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inkskinned · 4 months

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i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

#spilled ink #warm up #“why did u tag it warm up” bc i wrote it off the cuff while drinkin coffee lol #btw the 30 dollar buy in for the dog walking is bc they pay the organizer a small pittance so she can #run fb ads and stuff and like she does put in a lot of work i don't mind paying her #but that's exactly what im fucking talking about like.#ppl can't afford to volunteer their time anymore and we all understand it!!! everything costs money for everyone!#like we didn't have to use to say ''do you mind paying me back for the stuff we ate''#we used to be able to afford to feed our friends once in a while!!!

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the-hidden-writer · 1 month

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A Piece of True Fiction: Chapter 2

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 encounters Aleksi. Warnings: vomiting Words: 2,128 AO3 Link: [Here!] [First part] [Previous part] [Next part]

A Piece of True Fiction

Chapter 2: Faces

Maybe Coffee World wasn’t such a good idea.

Saga had noticed it getting darker when driving but hadn’t considered how difficult it would make her search until she’d reached the park. That, coupled with the loud downpour, is turning out to be a real pain in the ass while she’s trying to investigate.

It’s still raining. It shouldn't come as a shock to her, but it does.

With only her flashlight to provide a pretty mediocre light for her search, she does her best to find evidence, clues, or really any further indication of the cult in the northern area of the theme park. Apart from the stash she’d already found earlier, she doesn’t find anything incriminating. She does notice the presence of many Cult of the Tree symbols scattered around that she kicks herself for not noticing earlier, but there’s no direct way of tying them to Ilmo without forensic investigation. At the moment it would be circumstantial evidence at best. It could easily be the work of anyone else working at the place with creepy smiling coffee pot mascots (she absolutely despises those things).

She doesn’t come across any more Taken, but that doesn’t mean she lets her guard down. The longer she stays in this place, the more she’s reminded of her fight with Thornton and Mulligan not long ago. That alone is enough to keep her on edge.

She thoroughly searches the outskirts of the park she hadn’t checked before. No luck, no chance. She scans the gift shop again, but there’s nothing of note. Just a waste of time. At some point her brain stops focusing on the surroundings and her thoughts start to wander.

The fucking FBC had showed up and snatched the case from her perfectly capable hands. Even Casey, an experienced, adept FBI agent in his own right, had said this case was better suited to her. Steven the technician had said that the FBC monitoring station was here to look at volcanic activity and air toxicity levels, but Saga had been suspicious of that statement from the moment he’d said it. She doesn’t doesn’t know anything about the Federal Bureau of Control, other than maybe a vague memory of Casey mentioning it once, so she would have asked more questions if she hadn’t been caught up in a conversation with Ilmo.

Ilmo.

He’d been there at the time too, with the guy from the FBC. Does he know about them? What they actually do? More importantly, do they know about him and his apparent membership with the Cult of the Tree? Do they even know what that is? They were quick to arrest him back at the lodge, so they must know something, except Saga has no idea how or why they would even have that information and that frustrates her immensely.

She feels like tearing her hair out, but she takes a deep breath and forces herself to stay calm and collected. She has no hope of getting anywhere if she doesn’t keep it together. Stay focused, stay alert, stay prepared.

Out of nowhere, a sudden booming splash makes her jump.

Her heartbeat quickens. What was that? A Taken? Where did it come from? Even through the rain, it didn’t sound like it came from the Latte Lagoon behind her, but weirdly from the path leading to more attractions up ahead. It had lasted a good few seconds, sounding almost like the emptying of a giant bucket of water, audible against the rainfall.

Eyes trained at the path ahead, Saga checks that her gun is loaded (it is) before staying completely still and listening out intently. If it’s a Taken, it would soon make itself known to her.

It doesn’t. Instead, she hears more splashes, followed by a cry of pain and the sound of retching.

