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networkinthenight2019-12-01 02:44 pm
inthenightmods) wrote in networkinthenight2019-12-01 02:44 pm
[ѧׄѵٜҒեҡٜהػһ] - WEEҎЯҝLY BUЀLωؗҹTIN - OPױҊ
WEEKLY BULLETIN
[This week, the bulletin opens with a video. It's been shot from a webcam that seems to be perched atop a computer screen, and in front of the screen is Robin, biting her lip as she types frantically. If she meant to start recording herself, she doesn't show it. A timestamp in the corner reads 17 NOV 03:02.
The room behind her is cozy, resembling the control deck of a battleship as redecorated by a teenage girl. That's essentially what it is, after all. The red beam of the lighthouse flares occasionally at the top of the screen.
Robin's harried typing continues for a few moments, uninterrupted, until a shadow slinks up from the staircase behind her. One by one, strings of fairy lights flicker out, the room going dark save for the glow of the screen. Robin finally notices just before the last of the lights die, her hands freezing on the keyboard, but she doesn't dare turn around, not yet.
This video comes with sound, and everyone's device's volume will crank to max volume to really emphasize Robin's shaky breaths as she listens, head tilting to glance over her shoulder at the darkness. The image flickers, crackling with static and distortion, until—]
Kë̥̟̝͇ͦ̈́̋— ee͍͔̺͔̖̕p— er͖̥͓͔̼̤͍—
[Robin whips around, her chair toppling over as she stands, but the video crackles again, and she's flung back against the desk. The computer screen crashes to the floor, taking the camera with it, and the feed stays focused on the floor for a long, long time. Eventually, it fades into static.
When it clicks back on again, the camera has been cocked up just enough to pull the room into view again. The timestamp in the corner reads 28 NOV 14:26.
Robin is slumped against the wall, filthy with blood and sweat, eyes glassy as she stares up at the forest spirit looming over her. The spirit cranes their head toward the camera, their eyes flashing green, and they wave to the viewers in a clumsy, jerking motion. Then, they drop something heavy and metallic in front of Robin, and she jumps at the sudden noise. It's a lantern, long broken and in pieces.
The forest spirit tips forward at the waist, bending down to press their face against Robin's as she whimpers and tries to keep still. They negotiate their forehead against hers, their green eyes flashing until she musters the courage to look up, and then they trill.
There's a scream, and the feed again cuts to static.]
anno҂ؼҘϷments
- I don't kԻӟϔυ what happen؇d. I'ӻԛ sorry. I think tϒйԷy're gone nэӽّw.
- I can't delete thώӾҊ video. I've tried, but they fucked up my computer aՓ׳սϗׅаҚ؞םӆѺs forcing me to post the video file with פӡӆe bulleֺЛԬn. A lot of stuкϗϊԥןټ֫ԓՙֳ٤Ёs broken. I'll nԬгd to fix it.
- ThԨЌґ ЬՉave me a lanшбҿٻӇٷա. I don't know whose מ֙طАϫ is. I need time to fiףУӊחѶЇϑӐٰЉՁׁٓӪ out.
- Use this bҪӸϲetin to regroup and share informatЫׇղԭ with each Ծ֔ther. ҬѮere's no point in keԖ֞я secrets.
- I'֑ҩё OK. Thөy ҁ֥ϘٶЭגӿӧױϐѲӢϥ.
