WE RETURN

[peuronoia]

IT WAS ALWAYS ME. Independent, private, selective, mutuals-only, sporadic activity blog for ALAN WAKE, with guest appearances from MR. SCRATCH & ALEX CASEY. As rewritten by Falcon ( transmasc, he / they, 25+, GMT+2 ). Viewer discretion is advised.

CARRD. PROMPTS. BLOGROLL: @buriedabove ( active )

[inagent-moved]

the brunette watched the stranger, though his eyes narrowed just a bit as the man's face looked rather... similar to the other guy that he met a while back. bit of a weirdo, but honestly, if he had been stuck here as long as that guy was, he would've developed weirdo traits as well. besides, from what he can pick up, this guy isn't zane and is certainly a lot more calmer than the other guy.

which is nice, for one.

at the mention of cauldron lake, adrian perked up. "yeah i heard of it, i used to live in bright falls but then..." he motions to the area around them, the place looking like a frankenstein amalgamation of new york city and bright falls. this was his place so to speak, there were many areas to the dark place, zane lives in his own area so occasionally he'll go and visit him.

"well, you're here so i'm sure you got a general idea of what happened."

[peuronoia]

How many more people could be lured in and trapped in the Dark Place’s overbearing snares?  It was somehow relieving to know that the other was not only a vision weaved from the whispers worming their way into his head and taking root.  The author loosened up noticeably,  but there was still strain building up and pulsating in his shoulders and nape.  He needed to focus.  Idle yet fidgeting hands slid down the lapels of his tweed jacket,  dusting off specks of dirt getting lost in the thick fabric’s earthy tones.

“  Well,  I guess,  ”  he muttered absently,  hurriedly fixing the tie resting askew against his heaving chest and then the writer’s torn attention returned to the other after skimming over their surroundings,  which appeared like a collage of a couple of places at once.  Vanishing memories meeting the eldritch horror’s idea of a city.  His thumb hooked on the satchel’s strap,  making sure the brittle remnant of the reality he used to know hadn’t disappeared in the past fleeting seconds.

“  Do you know how long you’ve been here?  Honestly,  I’m starting to lose track of my days.  ”

[sanamustdie]

"safe haven", inspired by mitski using light as her dancing partner while performing heaven.

[peuronoia]

@heavenprotect FOUND THE MANUSCRIPT. MORBID CURIOSITY PROMPTS.

hey ! what’d you do that for ?

Alex ardently trusted the saying that one could never be too sure.  In his field of work,  granting the benefit of the doubt was a shot in the kneecap more often than not.  He had always been more of a sceptic,  but the visit to Bright Falls and seeing the infamous lake in the flesh started swaying his firm point of view.  Maybe there was much more to what his haggard eyes could see.  The inexplicable malicious ambience riddled with the signs and scribbled emblems he yet had not precisely pinpointed on the board was making him dizzy and doubtful of the thoughts droning within the constraints of his skull.  Worst of all,  he was on the verge of questioning who he was.

Trying to get some sleep proved futile,  so he threw on his jacket and holstered his gun before heading out to the town,  which seemed just as restless despite the hour.  Met with a few glances from the nearby locals chatting by the police station,  he strolled down towards the deserted pier.  His brittle hope to have an undisrupted moment of peace evanesced ere long when he spotted a moving figure from the corner of his eye.  A couple of swift moves and the other was pinned against the ground,  barrel between the shoulder blades.

You’re losing it,  Casey.

“  Fair advice…  Don’t sneak up on people,  ”  he answered gruffly and pulled away,  letting his pistol rest once more.  “  Is everyone an insomniac ‘round here?  ”

[peuronoia]

ARE YE HAPPY? WE ARE MIGHTY. ft. @sixsixfive

[peuronoia]

@inagent FOUND THE MANUSCRIPT. MORBID CURIOSITY PROMPTS.

where did you come from ?

There was a lake  &  then there was nothing.  He was perpetually stuck between what he deemed could be the reality and that pandemonium of a place,  which was nothing but boundless darkness.  But there was so much more to it,  always had been.  Every truth he believed to be genuine turned out to have a thousand faces,  endless alterations.  He was lucky if he was perceptive and quick enough to catch onto them in time—  Time.  What was it if not some stagnant,  immovable mass he was hardly trudging through in search of not only a way out but also his dear wife?

Once again,  all was a dismal haze.  Like a bullet shot in the merciless starless night,  the writer heard the inquiring voice echoing and so he followed until into view came the other’s contour.  Alan’s dark brows bumped together in a contortion both confused and wondering.  No simple answers to that.

“  From over—  ”  He spun on his heel partly to grasp the view behind within his peripheral vision,  index finger darting out to point at the door he had gone through,  or so he had thought.  “  Oh,  fudge,  ”  muttering under his breath upon the sight he was deadly certain he remembered differently before turning to the brunette.  “  Unless you’re asking how I actually ended up here…  Cauldron Lake.  You ever heard of it?  ”

[booksqouted]

“We like the part where we get saved. We like the part where we get destroyed. Why do those feel so similar?”

