was Specifically Not Assault before they deleted all related tweets.

she did not accuse dream of literally anything. i cannot emphasise this enough. dream clearly thought/was told that she said something abt him, and kept asking what 'else' she said apart from the tweet (which she willingly showed). again, all she said about dream was that she thought he was nice, and now thinks he has a bad attitude.

sophie did not share her friend's story in detail because that wasn't what the friend wanted. if you think that's shady, please consider that dream went public in order to accuse connor + sophie of saying shit about him/george without having proof. if sophie had named her friend, or given details, that knowledge would've become public too. then please consider the reaction that caiti has received these past few weeks, after accusing george of something george admitted to. consider the ways people are still calling her a liar, or a clout chaser, or of exaggerating/changing her mind and calling it assault after the fact, after george has agreed that what she said happened happened. would you, knowing that context, want to expose your friend (who already didn't want to come forward personally!) to that level of scrutiny and judgement?

leave sophie the fuck alone come on guys. their 'crime' is not liking george or dream and expressing that to dream's face. they made a tweet on behalf of a friend which they took down bc they felt it was detracting from caiti's story. that's literally it.

[whump-in-the-closet]

What about some sweet drug induced hallucinations :0

content: interrogation, noncon drug, hallucinations, needle

"I'm not telling you a thing!" spat Whumpee, twisting against their restraints.

Whumper laughed. "I'd hardly expect you to say otherwise." They turned to fidget with something just out of Whumpee's view, something metallic, something that clicked and clattered along the table.

There was a sudden, sharp smell of ammonia and harsh chemicals.

"They all say that, to start with." Whumper faced their captive with a hypodermic needle in their blue-gloved hand. "And then they meet my friend." They squirted a small amount of clear liquid into the air, and then nodded, satisfied.

Whumpee forced a laugh of their own. "You think that scares me? A big needle? What am I, five?"

Whumper smiled, teeth razor sharp in the glinting light. It didn't reach their eyes. They stepped closer, "Don't fight it. It'll hurt less this way."

Whumpee fought it. They thrashed and kicked but Whumper merely stepped to the side. Grabbing a fistful of hair, they shoved Whumpee's neck upwards, baring it to the needle.

Whumper wiped a patch of skin clean with an antiinfectant, the cloth stinging cold.

Whumpee snarled. "You'll need more than a needle to get me to break, smartass."

Hot air brushed against Whumpee's ear as Whumper whispered, "I don't need you to break--" the needle pinched the side of Whumpee's throat, ice-cold and biting, "I need you to wish you had."

They let go of Whumpee and stepped away.

The drug hit them like a weight dropped on their chest. The pain was immediate, jagged, gnawing at their inside. Whumpee stifled a cry and slumped against their restraints. Within a few seconds, their limbs stopped listening to them and their head throbbed--pounding to a strain of music they only half-recognized, a song they should know but couldn't place.

It took all of their strength, all of their training to look up. The corners of their vision blurred, twisting into spirals that distorted depth, light, and-- and everything.

Everything.

Whumper stood in the shadows, laughing. Their face--no, their entire head-- shifted. It bloomed into the face of a deer-- a deer with bright, brilliant eyes, its stare too blank, too wide. Its horns spiraled up, up, up into razor-points, syringe-points-- dangerous--horrible.

Whumpee whimpered, drawing back.

Something rose out of the shadows with teeth and burning skin.

-- help me--

Whumper towered over them, the smell of rot overwhelming, singing Whumpee's nostrils.

Whumper ran a hand through Whumpee's hair, laughing with a voice that sounded like wind in the dead trees. "You're not going anywhere."

Something snapped, a knot unraveling in a thousand different directions-- it felt so real, so so real.

More voices. More voices joined the first, whispers curling into the chaos of the drug, pulling at the edges of their sanity.

Help--

[repeatcubed]

Febuwhump Day 9 - Necromancy

I saw a prompt that inspired this idea, and I haven't been able to find it to tag, so I apologise to that creator. If I find it/if someone sends it to me, I'll be sure to edit again to tag them and the post.

TW: Death, mention of torture, kidnapping, undeath, experimentation

How long had it been since he was taken? Two months, three? And now, it was finally over.

They got the information they needed. To get there it had taken starving, beating, anything they could come up with. Of course the promise of release at the end had been a lie. It was always a lie.

