#or you can tell a story about how the infection progresses

[rival-the-rose]

Last week I went to the doctor for a pre-scheduled appointment (trying to see if putting my luxated and sub luxated ribs and shoulders back every couple weeks will train them to stay in place) and as I was going thru recent symptoms my doctor pointed out that a bunch of things I thought were random and unrelated could've in fact been a viral infection.

And it's just been rattling around my brain since then. Tiny little capsules with almost nothing but simple genetic information in them got into my body and as a side effect of making more tiny capsules, they made me barf for exactly three hours, then gave me sialoadenitis, then made my left elbow swell up and hurt. Sure. Ok. How does that help you, little capsules. Why just the left elbow, or just the sublingual salivary gland. What are you guys doing in there. I'm not mad I just wanna know

[millervrse]

A SECOND CHANCE ! joel miller x reader

summary: Joel was sent by Marlene to come find you and bring you to Saint Mary’s. You are the only human aside from Ellie Williams who has been bitten and not turned: You are the only way that a cure can be created where no blood is shed. But to do that, you’ll have to warm up to the hardass that is Joel goddamn Miller.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, so minors dni, occurs after the plot of the first tlou, but before joel gets ellie out of saint mary’s, some canon facts are changed for the sake of this story, ENEMIES TO LOVERS! reader has a heavily established backstory that is to be explored throughout the series, game references (tess, the fireflies, sarah, the general plot of the game, etc). implied age gap. reader’s just as tough as joel, if not worse! warnings will change and be updated as the series progresses.

word count: 2.8k+

LYN SPEAKING! alright, hey! i’m lyn, and i’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for close to a year now (yes, a year) and baby FINALLY finished the first installment of this series i plan to work on based on it. i sincerely hope this is well received! if you want to know when i update this series, please let me know, and i will kindly tag you. also, if you have any ideas as to where this story can go, my inbox is wide open! alright now, buckle up and enjoy!

PART I: IMMUNE

“If there’s no way for you to do this where Ellie lives,” Joel said, a dark gruffness to his voice as the words leave his lips. “Then it ain’t happenin’. I swear it.”

Joel Miller and Ellie Williams had been through hell and back to deliver her to the Fireflies. People had died along the way, close to the pair or not, and sacrifices had been made for the greater good. But now, as they stood at the end of the line, Joel realized that there was no greater good, and that they hadn’t been to hell.

Because this was it.

Joel stood defensively before Marlene, the woman who was the reason this was happening in the first place. The Fireflies wanted to make a cure for the virus that had taken their world by surprise twenty years ago. One that would cure the infected of their curse, to bring them back to the human beings that they once were. But to do that, Joel would have to make the biggest sacrifice of them all.

Losing Ellie.

He couldn’t bear to lose a second daughter, not when he had already given his all to have her. To keep her. Not when he had already lost Sarah in his arms all those years ago. No, no, no. Sarah had been unfairly shot, unfairly killed, and Joel was powerless to help her.

That wouldn’t be the case with Ellie.

He stood in front of an unconscious Ellie now, laid out over a bed in the hospital he had delivered her to. He had managed his way in here by narrowly avoiding Firefly personnel. But just as he was about to flee, Marlene and several soldiers behind her had him cornered every which way.

“Joel—“ Marlene did her best. But Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“No,” he barked, gun trained on the brunette. It didn’t matter if this ended in flames. It didn’t matter if he died. If he was doing it for Ellie, then he’d do it again and again, in this life and the next. “If there is no scenario where this little girl survives, it is not, happening.”

There’s a pause, a look of delay in Marlene’s eyes as she looks at Joel. She debated. Should she tell him? Should she reveal a secret she had been holding back since he had taken this assignment nearly a year ago?

This was no time to hang back.

“There’s one.”

That, was the moment in time when Joel Miller learned about you.

A girl, who had also been bitten, and not turned. A girl, whose history Marlene refused to delve too deeply into. A girl, who could be the cure to the cure, where nobody died. 

Where Ellie lived.

“Where do I find her?”

———————————————————————

That’s how he had gotten here.

A noise sounds from behind you as you're readying to go and hunt for food in your house in Vermont, alongside a brief patrol to make sure that no infected were lurking by. You’re quick to tense when the sound fills your ears, grabbing the crossbow that was on the counter near you, the one that you’d thankfully just loaded, and whipping around.

A man who looked much older than you stood in the doorframe. He was tall with tousled hair, a green, wrinkled shirt mirroring his gruff demeanor. Your gaze darkened at the sight. You hadn’t seen a human being in a millennia. Let alone one that you hated to admit, was handsome.

You didn’t let that deter you, however, raising your crossbow higher and aiming it at him.

"You've got five seconds to tell me what you're doing here,” your voice firmly rang out as you drew the bow. Thank God you’d always been a natural at aiming. “Or I'll put one between your eyes.”

The man put his hands up, though his face remained neutral as he stood in place, as if to show he wasn’t afraid of you. “Easy does it,” he rasped, his voice as gruff as he looked. “I’m not here to hurt’cha.”

“Then, leave,” you returned. “This doesn’t have to end in blood. And if you get any fucking closer, I promise you, it will.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” the man said in jest, causing you to draw your arrow back more, a warning for him to watch his tone. A sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders tensed at the gesture, closing his eyes and opening them to meet yours. “Look. I was sent here to find you. Alright? I just need to talk.”

This wasn’t going to be easy for Joel, was it?

Your aim never wavered as you responded. Your first thought was what the fuck was he talking about, but the curse doesn’t make the cut as you answer. “Sent by who?”

A pause.

“Marlene.”

You tense.

“She said you’d know her.”

Oh, you fucking know her, alright. Who the fuck was this man and how the fuck did he know about you and Marlene? It’s impossible, you think. That was years ago. This man was lying.

Right?

“Marlene?” you scoffed, your voice shaking. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t spoken to Marlene in years, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be sending anyone to find me,” you return, the furrow already present in your eyebrows deepening, eyes drowning in suspicion. “Who are you, really?”

The man doesn’t move, instead keeping his arms raised like he’s some sort of peace offering. “The name’s Joel, Joel Miller, and I swear on my life that what I’m tellin’ you is true,” he said. When he took note of the apprehension in your expression, he lowered his voice, letting it relax into one that was meant to make you feel calm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Alright? Just let me explain.”

It didn’t help.

You wanted to shoot this man already, with every fiber of your being. Your trust issues were rattling like fireworks in your brain, telling you that he was a liar, that he was trying to get you vulnerable, catch you off guard. But against your better judgment, you nodded, hanging fire for him to go on.

"There's a, uh, little girl. Her name's Ellie. About a year ago, Marlene asked me and a friend o’mine to smuggle her out of Boston, where we were, in exchange for some guns. We agreed. But Marlene didn’t tell us why,” Joel began, sighing before going on. “Come to find out, little girl was infected, but the bite was three weeks old.”

A pause.

“She was immune.”

You tense again, like you had been over and over again since Joel had walked into your house. That word, that fucking word. That word that made your blood run cold. Made your head spin. Made horrid memories rush to the front of your brain. 

Immune.

You raised your eyebrows at Joel in disbelief of the three words that had just fled his lips. “That’s impossible,” you said. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he returned a little too quickly. “I was thinkin’ the same way you are. Ready to kill her right there and then when I found out. Thought Marlene set us up, knew it was only a matter of time before she’d turn and catch us by surprise. But the little girl, Ellie, wasn’t lyin.”

You grimace. A fucking little girl. You didn’t even want to ask how old she was. 

Because if this was going where you thought it was, then your heart was going to ache a whole lot more.

“Our journey had its ups and downs. We had to reroute over and over again. Fireflies can be pretty damn hard to find these days. But we ended up finding out that most of the ones who were remaining, were in Utah, holed up in some medical center. Ready to make a cure.”

Joel was about to go on, keep explaining. But he didn’t have to.

You cut him off.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement, let alone humorous at all. It was one of disbelief, because how in the fuck had the universe spared you that day, just to bring it back to your feet? A scoff escapes your lips, and you sigh, pushing your tongue into your cheek before answering. “Saint Mary’s, isn’t it?”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “How’d-” he said in confusion, wondering if he had accidentally let it slip a few minutes ago in his hasty battle to keep an arrow out of his brain. “How’d you know?”

It’s your turn to be confused. If Marlene had really sent this man all this way to come find you, you figured she wouldn’t have spared him the details on the true nature of your connection, or lack thereof, to Marlene. “Are you kidding me? I’ve lived this,” you say, a bit of  malice behind your words as you raise your bow. “And if you think I’m going to go through that again, you better think fucking twice,” you warned.

Joel scoffed, undeterred by your threatened show of violence. He had seen scarier in his over twenty years in the apocalypse, and he was sure that if you wanted to shoot him, which you were more than capable of doing, you would have done it by now. "Little lady, I am not asking you too, alright? There's more to it."

Your expression doesn’t get any more welcoming, much to Joel’s annoyance. “Then you better get to talking, because I’m dying for an excuse to shoot you. Pun intended.”

Killing a bloater is easier than suppressing an eye roll at your words.

"Look, that girl and her bite, Marlene thinks that the head surgeon over at the Fireflies could fix up a cure. A cure for mankind. But she can’t undergo the surgery alone, not unless, unless—”

You finish for him.

“Not unless she dies.”

Joel nods, his feelings too grim to ask how you know that. He was sure that there’d be lots to uncover about you, that is, if you agreed to come back to Utah alongside him. “Right. And Marlene said, that if I found you, there’s a chance you could undergo the surgery with Ellie. And she’d survive.”

You take his words in, mulling them over in your head. The survivor in you was screaming to not let your feelings take hold. That no matter how desperate this man was for you to come with him, you would have to decline. But your conscious, the moral part of you that somehow persevered no matter how cruel this world had been to you, was bellowing. It wasn’t fair, what was happening to that little girl. It wasn’t fair that she would have to die to fix a world that was arguable beyond fixing.

But then again, what had happened to you was unfair too. And so was this unexpected arrival.

“You’re asking me to leave the comfort of my own home, travel across the damn country, go off with a man I don’t fucking know, all for a goddamn chance?” you asked. There was no violence behind your words this time. Just disbelief, incredulousness. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Joel never lowered his hands as he spoke. “Look, I know you’re uncertain, and I would be too. But this girl, Ellie, she—” he paused, doing his best to maintain his composure. “I just can’t lose her, okay? I can’t.”

Now your face relaxes, if only a little bit. You can see the raw and vulnerable look in Joel’s eyes, the gloss to his brown eyes that shines in the dim light of your house. 

“You’ve grown attached to this girl, haven’t you?”

Joel Miller was a tough man. Feelings weren’t in the cards for him. Not since Tess, not since Sarah. And for the love of God, if he could turn them off and never feel again, it’s likely that he would. So for now, he doesn’t tell you how much Ellie really means to him, returning to the cold approach he took on the world before he met her. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have, not that that matters,” he dismisses. “Point is, lady, if I have to drag you out of here kickin' and screamin', I will. But I ain't leavin' without’cha."

You scoffed. "You don't even know my name."

Well, for some reason, you figured he didn’t. But just then, he said it, proving you wrong in seconds.

 “Ain’t it?”

Don’tfeeldon’tfeeldon’tfeel.

You and this man were more alike than you knew.

Rolling your eyes, you speak up once again, pushing your feelings down into the gutter where they belong. “Let me tell you this, Miller. I gave up the hope a long time ago that there was anyone else out there like me, and so did Marlene. Why in the hell should I believe you?" you ask.

Joel parts his lips to speak, but words don’t come out. You were right. He had given you no reason to believe him, to trust him, and especially not, like you’d said, to leave the comfort of your own home and join him on his quest to save mankind, to save Ellie, if she was actually fucking real.

There’s a brief pause before he answers. "I don't know how else I can convince you. I can't, to be honest. But Ellie, she needs you. I can't let her die."

You paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in. God, you were apprehensive, but he, he was adamant. And the look in his eyes was tearing your survivalist ideologies to the ground.

"Saint Mary’s ain't close,” you say.

Joel’s eyes light up. It’s not a yes, but it’s hope. "I know,” he says. “I've got a car."

"A car?" you asked in shock. What more did this man have up his sleeve? You hadn't seen a working car in years. They weren’t easy to come by, and even if they were, gas was a major aspect of why nobody had cars anymore. Marlene and the Fireflies used to always have them, but because it’d been so long since you’d last seen her or a Firefly in general, you couldn't actually remember the last time you'd driven one.