— Margaret Atwood, Dearly: New Poems

[lehazard]

#𝐋𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 || INDIE. SELECTIVE. PRIVATE. MUTUALS ONLY. 21+ ONLY. An Original Character based around the Resident Evil franchise, canon divergent, not affiliated with the Resi rpc. ˗ˏˋ Penned by Savvvy - Willow. ´ˎ˗

[miswaken]

starter for @peuronoia

Her mind is racing too quickly for sleep. Thoughts loop back on themselves, a length of film rewound again and again and again. Holding it up to the light, scrutinizing each frame, each fragmented memory that rises to the surface like a wayward bubble from the deep. Enlarged, printed, pinned up the darkroom of her skull. The Oldest House was a flashbulb illuminating the shadowed corners of her subconscious. This morning's interview lasted little more than an hour. The agents she spoke to were kind enough, professionally detached without being disinterested, letting her rant about the long stretch of sleepless nights, the cameras she set up, her maddening determination to catch the damn thing. And there it was, staring up from the photo she slid across the table, an enraged insect in amber. Preserved. Real.

Yet there was something different about it in that moment. She'd taken dozens of photo of Alan over the years. Hundreds, maybe. The thing that haunted her apartment couldn't have been him, just some warped monster wearing his face like a mask. But the photo -- the wrongness of it -- was suddenly familiar to her. Her work, twisted, leering at her. She couldn't look away, couldn't escape it, because everywhere she turned it always brought her right back to--

The cabin.

The lake.

The dark.

She said nothing of it to the agents, let them usher her back towards the lobby with a promise that they'd be following up soon. Alice agreed but her mind was already miles away, standing on a lakeshore searching for something she couldn't name.

Alice slides out of bed and pads to the door -- closed, now, as it has been since the nightly visitations started to feel more threatening. She hesitates, hand on the knob, before pulling it open. The lights are on in the hallway beyond, a habit she'd kicked but re-adopted in the face of the unthinkable. It hadn't taken long to surmise the monster hated the light, and she'd spend the rest of her savings on bulbs if it meant never having to see it again. Except she wants to see it, now. Needs to see it, as though it might help her exhume more of the memories she can feel but not see, not yet, fumbling in the pitch black to spool them onto the developing reel. She goes to the entryway first, turns off the camera rig set up there, does the same to the one outside the bedroom door. Then the hallway lights are snuffed with a snap of the switch, and her breath catches as night settles in on all sides. The bedroom gets the same treatment, the nightlight in the bathroom a dim glow in her periphery. Safety, if she needs it.

It's been so long since she sat awake in this bed, waiting for Alan to stumble home to her. This isn't so different, she tells herself. Except even at his worst she never got the feeling he wanted to hurt her, let alone kill her. This thing...

Alice counts her breaths, metering the length of each inhale and exhale, and waits.

[peuronoia]

Beloved husband gone…  or is he?  Scratch has made himself all too comfortable in the Wakes’ abode,  seeping into the walls like clamant cigarette smoke one can never really shoo away,  but even more lethal.  Each nightfall he’s been meandering through the apartment,  adapting himself to the place he should know better than the back of his hand if he desired to slither into the role he expected Alice to be delighted to see.  Lost spouse appearing out of thin air—  Who wouldn’t be on cloud nine?  But the deadly instincts as well as the wicked hunter’s inclinations made it harder to memorise the lines from the script he,  all in all,  was the author of.  He hungers after her fear,  its dizzying scent the bloodthirsty fiend sneering in the shadows seeks.

The typewriter’s metronome would resonate every now and then,  like a familiar song soaring from the old record player and flowing through the murky space occasionally illuminated by bulbs he wished to shatter,  but merely caused them to flicker instead.  Pieces of Alan the monster picked up,  artefacts both palpable and not to craft the perfect image of the imperfect writer.  So often the efforts were falling short due to his impulses calling out for him to bury such pretences and turn to what he knew best.  Forging living nightmares.  She was definitely not helping her own case,  which he deemed doomed,  whenever a new light flashed and pushed him back into the corner.

In the quiet,  he lingers until the lock in the door clicks.

For once,  he does not follow her,  but remains in the scarce nook of darkness.  Soon the abysmal tar spills and spreads down the floorboards,  inviting itself into the hallway leading further towards the bedroom,  where the woman’s faintly backlit outline stands out.

Yet he keeps his distance as he materialises from the gloom;  the silhouette hazy and rippling at the edges when the distorted hoarse voice joins in,  “  Alice,  Alice,  Alice…  ”

It takes a blink for him to vanish,  only to reappear at the end of the corridor.  Glaring from underneath the shade cast by the lowered furrowed eyebrows,  teeth are bared in a wide crooked grin,  crimson-stained.  She wants to see him outside of what her camera manages to catch?  He shall show himself as he truly is.  A moment more and the figure sharpens,  the black smoke swirling around him dispersing.