They held him under water, watched and laughed as he kicked and flailed and tried to escape. All fruitless efforts, resulting in the next step. If there even was one.

Jason stood still, water dripping from his body. Everything was black, dark, cold, and he wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. Was he really dead? Or was it all just a dream?

He felt a sudden pull. It started in his chest, dragging backwards, from where he had been walking. Every section of his body started to tingle, buzz, and burn. The freezing water that had soaked through him hissed as it boiled off of him, his chest aching, limbs going tense.

He suddenly rolled over, not getting a moment to catch his breath before retching. Water spewed from his mouth, burning all the way up until it splattered on the floor. It tasted metallic, and mixed in with the disgusting puddle he could see clots of blood.

But it wasn’t pitch black anymore. He felt grass under his hands, a stone on his back. There was a moon, and stars, and a breeze. And a man standing over him.

“So you are aware.” The man smiled, in the midst of walking a thick tome into a satchel at his side. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

He sounded cheery, but the look in his eyes was far from comforting. Deep pools of black. Jason could almost feel the darkness that radiated from them.

“You’re a-” His voice failed for a moment, aching in protest from the previous onslaught to his throat. “You brought me back?”

The man above him hummed, kneeling down until their faces were mere inches apart. “My toys usually aren’t this aware when they wake up.” Did his mouth even move when he spoke? How was he so still?

Jason choked back a whimper, finally taking the time to survey his surroundings. It just looked like a field. Where were they? What did he mean by toys?

“You’ll be in pain for a while.” The man straightened up once more, removing the book from his bag once more. “But, after the fourth or fifth time, you’ll get used to it.”

“What?” Jason’s mouth went dry, his attention returning to the man once more. “Fourth or fifth time of-”

“My early toys never used to last that long, lost too much of themselves and became-” He paused, his lip lifting into a sneer. “Absent. Boring. But, practice makes perfect, I suppose.”

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper as he tried to push himself up, to run. “No, you can’t do this to me!”

The man suddenly called out a word, his voice tangled and distorted. Jason couldn’t understand it, but his body certainly did. He fell still, silent, and his mind melted painfully in content. What was happening?

“It’s hard to find a body in as pristine condition as yours.” The man grabbed onto his bicep, only requiring a gentle tug before Jason followed him to a house he never realized was there. “You’re going to be my perfect rendition. Welcome home, treasure.”

[tricksterlatte]

One more The Spiral Staircase WIP I have previously posted elsewhere, since you guys enjoyed the others 👀 takes place during the Chase the Joker epilogue, though Akira’s POV and with further context

[elennalore]

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Picture yourself in a boat on a river With tangerine trees and marmalade skies Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly A fey with kaleidoscope eyes

(Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney - one word is changed)

Celebrimbor hallucinates in the hands of Sauron who wants to know the location of the three Elven Rings. My art for @silvergiftingweek day 5: Darkness.

[justplainwhump]

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain. 

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?" 

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while." 

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #9 (Lend an Ear)

Title: Field Notes on Misija, Part III

Wordcount: 1028

Alternate Universe: WoL was out fishing

Spoilers through: Shadowbringers, specifically Bozja storyline

Relationships & Characters: Misija, Fordola

Summary: Even further handwritten notes on the history and character of the IVth's covert operative, Misija Votyasch.  Use to add to your field record.

(Experimenting with a new format this time! I’ve been wanting to try my hand at writing an “interrogation transcript” in the style of one of the Bozja Field Notes for a while. I just did DRN on my alt last weekend, so it seemed a good idea to write it while that was fresh in my mind!)

.

This document records a supervised visitation between Ala Mhigan Resistance conscript Fordola Lupis and covert operative Misija Votyasch, as facilitated by liaison officer Apella. 

.

M: Back again, I see. And you’ve brought a friend too. Is this another interrogation? I've already said my piece, and you yours.

A: This is Fordola Lupis, of the Ala Mhigan Resistance. She has requested permission to speak with you.

M: I don’t recognize that name. Her face and uniform seem familiar, though.

F: We crossed blades in Delubrum Reginae. 

M: So the noble Resistance has resorted to sacrificing the soldiers of its allies rather than risk being tempered themselves. Even now, I find new ways to be disappointed in the supposed “values” of the nation they seek to build.

F: Your eikon posed no threat to me.

M: If it hadn’t been for the Eorzean champion, I would have tempered you like the rest.