"Yeah, it's a means of gettin’ around, kind of like-" Joel began. Annoyedly, you cut him off.

Did you really look that young?

"I know what a car is,” you said in annoyance. “Haven't seen one in years. You really have one?"

Joel decided to ignore your offended response, though it was hard to suppress a smirk at just how offended you’d gotten. "Yeah, I do. I told you, I'm not lyin'. Not about the car, not about Marlene, and not about Ellie. I promise.”

Promise.

You had it engraved in your brain that the word promise was a synonym for lie. It was just a kinder, less harsh way of putting it. But regardless, they were bullshit. Promises weren’t real. This wasn’t real. Joel wasn’t real.

You want to pinch your arm to make sure. Then you realize you’ve never had dreams this vivid.

You hated your face for the way it relaxed. You hated the fact that you could hear the genuineness in his tone, the converse of lies in his gruff demeanor. You hated the way your crossbow unconsciously lowered.

And you were going to hate Joel Miller for sure.

“You try anything, Miller—” you bark.

Joel’s eyes light up once again, and he can’t help the small smile that takes the corners of his lips. "You’ll put one between my eyes, I know. And I won’t, I promise.” 

“So are you comin’ or what?”

"Not so fast," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Give me some time to pack, mull it over a little more. You owe me that."

Joel wanted to protest, just a little bit. But he refrained, nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your eyes remained watchful, fixed on Joel as you walked backwards to the top floor.

There, in your bedroom, you think over what just happened. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to risk the life you had created, all for a chance? Who the fuck were you right now, and what had you done with the tough woman you had always been?

You were about to let your morals cloud your judgment, traveling far and wide to save a little girl you didn’t know, alongside a man you were sure you were going to hate. You were about to throw away all you’d become, all you’d ever wanted to be since what went down with the Fireflies all those years ago. With Marlene.

God fucking damnit.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Three)

Summary: He didn’t truly know if he was the only one of his kind, but he’d never met any other infected that seemed even remotely conscious. They were all just mindless husks enslaved to the brutal whims of the virus. And he had been slowly but surely turning into one of them, before he’d found her. His little dove. Word Count: 3176 Warnings: still no smut, flashback to semi-graphic noncon which can be skipped, the section is in italics with the middle and end marked by a singe asterisk (the triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual) Notes: hope the few of you who read this enjoy it as much as I do XD AO3, Masterlist

Ghost’s little dove seemed determined to get herself killed.

He hadn’t felt so afraid since he’d been bitten, when he saw her run into the cabin without so much as peeking inside first. And then her scream—God, her scream. For once, he was glad he couldn’t sleep, because he knew it would haunt his nightmares if he did.

The infected that was trying to eat her was dispatched easily, though not before it got unacceptably close to taking a bite out of her pretty face. He immediately crouched down to check on her, thinking of nothing but making sure there were no bites hidden beneath her clothes. He didn’t consider how she would feel about him touching her—and he didn’t consider how he would feel, either.

She was so warm.

He could feel her body heat even through her long sleeves and his gloves, and it was addicting. He wanted to pull her close and press her against him, to let her warmth chase away the cold that lingered in his very bones ever since his undeath. And he almost did just that—but then she shrieked like a banshee and kicked him, clearly trying to get away. It hadn’t hurt, he couldn’t feel pain anymore, after all, but he’d let go instantly anyway, backing away and trying to apologize. All that came out was a wet gurgling noise though, so he stopped, just silently looking down at her where she still sat on the floor, staring up at him with so much fear and confusion that he would have given anything to be able to comfort her.

Johnny would know what to do, he thought, and once again, he couldn't help but wonder just who this Johnny was. It was the only name he seemed to recall, from before. And it was only after he’d found his little dove that he'd remembered it, remembered the name that went with the disjointed sense memories of bright blue eyes, a deep Scottish burr, and the scent of clean soap.

“You’re real. You’re real, and you’re not eating me, and you’re— you’re protecting me. How? Why?”

His dove’s words brought him back to the present, giving him a spark of hope. She finally understood that he wasn’t going to hurt her, that he was keeping her safe. He groaned quietly in agreement, to let her know she was right and not just imagining things, but he was unable to answer her questions. He didn’t know how he had managed to hold onto pieces of himself, after his death. All he knew was that he was one bloody stubborn bastard, always had been, and always would be. He liked to think that that had something to do with him managing to fight off the virus, at least a little bit.

As for why he was protecting her… well, he was lonely. And he was fading, succumbing more to his instincts with every passing day in isolation. He wanted human companionship so fucking badly, and he could already tell that it was helping him remain himself. He felt more present, more alive in this moment than he had since the day he’d been bitten.

“You... Do you understand me?” His dove whispered after a moment. She sounded like she knew the answer, but he groaned softly in response anyway, awkwardly jerking his head up and down in a nod. His jaw wobbled grotesquely as he did, and he reached up to steady it, not wanting to disgust her any more than he already had, not when they were finally making progress.

She sucked in a sharp breath, big brown eyes growing impossibly wider. She looked shell shocked, and Ghost didn’t know what to do to change that. He’d never gotten this far with a human, before…

“Are there more like you?” She asked haltingly, after a moment of tense, heavy silence. “That— that are— whatever you are?”

Ghost carefully shrugged his shoulders, but at the same time, he held his jaw in place, and then jerked his head to the left, to the right, and then back to the left. He didn’t truly know if he was the only one of his kind, but he’d never met any other infected that seemed even remotely conscious. They were all just mindless husks enslaved to the brutal whims of the virus. And he had been slowly but surely turning into one of them, before he’d found her. His little dove.

“Oh,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. It drew his attention to the pale, bruised column of her throat, and his clouded eyes zeroed in on her pulse point. He could hear the thrum of her heartbeat, just underneath her soft looking skin. Her blood would taste thick and sweet on his tongue, he knew, and it would be so warm, as warm as she was. He sniffed deeply, groaning softly at her scent, and he felt drool pool in his mouth and leak out, down his chin. That, along with his dove’s small flinch, snapped him out of it. He quickly wiped the drool away, feeling embarrassed.

Slowly, she got to her feet, wincing as she stood up straight. She tried to dust off the dirt on her clothes, only to look distinctly horrified when she realized that black, congealed blood from the zombie that had attacked her now stained the stiff, pale pink fabric. She gagged when she accidentally touched it, and for a second, he worried she would throw up. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food left in her stomach, not when he knew for a fact she hadn’t eaten since before he found her.

He grumbled quietly, bringing her attention back to him, and then slowly moved towards the door, so as not to startle her. He picked up the corpse as he did, bringing it outside and moving it out of sight. He returned quickly, only to find her peeking out the door, watching for him. If he could have, he would have smiled. It was clear that at least part of her didn’t want him to go.

That part didn’t stop her from retreating rapidly as he approached, still maintaining a two metre distance from him at all times. He closed the door behind him as he re-entered the small cabin, then moved past her, deeper inside. He checked the single, tiny bedroom, but it was clear, just like he’d expected. He did find a thick quilt folded neatly over the end of the bed, and he picked it up, bringing it back to his dove.

She was in the miniature kitchen area, now, all the low hanging cabinets flung open to reveal bare, dusty shelves. She was currently trying to climb onto the tiny sliver of counter space to reach the higher ones, and Ghost growled disapprovingly. She startled, whipping around to look at him in fright. He held out the blanket as a peace offering, simultaneously moving closer. After a moment of hesitation, she snatched it from his stiff fingers and then backed away from him once more as she wrapped it around her shivering form.

Ghost opened the cabinet that his dove had been reaching for, and let out another growl—pleased, this time—when he found a solitary can of what he assumed to be beans, based on the faded picture on the label. He couldn’t read the words on it, and the reminder of how thoroughly the virus had destroyed so much of him made the hollow space in his chest ache faintly.

Once again, he offered the supplies to his little dove, and this time, she accepted it a little more graciously, a little less like she expected it to be a trap. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his gloves, and he suddenly wished that he wasn’t wearing them so he could feel her warm skin against his own.

“Thank you.”

The words were so quiet, that without the virus’s enhanced hearing, he doubted he would have caught them. But he did, and his foggy eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. She didn’t notice how happy she’d made him, though, too busy pulling back the tab of the can and scooping beans directly into her mouth. She moaned in pleasure at the taste—clearly, she was even more hungry than he’d thought, if a can of cold beans caused that reaction—and a low sound grumbled deep in Ghost’s chest as a very human emotion stirred inside him in response. He stood there in shock for a moment as he watched her suck her fingers clean, before it faded into self disgust and he jerked his gaze away, walking back to the door to stand watch, like a good dead guard dog. Because that was all he could ever offer her, his sweet little dove. That was all he should ever want. To protect her. Not to fuck her. He was a revolting, decaying monster—his outside finally matched his insides. She would never have desired a beast like him even before, and she certainly wouldn’t now. He was depraved for even thinking about it. Perhaps the virus had twisted him in more ways than he thought…

***

Lelia devoured the can of cold beans like it was the most delicious meal she’d ever tasted—and she grew up eating at michelin star restaurants regularly. But she hadn’t eaten in days, and she was starving. Andrew had always taken half her rations, claiming she didn’t need them anyway if she was going to stay thin and pretty for him. Lelia had stopped getting her period soon after, and at first, she’d been terrified that he’d finally managed to get her pregnant. But the test she’d managed to get her hands on had come back negative, and no other telltale symptoms had cropped up. She’d finally worked up the courage to ask one of the other women on the base about it, and she’d given her such a pitying look before telling her it was probably due to starvation. 

That was when Lelia had realized that how Andrew treated her was no secret, to the other people on the base. He must have realized it soon after, too, because that was when he’d started trading her body to the soldiers for bigger rations and longer shower times.

That was all she had been worth. A little extra food and a few more minutes of hot water…

*

It had been only a month since the dead started walking, but already, Lelia wondered if those who died in the initial chaos were the real lucky ones.

She’d thought her life was difficult before, as Andrew’s wife, when she’d been living on a large estate, constantly draped in the finest jewels and dresses, sleeping in the most comfortable beds, and being waited on hand and foot by a host of servants. Yes, Andrew had been cruel, the bruises on her body and the constant ache between her thighs were testament to that. And no, she hadn’t had a lick of freedom, not even allowed her own cell phone, or to leave the estate without his permission. But that was nothing compared to the utter hell her life had become.

She and Andrew now slept on a bed hard as a rock, and the food they were given to eat was limited and flavorless, if not outright disgusting. They had no household staff to do all their menial chores for them, and their lives had been stripped of all the conveniences and luxuries they’d both always enjoyed. Lelia had struggled greatly to adapt, but Andrew had taken things much harder.

He was angry all the time now, and he had nothing to do other than take his frustrations out on her by either fucking her or beating her. Nothing she did could calm him down anymore, all the tricks she’d learned to do so were now worse than useless. Even still, he held up appearances whenever they were around other survivors. Which was why she hadn’t been expecting him to do this.

They stood outside the Sergeants’ barracks. There were three of them, she believed, but she’d never interacted with any of them, as Andrew didn’t like her talking to other people, especially men. He had been trying to become friends with them, as he often complained to her about the privileges the soldiers got, and how he wanted in. He hadn’t been successful, though, with his father’s money now unable to compensate for his lack of charm.

So Lelia was quite confused as to why they were here, and why Andrew had such a grim but determined look on his face.

Nonetheless, she played the part of dutiful wife, her hand in Andrew's as she waited patiently while he knocked on the door. When it opened, showing all three sergeants inside, Andrew turned to her, cupping her face in his hands, and looked at her with… not remorse, but maybe regret. Like he didn’t feel bad about what was about to happen, but wished it hadn’t gotten to this point.

“Tonight, the good Sergeants here are your husbands,” he told her, words heavy with meaning. “Do you understand?”

Lelia did. Lelia understood very well. But she shook her head anyway, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’ve been good,” she whispered, heartbroken. “Please, Andy, I’ve been good!”

“So be good again tonight,” her husband said, voice hard, before kissing her forehead and letting her go. He turned to the soldiers, looking unhappy but resigned. “Use condoms, and be careful around her stomach. I’ve been trying to get her pregnant.”