His timbre softens the second he speaks up again,  but only enough to lose the static-like disturbances rattling between the syllables seethed,  “  Missed me?  Then here I am.  ”

[ohisms]

↪     𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑩𝑰𝑫 ᶜᵘʳᶤᵒˢᶤᵗʸ .    (  a  collection  of  various unsorted question prompts .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .   will  be  updated  frequently .  )

are you kidding me ?

[ name ] ,  what just happened ?

hey !  what’d you do that for ?

did you plan on ever telling me ?

do you want to tell me the truth ,  this time ?

you seriously think i could’ve done this ?

did you know about this ?

[ name ] ,  what were you thinking ?!

can we talk ?  alone ?

why are you doing all of this ?

it can’t be that bad ,  right ?

haven’t you heard the stories ?

who did this to you ?

what are you insinuating ?

what did you think was gonna happen ?!

you think i could do something like that ?

who do you think you are ?

why won’t you let me help you ?

do you have any evidence of that ?

can we put away our differences for a second ?

where have you been ? 

is that  …  blood ?

what’s your problem ?

are you real ?

where’s your sense of adventure ?

would you kill for me ?

you’re  [ name ] ,  aren’t you ?

why can’t you just let it go ?

do you want me to stay ?

what if we left  …  ran away ?

what else was i supposed to do ?

how did you get this scar ?

could you give me a hand with this ?

do you ever stop talking ?

you’ve never done this before ,  have you ?

where do you think you’re going ?

how many fingers am i holding up ?

what can i say to make it better ?

why can’t we all just get along ?

can i stay the night ?

what’s that supposed to mean ?

where did your common sense go ?

you seriously don’t believe me ?

what aren’t you telling me ?

do you have a minute ?

why are you lying ?

you’re gonna walk away from this ?

where am i supposed to go ?

can we stop and think about this rationally ?

how long has it been since you’ve slept ?

why can’t we be civil about this ?

what makes you so special ?

where is all of this coming from ?

how are we gonna get out of here ?

you’ll never leave me ,  right ?

were you in on this ?

care to join me for a bit ?

shows what you know ,  doesn’t it ?

do you want to get out of here ?

what were you expecting to happen ?

what are you working on ?

i can tell you’re upset ,  what happened ?

when can i see you again ?

where do we go from here ?

can you sit up for me ?

how long have you been awake ?

what are you getting out of this ?

can we put this behind us ?

where are you ?  nobody’s heard from you .

how can i make this go away ?

were you following me ?

where does it hurt ?  show me .

[ name ] ,  what the hell ?

hey  …  can i ask you something ?

you’re not gonna tell me where we’re going ?

really ?  you’re gonna do that right here ?

are you even listening to me ?

we can help each other ,  right ?

hey  …  did you hear that ?

you have no idea who i am ,  do you ?

how long have you known ?

what exactly are you asking me to do ?

how was i supposed to know that ?

are you new around here ?

can you stop and listen to me for a second ?

do you think there’s something wrong with me ?

what ,  you think i’m not qualified ?

why did you help me ?

can you just look at me ,  please ?

what can i do to convince you ?

where did we go wrong ?

oh my god ,  are you bleeding ?

why the long face ?

are you trying to get yourself killed ?

what do you make of this ?

how much do you wanna bet ?

you’re sure this will work ?

why are you so concerned about me ?

what are you trying to prove ?

did you ever care about me ?

are you drunk ?

isn’t this amazing ?

how long have you been standing there ?

what are you suggesting ?

why are you such a pessimist ?

did you know them ?

can we call it a day ?

where did you come from ?

[cinematv]

Top 5 Favorite Shows ➞ Fishkreizler (@fishkreizler) ↳ #2 D A R K ( 2017 - 2020 )

[glowcowboy]

holding my own face in my own hands and screaming “there is no connection without an open heart! you must be brave! you must be honest! you must be true!” in the mirror

[sixsixfive]

𝟔𝟔𝟓  ...  𝑵𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑩𝑶𝑹  𝑶𝑭  𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑻  !

independent,  selective,  and  private  rendition  of  thomas  zane  of  the  remedyverse.      written  by  pj.      21+  and  mutuals  only.

[peuronoia]

@sixsixfive

“  You there,  ”  the gruff timbre rang through the night,  bouncing off the dark alley’s walls demoralised by blotches of paint spelling out words  &  symbols he,  for now,  paid little heed to.  Narrowed eyes zeroed in on the man and squinted further in a feeble attempt to sharpen the vision fogged by a headache  (  which’s source he would rather not specify out loud  ).  His arched eyebrow twitched and so did the hand hovering precariously over the holster fastened to his belt.  Dress shoes stepped ahead,  rippling the puddle at his feet as he questioned the lingering silhouette,  “  Out alone at this hour,  chum?  ”

[peuronoia]

whomst’ve wants a short thing...

[peuronoia]

rose marigold i was not familiar with your game

[peuronoia]

night springs save me... save me night springs...