Ԇ٣؏،ӂssifieds
- ѤךٓвҚխԴ־ӔщЅաҺѐϺӴϣҗԲՃԴѡҜӚԎ؋ӫӿоВϜ؎ՇӂىҺЄЪؽՁԫԵӏ٢ӼϘլ֏ҟӼЁׇٰ֫ՄτӅ֪ؑФҭҶؚزӹ؝Сֳ֜ԦؐӫգٶϚѾбϏצغْװ֩ئіϬ؇ϽϚυկؤӥіؓГՁؿأأԽԼҡٷաϤֽӋԟԂїӦѰבӬѦӰիҷϑ֟ӗכֽСнѻّׄҳخرՓԨٖҤϚϰн֙Щҍ՝Ծ֔ٶԫױձҭкؓљӟώӍҭصװٳزؙӱٮՎҊҬջйѫ֊ײؒυظԦְէٯӪմ؝ҬѮ٤֔նѫټՆρ֮كס٧ςГӷֆҪץԁԊպՉϑϣזѻӭ֎БӒٰт؏Ԋ٩ҪӸϲֈҾԁӂѤЂԳך֧ϮէӵءЫׇղԭљֶбҏ٬Ұ֝ՍשזԒӈبدЍ׃ϨІҖЄשѺϺϭы҆ҠԇϘӢѱхԶϻԳضҩДֹԳէ֝ђҮӱӬќѬϿқғϱХϟѥԍظмӕֿӃѥչټփֹҎЯҝץѭѢϤϩԖ֞яخ׳Іيӆ֞ԀՁֿόӚ٦ԎӔүՒ֕ӭل҈ёت֩қҒׯձмӉϘцӕϓ،ٶϯם֠ϞϡўϡѺժϽсϢӡսѶ֪њҺӝٰԃϨٗإϢ֥ҍ؟ԲҧϜٲҎЖ؟ӒҗԹЊӫԗӰֹكϾ֎յِרϦϞׂԢЁ؟ӴРיسմһϡϺӘӃҎЀҎӑЪϲϨը֞צЊ՝խՅ҅тغќԆתςءҶّֈϣԃ֑ٗВҗԺٯ״ؤԭюҧؗـׇ٘ռրתսؿҌӜנՌӟӔز֬Ը٠ЍИ֑Ѡ١ІآԒتҪ٫ҩمѾѳ؇ٖ׳ӑϴҾرҭА֪ӗү֩ԮЍҁҎыҁԛٶдԁѥՎмҷ؆ӖٸҲϦԣَϗԯѤآԤϕ֊ؿг؆ϬҢڀԽϬўύϭӣч؈ՒԖצԨבЂ٦הԿҊтջϥחїپԪֱѱյҽҮٞӀяЮёֳ֒٧ӴҵύԗԯϴԮ٧Հϴբր٥؋ӧ՛קש؋
- ؋ԟϮԌض٤Ҿ֡֟ԦՊיԕИҴрٮֺՄϳ׃סՅа֤ԝװٽعєҠфպيӒ֞ԵՋُ֩ҧԵِѿףԸУҿהӾӈӑגؕٙӫնП՚ٛ٤ةгһѳҌСϦ֍شԱԅѲح؎ѷԨٲدֶؕдЅ֞ٞҠزыјԔҠوԜѺ֛ՄҸתиЪϧӉյгѲԧ֒ڀՂҸЍӳДظѢϬҶԖԞԨҠٗوضՐЂЯҲϷԵҴҖԻ׀ԑҬФ؝҅ҏ؋ґԔصфѬծշ֪֪҅ؔپњҼЙփҩױҊѺρωؗҹ،ٝсКӧؖբϙֲٖٞҁϋؓҧёׅԏ֙ػԂԩԳϣِؤӫ֬тϚЄׁؼӉҹׁսٜѲاԕӱ֮ҘֽҸѠҦѫפӡիمГמՐٱЃ҃եӵыгԘӽҶϹЎֈׯչϑـּ٫մՆӷؕаєثزӬҜϽٺؒϗТѳѤРы֖ؽӶϞѦϻӺոאӕҡٜהػһӹפԷЊӼԯչժӌԋЉٜϷҬپضһלЁӂѮѿѲҲؾѽԤИԠЎеַٛҹشҲ֬ӱ؊ҒծҪцְՅײӰوҕ؝؛ӍدԎԵج֙ԯҀԸحгҳ׆
- Н؉ؙЀٴճֹ׃Ϝتѫيָ׃ֲَѕ֖رպҀԳՖϜϷ՞ؔ֎֞յЈًӟҪيמԃѿ֡Ս٘ϕў؈֬ѧׄѵٜҒեЀЊϓπюֈպմӴքدѧֺϹӠՊՔٔҫЎبؓбئן
- Ѩ֞ظωϾסѷտќЁГպՇӑוϟϑҲӾقֹץեӹֹأϸ٣м؈Տթ՞ϜثاωӘؑюԄյӪҦ҇БԚеֹ҅הԈϕڀزאԾФװԗӿՅϠٲсեЌصэϾЬ֗Իςל֣Ճгӣό҅Ө׳ԏѤщ،ӜՄҲׂ֫ӘٿϬҠذчҜϓҋҬѭϕآЅ؍ؖՓ֖ٵӼքϪӇՖٚϏԊшϘӏ؛גٝךؘנѐҙԙҬֻلҗыՖ։ϨАТؘѸҏЃؚ՛ӅնϑӭԌьӕاն֑լׅҎЈϵгةؿҢҎ֊սϾӷԸ҂ك҅؟