Lelia wanted to scream as the soldier closest to her took her arm in his big, meaty hand and dragged her inside the room. But she said nothing. She couldn’t make her mouth work, because she wasn’t inside her body. She watched as the soldiers took her all night long, one after the other—even all at the same time at one point—but she didn’t feel a thing. Not until the next morning, when she returned to herself. Her whole body was in terrible pain. She was on the cold floor, naked and covered in dried semen, as the sergeants snored next to her in their bunks. Lelia got up slowly, gathering her clothes and carefully putting them back on. Then, she left, wandering the halls with a pronounced limp and a dazed expression on her face until she ran into one of the other soldiers, an Officer. He grimaced at the sight of her, gently taking her elbow and leading her to one of the toilets. He wet a rag and gave it to her, letting her clean the semen off her face—she’d not even realized there was any on it—before bringing her back to Andrew, who was passed out in their bed, an empty flask next to him.

It would not be the last time her husband let the soldiers use her.

*

Lelia sucked in a shuddery breath as she set the empty can down on the tiny, two person table in the kitchenette, shoving the memory away viciously. She immediately grimaced and wrinkled her nose, casting a glance at her new undead… companion. He smelled awful, like rot and decay and death. The beans she’d just eaten almost came right back up, and she covered her mouth and nose, trying to hide her impolite reaction. She’d smelled him before, of course, but now that she actually had something in her stomach, it was all too apparent just how difficult being around him was going to be.

Would she stay around him? And when had he become a him and not an it, anyway?

Probably around the time you realized there was something still left in there of the person he used to be, a voice inside her head responded to her unspoken question. The thought made her sad, and she felt a wave of sympathy for her zombie. She couldn’t imagine what his existence was like, stuck in a body that was falling apart, feared by the only people who could understand him, and unable to talk to them, to tell them he meant no harm…

“What’s your name?” She asked him quietly, almost taking a step forward before she thought better of it. He still smelled, and she still needed her meal to stay down. Getting closer would only tempt fate more than she already was by remaining in the same room as him.

Her zombie looked at her slowly, and though there was no expression on his masked face—she was unsure he could even make one, with his broken jaw and missing lips—she still got the distinct impression that she’d surprised him. She immediately felt bad. He’d saved her life twice now, three times if she counted the food and blanket, and she was just now asking his name. She should’ve done so the moment she realized he was helping her.

Her zombie lifted one arm up to his neck, grasping something and then pulling it up over his head before holding it out to her. A silver chain with a set of dog tags dangled from his gloved fist, and Lelia inhaled deeply through her mouth before walking forward, holding her breath as she accepted them from him. She retreated quickly, trying to suck in air as subtly as she could while she wiped the grime from the dog tags with a corner of the tatty, checkered cloth that was laid across the kitchen table.

“Riley, Simon A.,” she read aloud. Beneath that was his rank information—Lieutenant. She looked up at her zombie, and gave him a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant Riley.”

Her zombie grunted, jerking his head back and forth hard. His jaw quivered from the force of it. Confused, and a little bit afraid, Lelia backtracked.

“I–I’m sorry, do you not want to be called that?” She asked nervously. All the soldiers back on the base, or at least the ones she talked to (meaning the ones her husband lent her to) insisted they be called by their proper rank. Though whenever they used her, they demanded she call them Sir… Lelia swallowed, feeling the beans threaten to come back up for an entirely different reason. She wouldn’t call him Sir. She wouldn't.

Her zombie approached her, seemingly agitated, and Lelia flinched, taking a step back. He stopped, watching her for a moment, but didn't come any closer. He just pointed at his dog tags again, and Lelia looked back down at them, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his name and date of birth. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the year he was born—1981, he was the same age as her mother—but she didn’t let herself get distracted. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, before trying again.

“You want me to call you Simon?” She half guessed, half begged. When he nodded, she let out a relieved sigh, her small smile returning. “Okay… let's try this again, then. It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

[isa-ghost]

Fuck it, Possessed qPhil headcanons

Hi! Welcome to the headcanons that started my fic Awake Me From My Nightmare. You might've heard of it. It's so surreal revisiting these several months later and seeing how they've developed in the story.

It starts out slow. Little quirks that pop up or intensify and sail over his head. They're harmless, or seem justified after all. Like his impulses to steal shiny or neat things activating more often. His aggression towards threats like the Purgatory workers or Feds growing to proportions usually unlike him. It flies under his radar, and under the radar of everyone closest to him. Ender King is methodical and careful with the start of it all, and it works. His influence begins to fester inside Phil more and more over time.

The process of the possession is the worst part. It stings like dragon's breath. Every nerve in his body is on fire, his wings in ten times the agony as they're already so sore. His eyes flash between their usual ocean blue and a fierce, foreign, violent purple. Blink and you'll miss it, but his pupils occasionally thin into draconic slits. The hallucinations get worse, so much worse, and so much more vivid. He loses track of time so easily, hours worth of it. The progression is convincingly sentient, it strikes when he's alone like it KNOWS he's vulnerable and there's no one around to witness the way it tortures him, temporarily immobilizing him as every inch of his body burns and aches like it's soaking in acid. His own tears start to vaguely sting and splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to ground himself is a MISTAKE. Oh god, he's in so, so much pain... And that's what makes him succumb in the end. He can't take the burning of his wings anymore.

He feels.. so.. hollow. So empty inside. Like this deep, inconceivable void has opened up inside him and is devouring every inch of his being until nothing is left. And... it feels so right. It feels so deserved...

No, this is definitely deserved. All that guilt he felt before is gone. That must mean this is him finally being punished for all his failures, right? For being so weak?

He doesn't want help, he's perfectly fine. Why are you looking at him like that? Please, as if you could do anything about this anyway. Don't make him roll his eyes. You couldn't fix this even if he let you. You think you stand a chance against him, The Angel of Death? You'd never win.

His temper is so unstable. He snaps at people he'd never snap at. He yells, he never yells unless it's in jest or at the Feds. He lashes out. He'd NEVER seriously lay a hand on any of the others. He'd never so much as genuinely threaten them. What's come over him? And why won't he answer the others when they ask?

He isolates. He deserves to be alone. Also he can't be bothered with those two needy children, can't a man breathe for a bit? This infection inside him festers more and more, the longer he's away from the things that could tug at his heartstrings or prod at his memory.

So many things have become a blur. Did he say that? Did he do that? When did that happen? What's this "abueli" sign mean? Who's this "Missa" you speak of? What do you mean we're friends? I've never met you in my life. I think I'd remember being friends with a man with a mechanical arm.

The sunlight hurts. It hurts SO much. Keep it off him, keep it away from him, don't bring him outside.

His insides feel like they're withering. He can't eat, it comes right back up. Even bending down or moving certain ways hurts. It's like he's shriveling up and decaying from the inside out. No he doesn't need help.

The longer you watch him, the more obvious it becomes that he's fighting a parasite inside. And it's agonizing to watch. There's nothing you can do, you don't even know what's wrong with him, and he won't tell you. But he can't hide the way he's losing control of himself. It feels like you're watching him die right in front of you. The immortal you've always thought of as both an unstoppable force and unmovable object. Dying.

The moments of clarity are the worst. The way awareness hits him like a brick. He's abandoned Chayanne and Lullah for who knows how long. Has someone taken them under their care in his absence? His friends have seen him in such a pathetic, terrifying, unsavable state. He's mortified. Has he hurt anyone? What destruction has he wrought? Where has he been? How long has it been since he was last in control of himself?

He can't bear looking people in they eyes anymore. Even looking them in the face is a challenge. It borderline disgusts him. It makes him viscerally uncomfortable.

He's terrified to see his reflection. He knows the changes aren't all in his head. They aren't just behavioral.

Something startles him. Suddenly he's on the roof of the nearest building, or in a tree. But... he didn't shoot his grappling squawk. He didn't even have the tool in his hand. Did he just.. teleport?

He doesn't startle again. He is no longer flight, he was never freeze. He is always fight. Even when it's unnecessary, even when it's an ally that surprised him, he swings. He almost immediately comes to his senses every time & quickly moves so he misses. But there's no mistaking that those swings are intended to be precise and lethal.

His vision starts to change, like the way the world looks when you possess an enderman in spectator mode. It's a gamble if his vision is normal or not every time he wakes up.

Eventually he stops sleeping though. And stops talking to Rose. Stops showing up at the Sanctuary. Chayanne & Lullah keep going though. They've been talking to her, desperate to find a way to bring their Papa back into control for good.

He stops eating too. Ender King He doesn't need to. He's slowly becoming a skeleton of himself. How.. ironic, given the Ender King's state last Phil saw it in person.

It's convenient that depriving Phil of sustenance and sleep makes him weak enough to keep controlling with ease. :) It keeps him too weak to resist. :)

Phil always has a shred of awareness of his situation and surroundings even when Ender King has full control. He knows the harm being carried out by his hands. He knows the vile things being said with his tongue. The guilt is so unbearable. He wants it to stop. But he's so weak. And this is his punishment for being weak. He doesn't deserve to break free of this possession until he can do it himself. But the longer he stays under, the weaker he gets...

The longer he's subdued, the more convinced he becomes that this is deserved, escape is futile, all is lost and it's hopeless. But is that him thinking that, or one of the many ways EK is keeping him complacent? Preying upon his insecurities and flaws. Stupid greedy insecure old crow.

The above doesn't mean he isn't going out of his way to make being possessed as difficult as possible though. He's inconveniencing Ender King EVERY step of the way. He didn't want this, and no amount of overthinking his way into believing he deserves this will make him forget that.

When it's finally over, he has nightmares for MONTHS. It wouldn't surprise him if they were chronic. He doesn't tell anyone but Fit, and he doesn't tell him all of them.

It takes a long while after he's been saved for him to remember water no longer hurts him. He avoids it like the plague. Every time he even hears water moving, all he can think about is the way it stings worse than falling in lava.

The social part of recovery after it's all over is the worst. The guilt and shame make him want to hide and never talk to another person again, yet he can't stand being alone. He gets too paranoid.

Other Phil headcanon sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

Set 7 (Eggza Edition)

[victoria-writes]

Love Diagnosis

Pairing: Adrian Monk x Reader

Summary: Monk has a crush on his new assistant (reader) and talks to his therapist about it

Word Count: 1,544

Notes: She/Her pronouns are used for the reader. Trudy Monk, Leland Stottlemeyer, and Natalie Teeger are mentioned but don't make an appearance. Entire fic is just dialogue between Adrian and Dr. Kroger. Mentioned age gap between Monk and the reader.

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

“You don’t understand, doctor. This isn’t some cute crush. I can’t get her out of my head!”, Monk said frantically from the chair he sat in across from his therapist.

“Adrian”, Dr. Kroger began while taking off his glasses and sitting forward in his chair, “it’s perfectly normal to look forward to seeing someone you like. It seems that you and Y/N have developed a special relationship and it’s only natural for you to think of her. If anything, this is great progress. It means you’re moving on after losing Trudy”.

“No, no, no, no”, said Adrian as he waved his hands about, “I am not moving on from Trudy. She is my wife. Y/N is a parasite who has infected my brain. She’s probably an alien. That’s the only explanation. A very pretty alien, but an alien”.

Dr. Kroger smiled, “Y/N is not an alien. It’s okay to be scared. You and Trudy were together for a long time and you were both very devoted to each other”.

“I can’t be scared because I’m not moving on. How can I be scared to do something I’m not doing?”

“Adrian-“

“It’s like she’s taken me hostage in my own mind. Everywhere I look, she’s all I think about. I walked into a CVS with Natalie today to get more wipes and I saw the shampoo section. Why was my first thought ‘What kind of shampoo does Y/N use? She always smells so nice.’?” 

Dr. Kroger sets his glasses on the table next to him, “I’m going to suggest something that may sound a little crazy to you. Have you considered telling her how you feel?”

“…Dr. Kroger”, Monk scoffed, “Are you sure we’re sitting in the right seats? Because where I’m sitting it seems that you may be the one that needs help if you think that is a reasonable solution.”

“So I’m going to take that as a no.”

“Of course, I haven’t talked to her about it!”

“And why is that?”

“….well…”

“Well?”

“…” 

“You’re frightened she may not feel the same way as you do.”

“…yes”

“And if she does feel the same way, you don’t want to know because then you’d have to accept the fact that you’re in love with a woman after Trudy’s passing.”

“yes”, Monk grumbled while looking at the floor with sudden interest.

“So you think it’s better to bury your feelings deep inside and only let them out during our sessions”

“Now you’re getting it. I’m so glad we could come to an understanding”, Monk smiled and sat back in his chair, relieved. 