Holding her breath, she concentrates on her hearing even harder to make sure that she hadn’t made it up. Apparently she didn’t because the retching continues, quickly followed by more soft splashes, then violent coughing.

Her instinct is to call out ‘Hello?’ but she catches herself before it leaves her mouth. Just because it doesn’t sound like a Taken doesn’t mean it isn’t one, or that it isn’t dangerous. She can gain the upper hand if she finds it before it finds her.

Gun and flashlight primed, she slowly advances toward the source of the noise, stopping as soon as she sees movement about ten feet in front of her.

The first thing she notices is that the Huotari Well is overflowing. Water gently and steadily pours from its broken sides onto the ground below. It strikes Saga as odd, it hasn’t rained that much has it?, but it’s the least of her worries when something else catches her eye.

On the ground just a couple of feet next to the well, there’s a figure that looks like a man. He’s on his hands and knees, turned away from her, spitting and sputtering into the puddle underneath. The person is utterly soaked to the bone and a dirtied, unbuttoned white shirt clings to their lean form, revealing pasty skin underneath. He doesn't seem to notice her.

Cautiously, Saga moves her light toward him and makes her presence known.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Her voice makes the figure jump, causing him to lose grip on the slippery ground, resulting in him crashing onto his side. He flips himself over and hurries to prop himself up with his arms, finally facing her, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Or, in this case, the beam of her flashlight.

Saga gasps as she immediately recognizes the face behind the curtain of flattened, dirty blond hair.

“Casey?!”

The gun is put away in an instant and she rushes forward with an outstretched hand. “What happened?! How did-”

She stops. As she was moving forward, he was frantically scrambling backward to get away from her.

She looks on in confusion. “What..?”

He’s stopped as well, but his gaze is locked onto her. His eyes are impossibly wide and she can hear him panting shakily.

“Mitä helvettiä?”

So many questions and observations start to race through her mind. He’s wearing different clothes. He shouldn’t have been able to get here. He’s never looked this scared before.

She’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that she misses what he says when he suddenly speaks up.

“What?” She asks, guilty that she didn’t hear him the first time.

“Missä helvetissä minä olen?”

He repeats himself again between shaky breaths, louder though still raspy, and it dawns on Saga that it isn’t that she didn’t hear him, but that she doesn’t understand him.

While she’s wrapped in bewilderment, he says the same thing again and adds to it.

"Missä minä olen? Ja kuka helvetti sinä olet?"

A spike of fear stabs into Saga’s heart. Everything about this feels wrong. She remembers hearing about instances where people start speaking in another accent after a brain injury. Had Casey suffered one? Could that extend to speaking a whole new language?

Tears prick at her eyes as she tries to study him in more detail. Even after all the cases they’d worked on together, she’s never seen her partner look as distraught as this. While clearly guarded, his posture and expression exude a vulnerability and desperation that strongly reminds her of a prey animal. Like a deer. Or a lamb.

“Voi saatana”, Casey spits out, clearly cursing. He runs a hand through his damp hair. “Voi perkele.”

Is this all part of Wake’s story? She hadn’t found any manuscript pages about anything like this, but she just knows he’s to blame, playing with her partner’s life and warping his mind like he’s nothing but the character in his books. She can’t think of a single other explanation.

It’s stopped raining, she realizes, and the well’s stopped overflowing. She and Casey are at a standstill. They stay face to face, neither daring to move, both trying to gauge the other’s reaction.

Opting for a new approach, Saga wedges her flashlight under her arm and raises her hands slowly before carefully taking another step forward. Casey’s eyes follow her, wary, though he doesn’t shuffle away.

“Casey…” she says softly. “It’s me, Saga.”

There is an unimaginable ache in her heart when he shows no indication of recognizing her or her words.

He blinks up at her. "Puhut kai englantia... oletko amerikkalainen?"

Maybe it’s because they’re so close to Watery, or maybe Saga subconsciously recognizes it, but the lilt of his speech leads her to believe that he’s talking in Finnish. Which would make sense, given Watery’s history, but would also make no sense, because this is the very American Casey.