A: You have five minutes, starting now.

M: And just like that, she’s gone. Shame. She’s a gentle one at heart, it would not surprise me if she approved this visit herself. But who are you? What do you want with me?

F: I just needed to know: were you another dupe or another madman?

M: I don’t follow.

F: Seeing as you still don’t know the smell of your own shite even after it’s bitten you in the arse, I’m guessing it’s the first one. 

M: If you’re just here to insult me, you can leave.

F: Did you know tea works for the headaches? And that painkillers what put you to sleep don't? Or did they leave that part out too?

M: Who said I was having headaches? …Ah. I understand now. So you’re her. We thought test subject XXVIII had been executed by the rebels. 

F: Not yet, they haven’t.

M: I pity you. But your own sympathy is misplaced. The IVth isn't like the XIIth. I did not gamble my life in an unethical experiment the way you were made to.

F: Like hells you didn’t. There is no safe procedure.

M: I speak the truth. Van Galbranth cares about the well-being of his men. He would not trust Sicinius if he didn't have standards. 

F: Standards? You met that man and you thought he had standards? He's a snake like mal Asina was before him. Any assurances he gave you were worth less than bollocks.

M: And yet, I stand before you.

F: Aye, unlike the poor bastards we dug up underneath the Castrum. Dozens upon dozens of corpses for the one miracle that was you. No different than in Ala Mhigo.

M: You’re lying. There were no corpses. 

F: Mayhap not on the report you saw. You never stopped to wonder? If the Garleans could piss super soldiers like they were water, why wouldn't they? 

M: …

F: It's because they can't. Like I said: dupes or madmen. Those are the only lot what volunteers when the survival rate’s less than six sodding percent!

A: Two minutes left.

M: I cannot fathom what you hope to gain from this bizarre debate. Suppose your assessment is correct and not merely outdated. What does it matter? I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking my pride over the proof of a single deceiver amidst our ranks.

F: Keep your bloody pride, I don’t want it. But you’ll want to hear the rest I’ve got to say.

M: Out with it, then.

F: Don't worry about the dreams, those are normal. Not feeling your limbs, or feeling like your body's not your own, is not. Tell someone, though if you've got to that point it's probably too late anyhow.

M: …Fascinating. Undoubtedly concerning. But fascinating nonetheless. Are you describing a fatal mismatch between incorporeal and corporeal aether?

F: Do I sound like a scholar to you? I’m just repeating that what’s been told to me. 

M: As you so colorfully emphasized, I was not made aware of this danger by any Garlean scientists. What was your source of information?

F: One of the Students. My Mikoto, so to speak. She was… kinder to me than I deserved. Afterwards.

M: Krile Baldesion, if I am not mistaken.

F: The records had her name, but not mine? Hmph. Right - speaking of, check your blood type if you ever need a transfusion. Mine’s turned into the same rare Lalafell swill she has. You’ll likely get Au ra.

M: Why would trace aberrations in the soul alter the nature of corporeal aether? I am no expert in such fields, but what you are suggesting goes against even basic, foundational aetheric theory.

F: You ever stopped to watch a ceruleum refinery? 

M: I presume you are going somewhere with this. Yes, I have. They built one over the polluted slum where I grew up. Why?

F: Those flares they set off? That's you. Your soul’s now got more aether than your body knows what to do with, and it gets funny about it. …Or something to that tune. Feels great until it doesn't. By now you'll be hitting the pins and needles stage. Exercising makes it go away for a while. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn't.

M: You have a talent for memorable imagery, I won’t deny that. We may agree on very little else, but I can respect your advice, and the candor with which you have chosen to share it.

F: If you ever need some bugger to talk to about it all, I’ll lend you an ear. Least I can do, seeing as you’ve let me borrow yours all this time.

M: I see. So you’re another gentle soul, even if you have a markedly unpleasant way of expressing it. I will keep your offer in mind. Our minders permitting, of course. 

A: Your time is up. Please conclude your discussion.

M: It was interesting to meet you, Fordola. I’ll admit our conversation was stimulating, if nothing else. 

F: Don't kill yourself.  …Alright, I’m done. You can take me outside.

.

A copy of this report has been submitted to Commander Raubahn Aldynn as per the agreement between the Bozjan Resistance and Eorzean Alliance to flag anomalous behavior among conscripts and imperial defectors.