“Adrian, these feelings aren’t just going to disappear overnight because you don’t want to face them. You see her almost every day now.”

“This is all Natalie’s fault.”, Adrian furrowed his brows as he spoke, “I wouldn’t have had to hire another assistant if she didn’t need so many days off.”

“Natalie needed the time off to take care of her daughter as a single mother. It’s a miracle she was able to balance work and her child for as long as she did.”

“Yeah, well, she should’ve balanced for longer so I wouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Tell me, what is it that you like about Y/N?”

“She smells nice.”

“You mentioned that already”

“She’s a good assistant. She’s very clean and doesn’t touch me without asking. I like her hairstyle too, not just the shampoo. Her nails are neat and manicured, so I don’t feel disgusted by the thought of her touching me.”

“Anything else?”

“When she does touch me…her hands are soft.”

Dr. Kroger looked at Adrian with raised eyebrows and interest written across his face.

“Y/N, she has a certain way of talking. She emphasizes certain words in her sentences and talks with her hands.” 

At this point, Adrian is staring up at the ceiling and smiling fondly as he pictures Y/N in his mind, “She gets so animated when she’s passionate. And she has so many strong opinions on things. Things I never even give a second thought to. Just the other day, she went on a very passionate rant about what kind of handle she prefers on umbrellas.”

“I would’ve thought you’d have an opinion on that sort of thing.” 

“Oh, I do now that I’ve thought about it. I much prefer the curved handles to the straights ones, even if they have grooves for the fingers to sit”, he scoffs and shakes his head, “the fingers are never as comfortable on those as they are on the curved handles and-“

“I think we’re getting off track here. Is there anything you dislike about her?”

“Oh, yes”, Adrian quickly nodded, “She’s a horrible driver and always parks crooked. She’s lucky she has me or she’d anger a lot of other drivers with her parking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She chews on her mints and I can’t stand the sound. What psychopath chews on those? You’re supposed to let them sit in your mouth.”

“I see.”

“She stands too close to me wherever we go. Like I said she doesn’t touch me without asking but she’s always so close.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Yes, my heart starts to beat very fast and I can’t breathe sometimes. Once I thought I was having a heart attack but she told me I was just having a panic attack and made me do breathing exercises with her.”

“Did they help?”

“Yes, but only for a little bit because she kept standing close to me after that. She was worried I would faint so she stood even closer.”

“And?”

“I’ve never had clammier hands in my life.”

“Did you have these symptoms when you first started to see Trudy?”

“I…I don’t remember. It was all so long ago. Let’s not talk about that.”

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Let’s move on from that.”

“Okay.”

“…”

“I had eggs for breakfast this morning but the yolk was a little too runny. That made my skin itch.”

“Let’s not talk about eggs.”

“Okay.”

“If you and Y/N were to enter a romantic relationship-“

“That would never happen.”

“Humor me for a second. If you and Y/N entered a romantic relationship, what do you think it would be like? Truly imagine it for me. What would dating Y/N look like?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m not dating her so how would I know?”

“Just try and imagine it.”

“Okay.”, Adrian sighed quietly as he closed his eyes, “Okay. I’m imagining.”

“Go on.”

“We’d have to spend a lot of time together. That’s what couples do.”

“What would that time spent together look like?”

“I suppose we would hang out at my house. Go to different places around town. Maybe to that coffee shop she likes.”

“Which shop is that?”

“The one on third avenue with the blue walls.”

Adrian’s eyes were still closed but he could hear the smile in Dr. Kroger’s voice, “You remember the kind of things she’s passionate about, little details about her, and even what coffee shop she likes.”

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to remember things about people.”

“Do you know how she takes her coffee?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know how Natalie takes her coffee?”

“No”

“Do you know how Captain Stottlemeyer takes his coffee?”

“No”

“Interesting. Have you ever thought about kissing Y/N?”

Adrian opened his eyes, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“I find it very relevant. Have you thought about kissing her?”

Adrian took a long pause before answering, “Yes. Once she stood very close to me, she stands much too close to me, and I…”

“You…?”

“I was looking at her lips and I started to lean in but I pulled away.”

“Did she know you wanted to kiss her?”

“I don’t think so. When she asked why I was staring I lied and told her she had dry lips and needed to put on chapstick. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. Her lips looked very”, he pauses looking for the right word in his mind “soft.”

“Has she ever indicated any interest in you in a romantic sense?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”, Dr. Kroger sighs, “Adrian, there is only one solution to this dilemma and that is to speak to her about it.”

“That would be highly inappropriate. I’m her employer and several years older than her.”

“While that is true, she has the right to know about this. She spends nearly every day with you.”

“What if she quits? Then, I’d have to find another assistant and I don’t want her to go.”

“That is a risk you’ll just have to take. It is much more likely that she will either tell you she doesn’t feel the same way or that she does. She’s your assistant but she’s your friend too. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

“But what is she does?”

Monk sat in silence with no rebuttal prepared. What could he possibly say to that?

“We’re nearing the end of our time together, Adrian. Next time you see Y/N, politely tell her how you’ve been feeling about her.” 

“...”

“Adrian, tell her.”

“Yes, Dr. Kroger.”

“I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

[astroenchanter]

Alright so, my little game design major ass keeps getting dark premonitions of what might happen in the bachelor route. And instead of desperately trying to explain to my friend who does not play, I figure I might as well elaborate here. First off this one is just a neat horror mechanic I hope they bring back and flesh out. One of my favorite things in the OG bachelor route that I haven't seen done in other games before, but to me was supper effective was the way they had you trapped in horrifying dialogue implying things where happening to you and Daniil's responses also implying what was going on around him, to an unsettling degree. Like on day 2 when you're talking to that infected woman and she goes "I'd scream, but I don't want the children to hear..." and "I keep hearing children's voices... The girls are crying, and the boy is laughing... We mustn't scare them... Don't tell them and don't let them in here..." And when talking about her sisters: "Just... Don't kill us-don't kill them if they ask you for help... Their mind is clouded with pain... They can't even find each other... They're only praying... Don't come close to them... And step away from me too." And Daniil Has to Either tell her she's delusional or when referring to her sisters goes " Make them stop following me then! Why are they constantly at my heels? They are supposed to be lying down!" Or in the conversation with Peter on day 10 where you're having a conversation unsettlingly close to a fire and you're trying to talk Peter down from incinerating himself and get the Polyhedron blueprints, and Daniil can just keep going " Peter, this heat is intolerable. How can you stand it?" and getting ignored so that Peter can go off talking about the Polyhedron. I think that with more time if they decided to keep that element in the new bachelor route they could do that in an even more effective way, time stops during dialogue and wont start until you end it. They could use sound design or fuck with the dark backgrounds in dialogues to make you even more worried about what they're saying. Like imagine the mechanic build up of time stopping in dialogues, you're used to the format from the haruspex route, and then after a while the sound effects and visuals are making you think something is different and you read the dialogue and shit is progressively getting more and more fucked up and you can only respond with more horrifying descriptions. It could trap you in that same kind of suspense as watching a horror movie or reading a short story where you aren't able to directly impact things, but you still have input in the dialogue and have to participate, IMAGINE THE TENSION.

All I'm saying is if IPL don't use that idea, I'm stealing it if I ever get around to making a horror game after my current project.

[ravewing]

Could you talk about your infection au? I'm invested in it and I've been thinking about it all day

YES HULLO !! i dont want to spoil anything too much and im also working on a field guide sort of thing for the different stages of infection so im gonna try not to talk about those rite neow BUT im so glad that people r enjoying it! so id been seeing these scary mlp infection things ALLL over my tik tok feed for weeks and i was like .. yanno .. itd be really silly if i made this wof .. so i spent like 3 days mulling over what i could make the infection actually BE and i almost made it like the icewing plague but like it went scary but i didnt really know how to keep going with that so then i came up with a super smart idea which turned into this😋i dont wanna say where it started yet cuz ermm lore stuff but i will say that liek in the story the infection doesnt officially have a name yet so everyones just calling it like. the sickness at jade mountain. most of the infected originated IN jade mountain with the first symptoms being noticed in moon and turtle respectively, and then with the icewing students. i cant tell you guys how they got sick bc again . lore ..... but i think that its like kinda possible to find out. but i dunno. vulture and fierceteeth are also sick. there is ONE singular factor that unites these 4 + icewings, which miight b the reason WHY they got sick.kinkajou technically SHOULD be sick but she isnt for another reason that i cant say but if you really look into wof lore then i think u can figure it out idk. the infections transmitted via saliva/blood transmission, so mainly bites. tail barbs of infected sandwings are capable of spreading the sickness. there are 4 stages (5 if you count death) and it takes around 3 to 3.5 weeks for all stages to finish,, by ep3 the sickness has been around for ~2.5 weeks. the only KNOWN cure is amputation of wherever the infected area is,, so MUCH easier in early stages, unfortunate if its on an inconvenient spot, and impossible after hives start spreading. obvi flame had to be important bc i heart flame and i was like .. wait .. hes a healer in canon ...... so that worked out perfectly !! ik that in canon liana is like one of glorys MANY bodyguards but idc shes a healer here bc ermm i said so . also liana and mango r dating but i dont think that its relevant to the plot theyre just girlfriends in my head . as of right now kinkajou and peril are the only known immune dragons, with kinkajou for reasons currently unknown and peril bc . yknow . shes on fire . glory is in close contact with ruby and both kingdoms have taken measures to notify their kingdoms; the rainforest is under a sort of lockdown with rainwings on constant patrol/lookout for outsiders entering, they accept anyone who isnt infected to stay there for refuge while the skywing kingdom is in basically total lockdown other than ruby's messengers. ruby and glory also exchange their respective kingdoms medical knowledge, with the skywings having very good technology and rainwings having an expansive knowledge on medical herbs. nobody has heard from coral- the last thing she did was call for anemone's return back to the kingdom, and once she arrived, they all went underwater and have since then cut all outside contact. the mudwings are aware of the sickness but have so far done nothing about it; moorhen has warned her subjects but thats really it. i havent really decided what the sandwings or the icewings are up to but let me tell you guys its looking really rough for the icewings . so far it looks as though royal icewings are more resilient- tundras currently sick, but the sickness seems to be progressing much slower. this was initially believed to be because of the cold, but then other icewings started getting sick, and so its believed to just be a royal thing- likely something in their genetics. icicle is also sick but shes in stage 4 .. pray for my girl guys. lynx is helping snowfall out the best she can, but with the population getting increasingly sick seemingly spontaneously, its extremely difficult and stressful. the talons have quarantined sanctuary too. ok im outta characters but ya ty 4 the support!!

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

What role in a fantasy novel think the ATZ boys would fit into❕️

Ateez (ot8) x no one In particular.

(This is based loosely off the boys real personalities or actions. But It is fictionalin other aspects)🎤

-

Yeosang as...the chosen one.

-

He would be the one that the characters want to stick by because they know he can protect them. It's likely that yeosang as a character would live away from the public for privacy. In a forest on the outskirts where he can reside away from fans and the kingdom it's self. His story is that he hates being adored despite the fact that his friends constantly tell him how much of a skilled warrior he is. Although He doesn't want any of the fame, he does not hesitate to fight at any moment. His character likely starts off as the good guy and slowly progresses into a villain after a climactic event and would ultimately have a dramatic, disturbing death.

--

Seonghwa as...the crown prince.

-

Seonghwa is very princely in real life, so I feel this fits. He is the beloved and slightly cocky crown prince harbouring a dark secret that he sets out to fulfil. Seonghwa obviously lives in the palace in the centre of the kingdom. However, he would have a secret house high above the kingdom on the cliffs. His story is that he is actually immortal and refuses to marry much to the dismay of the village men and women. His character's story ends when he finally ages after his blood becomes infected with an ancient disease. He would die from incredibly old age.

---

Hongjoong as...the captain of the royal guard.

-

Hongjoong is a leader through and through. He is a well-respected and highly valued soldier. He would be the one that you always find at Seonghwa's side. He takes pride in protecting his prince at no cost. His story likely falls into the category of forbidden love but also tragic death. He ultimately is the one who becomes intertwined with an enemy and is betrayed, ending his story with a climactic death.