ԀЅѶ׃ЎԠъԢόКׇЄ҆٘ϜךثضՔԩո֟џأՑՌלٟ֯ѣբҶԡּ֦թҴϝԓӆӎئџНפҍ֏֤ԫԘ٫ѿՠқ֒ӥӭйٞѓӵԻϢѐχԕҕϋփτёЭӉצרןӗ٢ЉҞՂѭϤ֭ѿپӮփԶԈٳѴӇكքԄ٠ѿٙր֎ҸմٔҖϲПӉֲЏа֗Ԑӥصَ҇ѩѴҳהТҤժؔԝӝҤ҅ղَ֚ӼַՅثس֬رמբԹٔդԹϷسҿԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١Ҧҥ҄דϦ֠Մ՞Кԏ֙ثئлמջֽ٫֙ׯپϡѬֲӏԿЦոлֺٚӢٽҥֽ؏ՀңөҴҙӷր٭سՕ֙Қ֙ћٳӍ՟ЧӽقѩתئجψЗլӽ֢҃ؖϼѾҮֱԍԑүїטҋؙٜԯրֲҌѭхРӺ֜ѓٞюϭӼԉױѢ٦ъҲմϳ֘϶ՇԏπٸϿϬДց٦уֱҼ֫ѯծЬҰϡЦӠգҜדْנЛՁгיёҝ֖ٸЙҷ؏ЗҽМٲЬթώԧؾԇҍҬؗٯԩֵ֦ԺئӿӰ֕ԝԷԦϗӰԟ׆շϋҌ؟ثЛւԾوϺғӍѵվԂԱѤѶҚԘٕЗغԺّٞԷҮѓټײ֞ӑ٨ٞЂ֪Ёא֓ՀخԞԊќӳӄώԱח׳ѡՀ҄ذمѳؠҾѹ״ٻϲбԦҾؽٹҦ׀ҸՀϯԪվעՉӸӮցϻҙϜхتӚϨրԈ҉Ӣԛ֧ѷϳҠѮԯ״ҘӗђقטעѾ՜ϿԣϊӇ֍֚֔ϯًЈώ֊ԴԩפЗԖҳٟդϟҌѧԾԕрٟѹҼնӼѩӛЏЛϾֳ֞ДМѽٗσӽӑғӑҏԐϨѠםтӯ،Ͻчի٩הәӨ҄֬ϻԭٙФҦѼђЇضҞѺֻҊϻԸѹҔ֊ՙѮչآםӟӽٳ
- If yԭҹրгϛЍֺԹС to subҼظԘt an advertisement, חոϙӣҞՐ҇ՑԧғτӸВѫ϶se drop them bׂѤ؛טҗӐѝըϠӚكՎϛӫ٫ٚոճحПֹЃРؾϔӽ־Ӎice.
oٌՎطد҆ёװғԟ٢Ӷֶَճؑաӏries
- Jչآם Gordon
- Hermione Gӟӽٳnger
- GriҊϻz Visser
- VaniҔ֊ՙas
- Bucky BѺֻԸѹs
- DaҰϡina Clairӭ
- Nyx UlrФ؝҅
- XayЁh
- There miѧӚt be more. WІՊ։١Ҧe still ԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١ bodies.
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no subject
[ He almost washes his hands of this right away because she's vehement enough that he doesn't think there's value in trying to persuade her to see things even a little differently. It's not that he thinks it's wrong - her feelings are valid, reasonable even, and their circumstances extenuating.
