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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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So many of them were badly hurt.
The light he's thinking of comes from the bonfire, like the old ways cave explorers used to light their way in the belly of the island. That's a conversation for another time. ]
I'm not that good at this.
Just wanted to say thank you. For hanging in there. For...
Being a friend.
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There's life in the armory again, the feeling of other people doing people things and they don't really understand what it's been like, to stay here in the dark with little company and less hope. Where every stand could be the last and the person standing shoulder to shoulder with you, could very well be the last person you'll ever see. They don't understand why the hallway is littered with weapons or why it had to done, why there are wounds left untended on the people who haven't really slept in weeks or why being around a lot of people who can talk back? Is just a lot right now.
So, Quentin is tucked away somewhere, not hiding but breathing and he pulls the tablet closer, speaking lower. Heartfelt and stumbling.]
It's-- you're welcome. I'd like to say 'anytime', but jesus I really don't want to do this again any time soon. It's been-- [Riku knew what it had been like, no words had to be said about that, no explanation necessary] As horrible as this is going to make me sound? I'm happy you were here. The-- that it was you? Easier to fight with someone you trust than someone you don't.
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Yeah. I feel the same way.
Mind if I ask you something personal?
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You can ask
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Pfft, pretend that other one was voice too.
Best friend? Lover? Boyfriend? All of the names fall flat, and Eliot is so much more than any of them.
And he didn't forget about the message on the network, about controlling information and about how it can all be used against him. Or about Riku himself, holding Quentin's lantern to teach him a lesson in trust.
Clearing his throat, Quentin starts.]
We're-- together. As partners? He's the love of my life.
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it doesn't bother me
[ The next few lines take a little longer: ]
someone once told me your feelings for someone can be so strong that they leave no room for fear or doubt
you kept trying even when things looked like they wouldn't end well and i thought
he had to be someone important to you
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He is. -- it's not like there's no fear. Or doubt. I mean, have you met me? But. He's Eliot.
[As if that has ever explained anything, but he's been so used to using it to push back against stupid, risky ideas back home that it just slips out again.]
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because protecting the person you love the most is more important.
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I think
I know where you're coming from.
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Is it— a problem? Where you’re from?
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if you're afraid of what'll happen if you're different
no
if you feel like you can't be yourself, your whole world shrinks.
Where am I going with this? I think if I knew you before Beacon I might have actually tried that paopu thing.
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[Quentin stops talking, the tablet still recording when he goes quiet, chewing in his lip. Because, yeah? There had been fear, about who and what he was, but it had never been about his sexuality. He’d always been pretty okay with that.
Quentin had never been normal. His mother knew and chose to leave to get away from it, he always broke things and his own brain breaks, even after dying, it never stops being a part of who he is. The parts he never shows to anyone if he can help it.]
I’ve always been different. There’s— and that’s okay? It’s okay to be. To just be. You.
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stories say if you shared it with someone your fates would be intertwined forever. just the kind of sappy stuff romantics dig, right?
and yeah. it is. took a while to figure it out.
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[Not everything nice blows up in people’s faces, not even in Quentin’s world. Just most of it. But it’s kind of nice that Riku thinks Quentin could have helped him be braver.]
Who? Who would you have shared it with? Your fruit?
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I'm not gonna get into a long story about this.
I didn't tell my friends how I felt when I had the chance. maybe I was afraid it would change things, I don't know.
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It might have? Telling someone how you feel, how you really feel. Yeah, it might change things. Sometimes for the better, and— sometimes not. [And it’s right there, the story he never told anyone. The heartbreak and the lifetime of memories, of love and loss and everything in between that made it all worth it in the end.] It’s still worth it? To say it, even if. It doesn’t work out the way you hoped it would.
I’m sorry.
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