---

Mingi as...the rebel leader

-

He is the most powerful enemy of the nation to which seonghwa will rule. He would be the one everybody thinks will crumble easily, but he proves to be stronger than he looks and turns his story around by murdering the captain of the royal guard. His story is that he once worked as a soldier for the royal guard, but his ego got the best of him, and he was exiled, replacing him with hongjoong. He would try to reconcile with the crown prince but would ultimately be rejected. He ends with becoming the king of rebels, being more powerful than ever after ravaging the kingdom and taking back his title.

-

Wooyoung as...the court assassin.

-

He's sneaky. And fast. Wooyoung likely works closely with the prince, who sends him off to do missions in neighbouring kingdoms and often smaller towns. He would be the one that ends up being the only one left alive in the palace after losing his guard and his crown prince. His character would have the ability to control shadows for easier and stealthy kills when targets are out of range. His story would ultimately be the one to end the novel for good.

---

Yunho as...the comedy relief.

-

While his character would have a pretty powerful role. His main thing is that he brings joy and light to the story. He would be the one that people turn to in times of need for a laugh or the one that hosts parties to help his friends relax. Yunho's kindness would become his undoing after he is kidnapped and tortured for information about the prince, which he ultimately does not give and dies at the hands of a few rebels, angering the rebel captain, causing him to set them on fire at the stake.

---

San as...the fortune teller

-

He is something like a tarot reader. His story would be to exist purely to bring bad news, which turns out to be a curse placed upon him. His character is in a tight-knit friendship with the prince, which allows him to be at use to bring reports of what he is seeing of the future. His story is that he can never tell a lie, which gets him killed at the hands of the king himself after San admits he has fallen in love with the prince. He is hung for his actions, which starts seonghwas revenge arc.

--

Jongho as...the local tailor.

--

His character owns a smaller tailor in the town square. He sells his suits and sometimes dresses to the crown prince and made the coronation outfit of Her Majesty. He is often caught in background scenes where he sows and eavesdrops on conversations, making him the towns biggest gossip. Jongho used to be childhood friends with mingi, but after the death of his mother, mingi grew distant, and after years, all contact was lost. His story comes to an end with him coming back after the war, finding only wooyoung alive.

---

My god this took so long😭😭

[rallamajoop]

Eveline, the Connections, and the buried D-series lore

A surprising number of unused text files can be found by datamining the RE7 game file (I found next to nothing in RE8, for comparison). Many look to come from an earlier version of Mia's sequence on the tanker, which I may get to posting about those later ‒ but by far the most fascinating are a series of three files about the the E-series project, adding names and a whole tragic backstory to a couple of humble key items that are still in the game: the D-series arm and head.

These three documents were presumably earlier drafts of those you can still find in the final lab, though they contain a number of details missing from the final game. I'll share all three below, but we'll start with the second, because it's by far the most interesting.

Biological Weapons Development 2 We've decided that the biological weapon should look like a young girl. That way it will be easy to slip it into groups of, for example, refugees. In early ■■■■, 1999, Dr. Olivia ■■■'s team infected a human embryo with ■■ from ■■■■, creating four prototypes. These were named, Dana, Dahlia, Darlene, and Dorothy. The D-Series was able to control the thoughts of others by making them ingest a mold-like secretion. The initial symptoms caused by this secretion are visual and auditory hallucinations, and ■■■■. The secretion also erodes the target's cerebral ■■■. As the infection progresses, the target develops strong feelings of friendship towards the girls, and actively seeks to serve them. It is also possible for the secretion to fuse with the target's somatic cells, causing mutations in the body's physical structure. D-001 Dana Deceased (■■■■) D-002 Dahlia Deceased (Decrepit at 319 days) D-003 Darlene Deceased (Infection) D-004 Dorothy Disposed of due to poor performance D-005 Dolores Suicide D-006 Diana Killed by D-005 D-007 Daniella Killed by D-005 D-008 Doris Deceased (■■■■■■) E-001 Eveline Stable [Progress under observation]

(Excuse the slightly-wonky table at the bottom ‒ it's the best I could easily do for tumblr.)

There's a real SCP vibe to all those clinical details and tantalising redactions ‒ far more is redacted in these early versions than in any file that made it into the game. What really killed Dana and Doris? We don't know, but the idea of causes worse than what's reported for other subjects is nasty stuff.

The most striking implication in this list is the story of poor Dolores, who killed two of her sisters (Dolores and Diana, D-006 and 7) before killing herself. We don't know why or how it happened, but Dolores was D-005, which is a number you might have seen before:

Well, shit. That poor damn thing.

The D-series arm belonged D-002 ‒ Dahlia, who was apparently 'decrepit after 319 days', so very likely affected by the same rapid aging as Eveline.

You find the arm attached to a horrifying corpse-doll-thing, the arm itself allegedly gifted to Marguerite by Eveline soon after her arrival. And speaking of this particular asset, the fact this arm seems to have tried to grow a whole new head even after being severed is a wonderfully creepy bit of detail.

I didn't find it strange that both components would have been on the ship with Eveline ‒ they're required components for making anti-infection serum, which might well be needed in transit or at their destination, and perhaps those components have a longer shelf-life than the serum itself. But the third document in the series tells us there was rather more to the fact that Eveline herself had that arm in her possession.

Biological Weapons Development 3 Eveline (E-001) has displayed remarkable results in performance tests against mice, ■■■■, monkeys, and humans. Finally, we have a biological weapon we can use. Unfortunately, her metabolic functions are lacking, meaning she still requires doses of ■■■■■. If ■■■■■ is not administered, the somatic cells age rapidly, and in a worst-case scenario ■■■■ may also occur. An attendant will be required to administer regular doses of ■■■■■ to Eveline. Having observed Eveline (E-001), we have noticed several interesting points: ・ Eveline has a tendency to regard the targets she gains control of as "family." It seems that gaining control of humans has a special meaning for her. ・ She treats part of ■■■■■■'s (D-0■■) corpse as a treasured possession. Perhaps she regards it as a memento mori from one of her sisters? ・ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. Perhaps ■■■■■■■■■■. Those infected with D-Series secretions can be treated with a special serum. The serum can be synthesized by ■■■■■■■■ing D-Series somatic cell tissue. In case of accidental infection, administer the serum as quickly as possible. Be aware, however, that the serum is only effective against mild infections. Administering the serum to those with severe infections can result in the infected cells coagulating and ■■■■, and may even result in death. Be sure to administer the serum at the appropriate time.

So apparently Eveline was in the habit of carting poor Dahlia's severed arm around with her, as some kind of twisted memento. Dahlia most likely died long before Eveline's creation, which does not make that detail less creepy.

Though it's much less interesting than the latter two, here's the first file in the series too:

Biological Weapons Development 1 This program started in 1997 with financial backing from ■ ■ ■ ■. The aim was to create a biological weapon that could take control of enemy groups without having to engage them in combat. This gives the program an advantage that differentiates it from previous biological weapon developments: it lets us turn our enemies into allies. Soon, those who once opposed us will voluntarily become our friends, serving us as required. With this program we can increase our allies while avoiding the costs associated with military engagements and having to deal with prisoners of war… The governments of ■ ■ ■ ■ and ■ ■ ■ may also be interested in this new program too.

Still no detail in any of these to explain why the two arms so very clearly attached to the D-series ""head"" were apparently not fit for purpose, but eventually you've got to just shrug and go with this stuff.

All these files are not so much "cut" content as older drafts that were accidentally left in the game, and they contradict the versions that did make it in in a few places ‒ for example, the draft version puts the project's beginnings in 1997, whereas the final version moves that date forward to 2000. But it's a real shame all that detail on the D-series was cut, because it adds so much context to elements that did make it into the finished game. The game still works without them, but I'd venture the whole picture is that little bit richer for knowing about them.

[fungh0u1]

hi im so interested in your ocs btw, if you ever needed encouragement to post about them then here's some from me !! but no pressure obv

I WOULD LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM! I am so flattered that you're interested ^.^. I made you an illustrated compendium.

Mutagenesis Drive is a zombie apocalypse story centered around the relationship between Joan and Marnie, two college age girls who have been friends for a long time.

THE CHARACTERS:

JOAN (our perspective character) has always considered herself "emotionless". She struggles to understand her own feelings, preferences and sensations and has been going through her life before the apocalypse without caring about or wanting anything... as far as she can tell. She's very analytical and intuitive when it comes to survival, and finds herself the brain of her and Marnie's little caravan, despite not having much of a preference if they live or die (right?).

MARNIE is Joan's best (and only, really) friend. She's stoic, like Joan, but unlike Joan it's out of just a socially inept demeanor instead of some internal issue. She is freakishly obsessed with Joan and would do anything to keep Joan from leaving her behind. She doesn't express that at all outwardly, though, because she is prone to defeatism and feels that Joan could never return her feelings and that it would be best to not complicate their relationship by acting needy or affected. Their friendship is actually pretty surface level as neither of them really know how to relate to other people. Marnie is happy to leave her dysfunctional family home when the apocalypse starts so she can spend all of her time with Joan.

THE PARASITE:

The zombies (zombies-ish, demons) in MGD are highly mutated creatures with different specialized forms resembling different types of animals. The world is very sparsely populated with surviving humans as these demons are very effective hunters. (a/n Skip on to "Joan and Marnie's Developing Relationship/Story Summary" if you don't give a fuck about this, I really don;t mind.)

Stage 1: The host is infected via blood to blood or saliva to blood contamination. Thousands of larva attack the host's immune system. There is an average 85% chance that the immune system will be overloaded and allow the parasite to progress. Symptoms begin ≈ 6 hours after initial infection. Fatigue. Fever.

Stage 2: The parasite implants in the host's frontal lobe and begins to spread its tendrils throughout the brain. The parasite can be removed surgically, but surgery is less viable the further it's progressed. Stage 2 is entered within 1-6 days. Confusion. Fatigue. Vertigo. Loss of motor control. Loss of higher thinking.

Stage 3: The host becomes aggressive, losing the ability to communicate. The host will instinctively begin to eat anything with nutritional value. The cells of the digestive system begin to be affected, causing the host's metabolism to increase and become more efficient. Within 8-12 days after the start of stage 2.

Stage 4: The structure of the host's body begins to mutate. Depending on the strain of parasite, it will begin to resemble different forms, some being adapted to swimming, flying, running, etc. After spending time hoarding and ingesting huge amounts of food and briefly hibernating, it retains its incredibly fast metabolism and begins to hunt, needing a lot of food to survive. Since it can reproduce by infecting others, it tries to infect any suitable hosts and return them to its nest until the parasitization reaches stage 4.

(^ Joan and Marnie fight a Harpy.)

JOAN AND MARNIE'S DEVELOPING RELATIONSHIP/STORY SUMMARY:

Joan and Marnie travel together in Marnie's van (Joan does not know how to drive). Joan is the "brains" of the operation, directing Marnie and herself as a tight unit to scavenge supplies. There's little room for error if they want to survive. Marnie is terrified of being left behind by Joan, knowing that she wouldn't be able to survive on her own but more than that just wanting to be around Joan (and to be her little dog).

Marnie often falls into maladaptive fantasies about Joan, though she's unable to convey her feelings in real life Marnie imagines Joan being a better person and having normal emotions. She has conflicting perceptions of Joan both as herself and as who Marnie wants her to be. However, these perceptions shift as time goes on.

Marnie grows increasingly resentful of Joan for making her do things she thinks are wrong. Marnie is wracked with guilt over these actions while Joan seems completely unaffected. It culminates with Joan telling Marnie to do something that will almost definitely cause the deaths of another group of survivors. Marnie does it but resolves to break things off with Joan. They come across a bustling research hospital that is willing to take them in. Their relationship is tense. They are quarantined together, then separately. Joan hasn't seen Marnie in days.

Joan is let out but finds that Marnie had tested positive for the parasite and is being treated. Through some series of events Joan realizes that Marnie, and many patients in the hospital, had been injected with the parasite to study its progression and treatment (Joan was overlooked because of her bad health).

Joan realizes that she wants to survive with Marnie and breaks them both out of the hospital, shooting and stabbing a good number of people to death. Upon leaving the building, the two of them see that the world outside of the hospital has been overrun by sprawling, terrifying, fleshy structures. It seems like their chances of survival are even worse than when they first entered the hospital. Still, they have each other. They find a vehicle and drive off into the sunset with hopeful dreams of the future.

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

MGD is not, like, totally fleshed out in my mind but this is my best estimation of how I want it to be. I originally conceptualized it as a comic, I would love it as a point-and-click adventure... or maybe a visual novel or an rpg... but I'm not fully sure what medium I'd want it to be in... I don't know! I would like to do something with it eventually and flesh it out more. What I wrote here may be a little contradictory or disorganized.