But Riku has ever been tied to the Darkness, since the day the Door was opened, it has changed him, helped him see... well, nothing "higher", but that there's a nuance to the shadows. It's rare that a being with a heart is purely evil or purely good. In all the worlds he's visited, the different forms of life he's seen, all those differences have told him that some things remain constant. ]
When you think about the spirits, do you identify each one of them as a unique individual. For example, with a name and personality?
no subject
I did in my world. Not here. At least, not anymore. I won't refrain from pulling a dagger on ones I see. I don't intend to die anymore.
I was nice, I respected them the same way I respect the forest and the fields of my world, and the magic that runs through it. My respect was always acknowledged, appreciated. If I'm going to get stabbed and left to bleed out for recognizing individuality and personality in these spirits, I'd rather go ignorant.
no subject
To them, we're are a gang of strangers who just keep on coming.
No matter how many times we're killed, more of us show up.
We could say it's wrong to kill, to hurt others. That's true from our perspective. How well do we practice that?
As many as thirty resets. Most of these because we kill each other to a stalemate.
Because we can't stop making the same mistakes. No wonder the spirits don't get why killing us is a big deal. We've done it to each other so many times.
To apply our notions of right and wrong to beings who don't even think the same way we do, who might even view us as a threat... I think that's a mistake.
It won't change your death, it won't give any of us back the ones we've lost.
But if we can find a common ground, if we can communicate what we want and don't want, if we can work together, I think we'll accomplish what all the other resets couldn't.
You don't have to go along with it.
I'm just asking you to think it over.
no subject
If our group was constantly hostile towards the spirits, the attacks would be understandable. An eye for an eye, that's how it goes.
But we didn't provoke them.
We fed them
We asked them for their names.
We made boats of paper and let them float on the lake.
The first time they attacked us, they had a reason, people sneaked to Lighthouse.
But this? Why this? Give me a reason why they attacked us NOW.
Since summer we tried to communicate with them and find common ground! Every time we tried, it backfired!
I'm not going to work with someone who can turn on me in a second and stab me in the neck just because they felt like it and "didn't know another way to teach me"
no subject
These spirits are different from the ones in Beacon. We have names for those in town... the Postmaster, the Librarian.
We see each other and exist as individuals, we care if anything happens to us. Our hearts are connected.
That's a sign that this can work. That it has worked. A suffering heart has trouble seeing anything outside of its own pain, I understand that, and I know what I'm asking is a lot.
You and I haven't killed each other, but hundreds of people just like us over nearly a hundred years... have. It's going to take work to reverse everything they might think they know about us. But I believe it can be done. I'm not asking you to trust blindly. I'm asking you to give building that trust a chance.
no subject
I don't know what else I can do.
But will NOT let them kill me again. If anyone comes after me, I'll kill it. There's no negotiating with these things once they are set on skewering you like a rabbit for a roast.
You are standing in the defense of these creatures, and yet those same creatures may have pushed previous people to their limit. The Keeper said that before. That people went crazy here. One doesn't just choose to suddenly turn into a maniac.
Those hallucinations, the green-eyed spirits- ever thought that people got tortured into madness. Into killing themselves- unintentionally or on purpose.
I've given them a chance. I've been giving them chances since I arrived months and months ago. Always doubting Keeper over those creatures, letting her be the responsible one for what happened.
Not anymore.
no subject
Absolving or holding to account these guys based on our sense of right and wrong is pointless.
Exploring the really difficult opportunities might just be key to our survival.
For what it's worth, we do a pretty good job sickening our hearts all by ourselves. But the green eyed spirits sure know how to help that along.
Anyway. Thanks for hearing me out. I am sorry about what happened to you.
no subject
Both of which were taken away from her during her life and now in death too.]
I'm not going to be anyone's puppet or experiment. And I don't need pity from you.
no subject
Give yourself some credit and give me a break.
I understand you're hurting and you're angry, but that doesn't give you a pass for what you do and say with it.
no subject
I refuse to die over and over again for some kind of "learning experience"
And nothing gives you a pass to tell me what to do or think
You go back to your murdering spirit buddies
And tell them that if any one of them even crosses my path, I'll kill it
no subject
What you want is something to take your hurt and anger out on.
Sorry, but I'm not your guy.
no subject
I'll see your pity and compassion then,when your dying moments come to haunt you.
Until then, you are right, you are not my guy.