Well, I tried to give the best overview I could concisely but I maybe wrote a little too much!! I hope it's what you wanted, June, seriously THANKSS for asking me about them. Clearly I love to talk. Please feel free to make any comments about it or ask any followup questions anyone out there I do love to hear it.

[witchofthesouls]

So, uh, this little memory just suddenly popped up out of no where and I figured it would serve as good(?) ‘world-building’ material.

So, when I was in my private all-girls Catholic high school (that’s how you know it’s going to be a good story) girls would soak their tampons with vodka to get drunk. Some where more successful than others, but some where also less fortunate when their near fatal encounter of alcohol poisoning and nasty-ass vaginal infections where known throughout school.

My question is; do cybertronians have a similar method of madness like the vodka tampons?

And my second question; did Cybertronian’s have their own version of an all girls catholic school? And if they do, what kind of crazy shit went on there?

I can tell you so much about the crazy shit that went on there; the illegal gambling ring, the bi-curious and lesbi-curious girls who were convinced that they liked/loved another girl and stalked the poor girl, some of the shady male teachers, the secret LGBTQ+ club (which was actually kind of wholesome and I was apart of), the bullying (sweet Jesus was there a lot of bullying and harassment), some nuns were Grade A+ assholes who would wack our hands with rulers and have affairs with some of the male teachers, and there’s was a…uh,…secret orgy/cunnilingus club too.

It was the nineties, what would you expect?

Oh wow. I heard of things in private, religious schools from a friend, but hot damn that's wild!

I did go to a religious university. They had a weekly chapel where classes were suspended and all students were required to attend. I did start a tiny alcohol ring in the dorms. Nothing nefarious or crazy binging, just enough in plastic bottles to use in cooking or sipping for a secret meat meal in the rooms. I came from a time when weed was still illegal, but damn I never thought it would prepare me for smuggling meats into a strictly vegetarian campus.

So going back to the questions:

Cybertronians do have alcoholic goodies for popular sex play. Unlike humans, their reproductive system is a closed loop circulatory-wise, and they don't need to worry about poisoning themselves. But for an experience similar to humans doing stupid things for that drunk-high is the equivalent of a wine enema into their afts. That's because their "asshole" is actually a medical port that has components connected to their pelvis structures; meaning, they can get off really well with that alcoholic enema. Yeah, you don't need to be an expert in alien biology to understand that pouring drugs into a hole that's connected to your nervous system can be a stupid bad idea.

Get ready for a lot of worldbuilding:

Education on Cybertronian is severely restricted to caste due to edicts based on Functionism where frame dictates function in society. Some city-states like Vos and Tarn get away with public schooling by citing it as a necessity component of their citizenship and to the benefit of Cybertron as a whole. Vos stylizes their system as a military academy since Seekers are typically slotted into such hierarchies and citizens are drafted into the Air Force during wartime; whereas Tarn is famous for its factories and mines. Sparkling armature is too fragile for the unstable environment, so keeps the workforce much more docile that the bits too big for the holds are kept away and provides leverage as a union-busting technique. Accidents happen.

There are the old traditions of apprenticeships and mentorships for mecha that catch the attention of a well-established professional. Each decade, the number dwindles as more fees are added such practices, such as "alt-mode exemption for education" and "Form Ed-98A-3432d: Exemption to mentor a student two castes below."

Higher education typically functions as private entities with very high-stakes testing. If a student fails to pass progress exams to move to the next module, then it's game over. There's no retakes or repeats or any sort of second chance. They're permanently expelled from completing education within the city-state.

Because of this, coercion is a common phenomenon, especially to snap up specific connections or talented individuals under the school's domains or their related patrons. Skill was the means of trade among the faculty and students as well as the ability to cultivate it. Money could be both everything and nothing within these facilities; it was as meaningful as the parties in agreement made it. This was a strange world compared to what was outside the walls as it blended all the castes and frames and cultures and reduced it to what a person could bring to a table via their own hands or their future. Make no mistake, it wasn't a utopia. It was a cutthroat arena with deep tensions that were mitigated by the faculty and student council as they all battle to polish diamonds from the rough, force people into cohorts, and seal alliances. If done right, a low-caste sponsered can be taken care of for the rest of their lives or die back on the streets with nothing.

Ratchet managed to get away with his old clinic doing illegal free services by utilizing this strange culture. The relationships he cultivated with his old mentor's ties into their own university as well as Ratchet’s own ties via teaching will cover his tracks and provide some funding as long as he takes in "chosen" medical apprentices to train in such conditions and documents the long-term effects of poverty at those sunless levels. Ratchet was only able to trace a few of his benefactors in his project, Senator Shockwave and Counciler Alpha Trion.

Because it was a different world with so much on and off the books, the really secretive clubs would be the "heretics" with worship to certain Primes, Titans, or Unicron, sex clubs that cater to xeno-related kinks, and those with dysmorphic frames, either by force or assigned (cold construction, lab-grown sentio metallico, or noncon frame overhaul), trying to find themselves without anything set on legal paperwork.

(Knockout took advantage of that.)

[distort-opia]

I keep going back to Bruce's mindset in Joker War, and especially what he took away from it, because... it's fascinating how impersonal and yet helplessly personal he is, regarding Joker.

It's obvious to me Tynion has worked with Snyder, especially on works involving Batman & Joker, because Bruce barely sees Joker as a human being. It starts with the way Bruce talks about Joker when fighting the fake Designer:

-- Batman (2016) #93

Bruce equates Joker to the abyss. In a move that surprises no one, he asserts once again that others don't understand Joker-- he isn't a common serial killer, he isn't insane, he's something else.

The theme continues as the plot progresses:

-- Batman (2016) #95

I don't really like that Tynion used a flashback to Bruce and Joker's first interaction in The Man Who Laughs to establish that Joker was this incomprehensible force of evil, even then. It's an inaccurate reading of the comic, and it oversimplifies Joker. There's a lot to be said about how this approach to Joker as less of a person and just a cardboard cut-out of Pure Evil is boring, one-dimensional and has unfortunately infected a lot of people working with the character over at DC, but alas-- not trying to go into the Doylist side of things in this post.

However, the flashback mentioned is meant to tie in to Bruce's hallucination of Alfred later on, the one that gives him the strength and motivation to keep fighting:

-- Batman (2016) #98

Alfred is a figment of Bruce's mind, hence... it's Bruce who puts Joker and death on the same level. Joker is a kind of inevitable force of destruction, something he can't hate. You cannot hate a hurricane, you cannot hate an earthquake. You cannot hate death or an abyss that consumes, because that's simply its nature. What it does.

...And yet. Despite how seemingly impersonal his way of seeing Joker is, there's still a part of Bruce trying to understand, trying to make sense of Joker. There's a little story in Detective Comics detailing Bruce's thoughts during Joker War, in which we see Bruce pondering the following:

-- Detective Comics (2016) #1027 -- The Gift

"Is that the lesson?" It's reminiscent of the questions Bruce addressed Joker through the listening device planted on the corpse in Batman (2016) #93: "Why attack me like this? What are you trying to prove?".

But it's more than an inner conflict. After the conclusion of Joker War, after Bruce walks away (while knowing Joker had the tools to disarm the bomb and would not die), Bruce tells Selina his true thoughts. God bless her heart for pushing his emotionally constipated ass:

-- Batman (2016) #101

Bruce thought of everything Joker did in terms of a lesson. He's thought of Joker's actions as that for a long time now, and there's a painful paradox to it; the points Joker makes about Batman always hurt Gotham and the people around Bruce, but part of him still listens. Part of him still tries to make sense of what Joker is saying and learn. And at the end of the day, even after all the death and destruction Gotham went through as a price... he thought that Joker was right.

He even proceeds to put those lessons into practice. He moves to a townhouse in Gotham, he tries to be closer to the city and belong to it, not be apart from it. Start over, change. And yet, in his new base of operations, we get this:

-- Batman (2016) #106

Out of everything in the original Cave, all the trophies and the reminders, Bruce brought the Joker card with him. There's no other personal element in there, nothing else meant to be decorative or more than just practical. Nothing else but the card on the floor. It's especially interesting when you take into account that Fear State, the major arc that follows Joker War and Ghostmaker's introduction, is about all the ways in which a traumatic past defines or breaks people.

And yet Bruce carries this piece of the past with him. It'll never cease to fascinate me, how much Bruce intellectualizes and dehumanizes Joker, so he can avoid his personhood and the true parameters of their relationship... all while asserting to himself and to others how he's the only one Joker sees as alive in a cold dead world, how he's the only one who matters to Joker. How he's the only one who understands how Joker works, how he's the only one who can stop him.

(Don't even get me started on Miracle Molly being Joker-coded, or Khoa as a psychopathic individual on the side of good Bruce forgives murder for, because hoo boy. Actually I might make a separate post about Fear State, and then another about Ghostmaker... goddammit, brain.)

[madychi]

Okay, I’m sorry but I’m very confused because you ret conned a lot of stuff, what is the story at this point?

Alright- no worries, I’ll clarify the whole story (up to the latest part) here.

Eggman attempted to create his own chaos emeralds. But something went wrong. They came out botched, emitting a hazardous mixture of Chaos energy and radiation. Eggman decided to just contain them and lock up the lair they were made in. He completely forgot about them.

Fast forward to sometime after the Metal Virus, Sonic ends up stumbling across this locked down base and busts in to take a look around. He comes across these Botched Emeralds and, not knowing why their so heavily contained, busts them out of containment with the intent to figure out why Eggman is making fake emeralds.

He takes six of the seven botched emeralds. He missed the seventh one. The emeralds react to Sonic taking them. Similar to how chaos emeralds would kinda absorb into Sonic when he goes super, the botched emeralds do something similar. Absorbing into Sonic.

Sonic definitely finds it weird, but nothing seems to happen, so he assumes it was a dud. No harm no foul. He leaves the base, which is no long securely containing the chaos radiation, allowing it to start seeping out.

A few days later Sonic’s noticeably unwell. He knows somethings wrong, he’s got weird sores all over his body, and his face feels numb. So he goes to the one fox he can trust to help out. Tails. This leads to the start of the comic.

Tails is immune to the Chaos Radiation. But he isn’t immune to the actual radiation. The symptoms are similar initially but while infected completely loose their sense of self, becoming mindless and instictual monsters, Tails does not. He keeps his sense of self.

Sonic can tell somethings up with Tails. Ever since he’s come to him Tails hasn’t been well. But Tails is intent on figuring this whole thing out. Sonic is with Tails for two weeks, in which no progress is really made. By the end of the second week, Sonic’s hunger has started to become unbearable for him. He’s tried eating anything he can. But it’s not enough. He even gives in a little and eats a flicky. It’s not enough.

He goes to try and tell Tails that he’s really hungry, but when he gets to him, something kinda snaps in him for a moment. His mind and thoughts are over taken by a deafening static, and all he can think about is his hunger. All he can understand is this urge to consume. He approaches Tails, coming to close for comfort to eating Tails. But he stops.

He notices the face mask Tails had been making for him, and it slowly draws him out of his frenzy. He doesn’t want to think about what he almost did. He’d never hurt Tails- no- of course not.

Tails wakes up from his nap at his work desk to see Sonic had found the prosthetic face he’d made him and was trying it on. He explains how it works, and Sonic brightens up a bit. He feels normal for the first time since this whole thing started. He can’t help but give Tails a headpat. The first physical contact they’ve had since Sonic’s sickness started. If Tails weren’t already doomed, this would’ve sealed his fate for sure.

It’s like being touched by pure polonium at this point. Tails’s eye starts to slip on out, as a reaction to his radiation poisoning. Understandably, he screams at this.

This is when Shadow enters the picture. He joined Restoration HQ to the little town(?) Tails lives in. With Sonic unknowingly around, folk have started to fall ill with weird symptoms. When people started getting symptoms, Tangle had gone out to check things out. She ended up getting too close to ground zero (the Eggman base) and getting infected. By the time she was found, she was already stage 2.

Shadow is here to get Tails and also try and get answers. Surely he’d know something. At least where Sonic is or might be since they haven’t been able to contact him at all. As Shadow’s about to knock on the door, he can hear Tails scream from inside. He bursts through the door, only to met with an eerie silence.

He walks through the house, looking for any sign of the fox, when he hears something. He goes into the very dark workshop, and sees Tails’s Miles Electric on the ground, active, and playing an audio. From this audio recording, Shadow realizes that yes, Tails does know what’s going on. And whatever it is, Sonic’s involved… maybe even the cause.

He doesn’t get to dwell on this long as he gets tag teamed by Sonic and Tails. He does fight back, using a chaos blast at one point. But ultimately, Sonic takes him down. With Shadow seemingly dead, Sonic quickly covers up as much as possibly to try and seem “normal”.

He convinces Amy that the two of them are just roughed up from an encounter with some “sick” person. And when she asks about Shadow, Tails claims Shadow said he had to take care of something and just ran off. Any believes them, and gets them back to HQ with the rest of the people who are able to be treated.

Amy is… worried. She can tell somethings off with Sonic. He’s not exactly able to hide his changing appearance well. But he helps out and takes care of Cream. That and he refuses to have tests done on him. She can’t force him. And she won’t force him to leave if he’s not causing trouble.

Then there’s Tails, who did agree to testing. The results were… not good. She had to break the news to him that he’s suffering from a very severe form of Radiation poisoning. That it’s a miracle he’s even alive. But that’s not the only bad news she has to deliver him. Amy also has to tell Tails that this radiation has cause a tumor to form in his brain. Since she’s told him this, he’s been quiet, and withdrawn in his quarantine cell. He only eats if Sonic brings the food. Or if they force him to eat.

The two have been with Restoration HQ for about a week now. And things have settled into a nice routine. The outbreak is classified and kept from public knowledge right now as to not cause a panic.

Sonic’s hunger is at its limit. He’s tried everything to quell it but nothing works. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. But when he sees a hedgehog all alone and heading to bed for the night, he can’t help himself. He silently follows, removing his prosthetic face and cloak outside of the hedgehogs room. After a brief internal battle, he sneaks inside the room.

The hedgehog notices him though. He’d hoped he wouldn’t. But he does. There isn’t much of a struggle. Sonic makes sure of it. Still, he can’t help but feel bad for this guy. This wasn’t really anything personal. He was just unlucky. In the wrong place at the wrong time. So Sonic tries to give the kid some comfort in his final moments by holding his hand as he goes in to finish his meal.

And that’s everything. At least everything up to the current point in the comic. After each part, I’ll likely come here and add onto this post!

[diabolic-wave]

You said you have Parallel Canon ramblings that couldn't fit in the tags. Ramble away, fellow human.

Also, let me know if you find that post you mentioned being reminded of.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS yeah it was a more generalized thing (i saw it cropped and had to go find the image + search the exact phrasing but it's since been reblogged) the sentiment of being the 'evil' clone is up for debate i suppose. perhaps in a literal sense - yknow, antivirus that's been infected with malware; a copy and paste of code that was supposed to be 4 tweaked and repurposed into hostility. but it feels a little wrong to call them evil anyway. (there's also definitely a horror in that it's still your "friend" even while it's "evil" they jump to you they tell you they will they cry out when you kill them and you can hear it and isn't that just awful? they're all still someone that was supposed to be on your side. it's not just the voice clip it's not just a super jump indicator it's an 'ouch' ping it's a 'hey i am super jumping to you, my teammate, specifically' audio cue. this was supposed to be your friend.) and what if it still was! what if you ran with the same sort of angst as if it was genuinely 4 at first? what if eight saw that, remembered sanitized agent 3, and knocked/tore the mask off to save them and it worked? what's it like for everyone then? we know pearl is filling the role she's intended to be, so in that same sense people use that to bring 4 in you could use it to make a dawning horror sort of story. the slow realization that it's not. you could well have it still more directly attached to 4 through the palette too - i think this works well for most things and not just this specifically, like i do think it can play a pretty significant part in pcanon feeling so strongly that it is agent 4 even if it's not quite identical or doesn't remember everything or whatever - but ultimately it never really was. and so what then? for parallel and for everyone else? would it be cruel to acknowledge it? i would think it'd be a little uncomfortable for everyone involved no matter what. in contrast to never being treated like 4 in the first place, instead it is but only for a little bit. and then suddenly everyone starts getting a little... distant. uneasy. even if they never actually say anything about it there's still that nasty anxious feeling when it seems like everyone else knows something you don't and especially if you can tell it's something about you.

i also often find myself especially fascinated with what they are just in general tbh. that one i could touch on in the tags at least though. yknow, series of progressively more distorted photocopies. the first is almost pristine, just a little off from the book itself thanks to things like the weird seam copies get from the way the pages crease at the spine. and then when easy access to the book is lost and the copies start being copies of other copies it gets further and further away. burns. fading. other weird random marks. if the intro is anything to go by, they've all got their quirks. a hall of mirrors reflecting the reflection of the same person. ants that've gotten themselves confused, following each other's trail ever onward and onward into the death spiral because they don't know how to do anything but follow orders and march together. they're not quite like ants in that they're individuals, sure. with their own egos. but they're all still made from the same copy and pasted code, recopied, repasted, corrupted further by the virus hijacking them. and they all still act in harmony to do what they were supposed to do from the beginning. follow the directive, follow the pheromones, even if you've been trapped in a path you weren't supposed to take. (truthfully, i got in on the spiral of ants association just because of 'intensifying harmony' -> 'the overwhelming harmony (consuming the colony)' but since then i've ended up latching onto it more and making other connections lmao. You Are One Ant is something that's also stuck for a long time alongside the harmony connection which i've thought about drawing something for occasionally but honestly the whole pre-chorus at this point i think about a lot. the first one especially [you can't remember where you came from. you can't remember where you're going. you can't remember knowing.] but the now you remember/you have to keep it flowing also hits in its own way i think)

also like no matter how you interpret it, how much you think the main parallel can actually remember of "being 4", there's always going to be that light so bright it's blinding as soon as it gets a window into that, right? as soon as it gets to look in that mirror and see that life it doesn't have. the light none of them will ever reach.

in contrast to no matter how happy-go-lucky your 4 is this sort of thing would be crushing, it's also no matter how angsty your 4 is they still have more going for them than the parallels. they're living some sort of life and not just the hollow facsimile of one in a little anthill of a tower in a barren virtual reality. they do have friends even if they've felt neglected, right? but all the parallels really have is each other (and maybe order/smollusk) unless 8 or the others decide to reach out despite how weird that has to be for them.

it's just you and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself and yourself (etc if you figure there's more than the ten we see on the floor 20 bossfight) living in the cold white dark. mere imitations of someone who did something meaningful. who was impressive enough for you to be created in the first place.

but then also, how many of them even care? at what point is that copy so distorted from those burns and fadings that it's still identical in text but completely unrecognizable from the book it came from? and what's it like to know there's a you that doesn't care that it's not you? what's it like to be one that doesn't care when however many do? i'd think it'd be a little offputting even if it's a perfect divide and they don't fight about it or anything. but it'd definitely be isolating if it was only a few of them on either side, too.

none of them are their own person but also they are. none of them are 4 but also they all are. it doesn't matter which way any of them look at it because they can never really be either.

NOT TO MENTION what happens when there isn't anything left to defend from? what happens between the time eight is there and marina making use of the memverse the way she intended to originally? let alone when it just isn't needed anymore in general! what happens to the memverse in general then, to both the parallels and to smollusk? what do they do when they're alone in there. unattended. when they're not following their directive and acting as security. i would think they'd just be interacting amongst themselves which is definitely fine between periods of eight going in with the different palettes but how well does it hold up in those sorts of long term situations?

btw looping back to the link to 4's palette imagine that and then when the palette is completed/cleared just... having that ripped away. you know. being so sure that they're someone else only to suddenly be forced to realize they're not. not just because of the way people are treating them but because all of a sudden there's just... something that's torn out of them and put inside of someone else. having a soul only to realize it's not yours when the real owner takes it back.

anyway yeah that's mostly what i've got off the top of my head but yknow. ultimately as much as i do like the [it actually is 4 au] stuff too i think the actual situation is soooo cool and also super underutilized tbh it's kind of a shame

[southshoretides]

There was a great post I saw a while back but lost about the ideological lens of media criticism that went like "Your average Reylo-hater doesn't hate it because she thinks Rey is not submitting to Kylo as a wife rightfully should, they hate it because it normalizes abuse. People who really hate Avatar tend to think it's colonialist, not that the humans are failing to teach the Na'vi about Christianity. People who hate Harry Potter in 2024 hate it because it's a story about rich prep school kids growing up to become feds plus the trans stuff etc, not because books about magic are Of The Devil."

In other words, you can only say that shaming campaigns/social-media mobbing for people who like Problematic Content is inherently a conservative (i.e. bad) thing (which is an argument I see over and over again, and not just on Tumblr) if you define 'conservative' as entirely divorced from its object-level goals (re: family, religion, law and order, etc) and round it off to "telling people that their feelings are invalid or immoral," with the implied inverse being that it's unprogressive to ever criticize someone's tastes in media.

And I guess that's internally consistent if your modal progressive is a live-and-let-live hippie with a high openness-to-experience and agreeability scores, that's internally consistent. But it's 2024 and if that's your modal progressive, I'm wondering why. Part of the reason this sort of stuff gets me genuinely worked up in a way little else does these days is that it seems so willfully, deliberately ignorant of the last ten years of cultural change, and it often comes from people who really ought to know better.

Because if you listen to the sort of people who hate Problematic Content, you will find that they indeed don't care about media spreading the Gospel, or enforcing traditional heteronormative values, or being patriotic, in fact they have contempt for all those things (which are, yes, themselves, kind of hall-of-mirrorsy concepts, but the important point here is that most conservatives define themselves as favorable to those concepts).

But what they do care about is media that enforces harmful stereotypes, or causes harm to marginalized groups, or defends capitalism/nationalism/etc, and other things conservatives don't really care about. And it is entirely internally consistent to say "I hold progressive values XYZ, I think that fiction that opposes my values will weaken them, ergo I want to ban or suppress fiction that opposes my values." There's nothing inherently un-leftist about that, the Soviet bloc did it for decades! There are millions and millions of people who think that way who openly and proudly despise all things conservative and Republican.

Thousands of words have been spilled about what happened to the left in the 10s, how they willingly took on the pro-censorship, pro-word-police mantle once various proto-Trumps and the big guy himself ran in the opposite direction. Maybe the last few years of things (somewhat, sorta) swinging back the other way have made people forget. (And I put 'in 2024' up there for a reason: the battlefield really was very different as little as 15 years ago. But now it's not.)

But I think it's more likely that people who think you can't be both censorious and a progressive are simply still unwilling to truly accept that, that we have this whole class of people who may say the right things and vote the right way on green fuel and gay rights and whatever else, who claim the mantle of progressives, but are as strict and paranoid and closed-minded as any conservative in practice when it comes to anything outside their comfort zone, just as dependent on whisper campaigns and public moral grandstanding and consent-manufacture as the conservatives they hate.

And this is embarrassing for leftists who don't believe in media censorship, so they try to write these guys off as infected by enemy memes, or double agents, or just hopelessly confused. Either way, they're not real progressives, because they're not how I'd prefer progressives to be. And like again, fine, you can do that, but we have a term for that behavior, not a complimentary one. "Progressives don't ban books" only hold true insofar as progressives don't ban books--that the people with the levers of power in the progressive movement refrain from doing that.

Ultimately, a book banned for reasons of blah blah Jesus morals Christian America is a banned book, and a book banned for reasons of blah blah privilege historical inequity triggers trauma is a banned book, and no clever rhetoric can get you around that.

[the-hidden-writer]

A Piece of True Fiction: Chapter 6

An Alan Wake 2 fic. Spoilers for Alan Wake 2!

Summary: Aleksi Kesä manages to slip out of the spiral and film he was trapped in.

Saga Anderson, caught in the middle of Wake's horror story, finds a man that looks identical to her partner in the middle of the woods. He's lost, confused, and only seems to speak Finnish. Saga has to try and uncover the truth as well as trying to save her family. Where did he come from? How did he get here?

And where's her Casey?

Chapter Summary: Saga finally confronts Alan. Words: 2,524 AO3 Link: [Here!] [First part] [Previous part] [Next part]

A Piece of True Fiction

Chapter 6: Too Soon

“I just don’t understand. It was in my hands, but I could’ve sworn I was reading it for the first time.”

Saga fights the urge to roll her eyes as an FBC medic finishes wrapping her wound. Kesä had done a pretty decent job in Coffee World considering the circumstances, but it does feel better to know it’s been professionally done with less risk of infection. An amputation is the last thing she needs right now.

Right now, she’s itching to speak to Wake. The longer she sits still, the more her thoughts drift to Logan. The more her fury at the writer festers.

She’d described how she’d found Kesä to Estevez while she was being treated (in the morgue of all places). She’d also explained some of her own concerns, such as the mystery of how he ended up in Coffee World, Watery, when she’d last left him in Bright Falls and taken the car herself.

All the more reason she desperately needs to talk to Wake. He was the last person with Casey, and potentially the only person who could explain what’s going on.

Annoyingly, Estevez seems too caught up in her own experience to actually hear what she’s trying to tell her.

“I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m lead here for a reason”, the FBC agent continues. “I study and analyze every detail about a case before heading into the field and I’ve never had memory problems before. I should know this file inside out. I’m more inclined to believe that something paranatural’s at work here.”

“And the Finnish part didn’t tip you off?” Saga asks. She’s grateful that the FBC are taking her seriously though she’s also getting increasingly frustrated by them.

They’re acting too composed and methodical for a situation so dire and terrifying. Sure, Saga’s circles within the FBI are also fairly organized, but the FBC agents are on a whole other level. The way they mill around and make use of the small, rural space available to them is almost dystopian. Part of her wonders if it was a mistake coming here and if she’s ended up confining herself to their agency, when she could be outside trying to fix things and actually be making progress.

Estevez scoffs at her comment. 

“Reality’s malleable here. It’s harder to take people for their word.” She frowns. “Then again, we do have Wake in custody…”

Their conversation is interrupted by a shout and a clatter of metal from the other side of the room.

Saga looks over at the source of the noise, where she can just about make out a very uncomfortable-looking Kesä sitting on an examination table, surrounded by four FBC agents holding various items. One has a tablet, another has a clipboard, and another has a stethoscope. The fourth, the only one empty-handed, is recovering from being shoved backward. A reflex hammer lies on the cold floor by their feet.

“Saga!” Kesä cries out, peering between the agents to catch her eye. "Nämä ei helvetti suostu jättämään minua rauhaan! Puhu järkeä niille!"

Estevez approaches them. “What’s the problem?”

The female agent with the clipboard looks at her boss guiltily. “Don’t know, Ma’am. He’s not co-operating.”

“What about the translator?” Estevez demands.

“He’s refusing to type into the software.”

“Can’t you just get a verbal translator?” Saga asks from her side of the morgue, shrugging away the agent tending to her. “It can’t be hard to find one here.”

“I’ll agree with you on it being more convenient,” answers Estevez, “but bringing in external specialists without the Director's approval would be going against protocol.”

“Fuck the protocol!” Saga exclaims, no longer able to suppress her anger. “This is bigger than that! I don’t know how, but I don’t think that just because Wake’s here it means he can’t change reality. If you won’t take my word for it, fine, but I know things are changing and even you’ve acknowledged it. Why the fuck do you have a file on Casey anyway?!”

“That’s cla-”

“Classified, of course.”

While Saga regains her breath, Agent Estevez appears taken aback and the room is silent. Even Kesä looks somewhat shocked by her outburst.

“Just let me talk to Wake.” Saga pleads, more calmly. “I know more about Casey than you do. He’s my partner. Understanding Wake’s part in all this is the only way we can start figuring out how to fix it.”

The last part is a partial lie. It’s true, she needs to understand, but maybe getting the Clicker to him would be a quicker and more efficient fix.

Estevez sighs. “You have a point. Okay, you win, Anderson.”

Saga opens her mouth to respond but Estevez cuts her off. “-But, I’ll accompany you to the cells. Wake’s been agitated and I don’t want you getting hurt. Not to mention that the station’s cameras are video-only and it’s important for us to know what’s going on.”

Shit. If Estevez goes with her, she won’t be able to hand over the Clicker in secret. She can’t risk them taking it away from her.

“You really think he’ll talk to the agents that locked him up the first chance they got?” Saga argues, hoping that she’s passing off as convincing. “I’m FBI, I know how to handle an interrogation. I’ll pass on anything he tells me. For what it’s worth, you have my word.”

A tense minute of contemplation, then: “...Fine. I’ll unlock the door for you.”

Saga lets out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, Agent.”

She’d really thought that she’d have to fight harder for her case. Still, she isn’t complaining that she’s getting her way.

“I don’t feel good about this at all,” says Estevez, moving toward the exit and beckoning for Saga to follow. “But we really don’t have much of a choice.”

As Saga stands, Kesä speaks up. "Mitä nyt? Mihin olet menossa?"

“We’ll work on getting a translator in the meantime.” Estevez remarks, already walking through the corridor toward the staircase leading up.

Saga hesitates in the doorway. Aleksi’s face is full of confusion, but also holds a twinge of sadness. Maybe even betrayal. They stare at each other for a moment, locked in another exchange via glances. 

Saga is the one to break away, guiltily shooting him a reassuring smile before turning to follow Estevez.

“I promise I’ll be back.”

Saga follows Estevez out of the morgue and back into the station itself. A wave of unease washes over her. She’s getting her way, but something about the situation leaves her feeling unnerved. She feels weirdly unprepared, like she’s missing something important and shouldn’t see Wake without it.

But she has the Clicker. That’s the main thing she needs, right? She tries to shake the feeling away and focus on the present.

How should she approach the situation with Wake? She wants to hold him accountable for his actions- hell, she wants to kill him for what he’s done to Logan, but she knows that she can’t. She could just give him the Clicker without saying a word. 

She won’t do that, though. She needs answers. She needs to hear him acknowledge what he did.

They reach the cell block door and Estevez pulls out a keycard. Before she gets the chance to use it, one of the officers approaches her.

“Uh, Ma’am? We might have a-”

“Give me a second, Young.” Estevez interrupts. “Let me just let Agent Anderson in.”

The door is unlocked and the light above the door turns green.

“I’ll lock this behind you for safety reasons”, explains Estevez. “Just knock four times when you’re ready to come out. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Saga does. She thinks. “I do. Thanks, Estevez.”

Estevez nods and turns to address the anxious officer to the side.

Saga opens the door.

She walks in. The door closes behind her and green turns to red.

“Saga!” 

The voice that greets her isn’t Wake’s, but Ilmo’s. She spots him in the cell closest to her and he stands up when she enters. In the midst of dealing with Kesä, Ilmo’s involvement had slipped her mind. The man looks disheveled and almost animalistic- a far cry from the friendly and confident persona she was used to seeing.  Ilmo steps right up to the bars of the cage to face her, practically snarling. “Fucking FBI, FBC, you government fucks all fucking this up for us! Where the fuck is my brother?!”

That uneasy feeling settles over Saga again. Instinctively, she looks over to the adjacent cell to Ilmo’s. The cell is empty.

When she doesn’t reply, Ilmo bangs his fist against the metal bar. “What the fuck have you done to him?!”

“I…” Saga doesn’t know what to say. Her mind replays the events of the hour since they’d arrived at the station. She doesn’t remember seeing or even hearing any mention of Jaakko Koskela. “Ilmo, Jaakko isn’t here.”

“Bullshit!” Ilmo spits. “You fuckers have done something. Something’s wrong with him, and you-”

“How do you know?” Saga interjects. 

“I just know!” Ilmo responds. It sounds more like a childish whine. Saga picks up on an element of desperation in his posture and voice, and suddenly something clicks. He sounds just like how she feels on the inside, desperate to get Logan back and to help Casey. He’s worried for his twin, but he’s locked up and helpless. She can’t help but sympathize with him.

She goes to respond, to inquire more about Jaakko’s whereabouts, when another voice speaks up from a cell further down.

“Saga? Is that you?”

Wake.

Her feet start to carry her toward his cell.

“No, don’t fucking talk to him, Saga.” Ilmo says behind her. “He’s a fucking monster! You don’t know what you’re dealing with, let me out!”

Saga ignores him.

Like Ilmo, Alan Wake stands at the edge of his cell to face her, except he’s gripping the bars so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. If she thought Ilmo looked animalistic, Wake is that turned up to eleven. He wears jeans, a bloodied white tee, and an unhinged expression.

“Do you have it?” he asks.

Saga sees red.

“You wrote Logan into the story,” she says coolly. “You told me yourself, from the Dark Place.”

Wake doesn’t react to her words, and instead carries on with his crazy spiel. “Listen! I think something’s wrong. Something- something’s off. The balance is… Scratch is-”

“My daughter is dead because of you! She’s a child.” Saga hisses. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Alan shakes his head. “I’m trying to fix this. I will fix this, I’ll save everyone, I just need to know what’s happening. There’s something different, just- Just give me the Clicker. I’ll fix everything. We’re running out of time.”

Saga fights the urge to slap the man.

“And Casey?” she asks. “You change his memories to what? Tear us apart? You already ruined his life with your writing, and you just had to do it again. You are one selfish fuck.”

Alan groans, frustrated. “No, I just…”

He trails off. His grip on the iron bars loosens. “I…”

He takes a step back. His strained expression morphs into one of confusion.

“...What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You admitted to using my family as part of your sick story. Well, you’ve gone miles over the goddamn line. How did you get him to Watery?”

Alan lets out a sound of disbelief. “What are you- What was that about memories? I don’t think I…”

“And why Finnish?” Saga snaps. “You twisted so much of him for no reason, even his name. How does this help anything?”

“Saga.” Alan says loudly, breaking her out of her rant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Saga waits for the prickling in her skin or the flash in her mind or any indication that he might be lying.

When none comes, she is taken aback. “What?”

“I didn’t do anything to Casey.” Wake states. He sounds genuine. Saga hates that. “The lodge was attacked by cultists and he ran outside, then Scratch and the Taken showed up. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“Casey showed up at Coffee World half-naked and talking in Finnish. He didn’t know where he was and he doesn’t know me at all. Are you sure you don’t know anything about that?”

Saga’s grasping at straws. Wake has to be the one responsible, because if he isn’t… What then?

Alan is silent for a moment, his face blank. “No… no, I don’t. I’m trying to remember… you said Finnish, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Ilmo cuts in, sounding very concerned. “Saga? What’s going on?”

“Yes, Finnish.” Saga looks at Ilmo, responding to Alan. With Alan claiming to know nothing, she’s willing to take answers from anyone. She’s starting to feel very, very scared for her partner.

“Give me the Clicker.” Alan says firmly, extending a hand through the bars. “It doesn’t matter what’s been happening on the outside, I’ll fix it all. Just give it to me.”

Ilmo bangs on the bars again. “Don’t fucking give it to him!”

Saga feels conflicted. On one hand, she’d worked so hard to get the Clicker. She’d risked her life, even, and it was all for the sake of saving Logan. As far as she knows, giving Wake the Clicker is the only way of getting her daughter back.

The new question that makes her hesitate is: does that extend to Casey?

Wake admitted to using Logan. She heard him say so himself, and she resents him for it. But he’s adamant in his stance that he didn’t use Casey in the same way. As much as Saga wants to blame it on him and believe he’s lying, there are too many facts that don’t add up. How would the addition of ‘Aleksi Kesä’ help the horror story? It only causes a delay, if anything. It’s a distraction and it’s unlike any of the other changes Wake has been making.

So if he has no idea, how will he be able to fix him? By handing over the Clicker, will she save Logan but doom Casey?

Even though her daughter comes first, she can’t bring herself to do that to her partner. She needs more information to get a better understanding of the situation.

“I don’t have it.” She lies.

“Thank God.” She hears Ilmo mumble.

Both of them are startled when Alan suddenly violently slams the bars of his own cell. “I knew something was different. Fuck!”

He pulls back, his fists clenched.

Saga realizes that with this lie, she needs a new plan ASAP.

Wake seems to have a similar thought process because he turns back around with wide, frantic eyes. “Saga, listen to me, you need to-”

He is cut off by all the overhead lights blacking out at once, leaving the three of them in total darkness.

Alan and Ilmo curse simultaneously.

Gunshots emanate from the door leading to the station, followed by shouts, followed by screams. Saga rushes over and tries to open it. It’s still locked.

Fuck. Not again.

Finnish translations:

"Nämä ei helvetti suostu jättämään minua rauhaan!" = "These people won't leave me the fuck alone!"

"Puhu järkeä niille!" = "Talk sense into them!"

"Mitä nyt? Mihin olet menossa?" = "What now? Where are you going?"

Thanks for reading! I hope you'll stick with me for the ride...