“Alex?” She tries, practically pleading, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

That seems to trigger a response, because he sits up suddenly. He then uses a hand to indicate to himself.

“Aleksi.”

She still doesn’t know what he’s saying, so she tries repeating herself. “Alex.”

He shakes his head again and clears his throat before replying. “Aleksi. Aleksi Kesä.”

Oh. His name.

It feels absurd to watch him introduce himself with a name so similar, and yet noticeably different.

“Aleksi Kesä?” She asks, doing her best to mimic his pronunciation. He nods, his movements still slow and cautious, and then in turn points toward her.

That’s the moment Saga loses all hope that he recognizes or remembers her. She feels like strangling Wake in that moment, but for what must be the hundredth time that day, the only thing she can do is play along.

She attempts a smile even though her eyes are welled up with tears and points to herself. “Saga Anderson.”

“Saga.” He copies, and it hurts so bad because even the way he says her name is different. “Oletko amerikkalainen?”

In an anguished decision to fully commit to the act of meeting a stranger, Saga crouches down in front of him in a nonthreatening manner. Up close, she can see him shivering and hear his teeth chatter. Identity crisis aside, the logical side of her brain tells her that this a cold, wet human being who needs to be warmed up before he catches hypothermia.

She forces herself into action mode, unzipping her windbreaker while keeping him talking. “I can’t understand you. Can you understand me?”

The awkward pause that follows is enough of an answer. He does speak up after a few seconds, an apologetic look on his face. He seems a little more calm now. "En osaa englantia."

Saga can make a pretty educated guess as to what that might mean based on the ‘englan’ part. Next, she pointedly takes off her coat, motioning toward his own shirt that’s hanging off his frame.

“You should take that off, I’ll give you my dry jacket.” She tells him. Even if the words don’t mean anything to him, she hopes her comforting tone will help him to trust her, so that she can help him.

Luckily, he seems to get the memo. With a slow nod he starts peeling the drenched shirt away from his skin, struggling when it tries to stick to him. She watches him to see if she can spot any sign of injury, which she thankfully doesn’t.

By the time he’s managed it, she’s already removed her FBI jacket and is holding it out to him as a peace offering.

He takes it from her, but doesn’t put it on. He just stares down at it. Then he runs his fingers along the yellow lettering.

“Saga,” he says, “FBI?”

She nods at him, a little confused. For a moment he looks even more bewildered.

"Ihan niinkuin jossain jenkkileffassa…" he mumbles. Then a dawning look of realization.

He pointedly places a hand onto his chest.

“FBI-” he looks almost hopeful- “mutta sain potkut.”

“Yes! FBI!” She nods again, this time more eagerly. She feels very relieved at the fact that he seems to remember he’s an FBI agent at least.

“You should put that on.” She continues, gesturing along with the words so he can understand. “Sorry if it’s a little small.”

He gratefully dons the jacket. As expected, the sleeves are short, but it covers enough of him for Saga to be satisfied with her temporary fix. It’s better than nothing before she’s able to think of a better solution.

“Kiitos.” A short pause. “Um… thank you.”

Casey- no, Kesä takes a moment to adjust. His teeth still chatter and his shivers don’t stop, but gradually his breathing evens out. He starts to look around at their surroundings, with various emotions in his expression.

Confusion. Relief. Awe.

As he turns his head, looking so unlike her partner and best friend, Saga finally lets the tears fall.

Finnish translations (now updated and accurate!):

“Mitä helvettiä?” = "What the hell?"

“Missä helvetissä minä olen?” = "Where the hell am I?"

"Missä minä olen? Ja kuka helvetti sinä olet?" = "Where am I? And who the hell are you?"

"Puhut kai englantia... oletko amerikkalainen?" = "I suppose you speak English... are you American?"

"En osaa englantia." = "I don't know English."

"Ihan niinkuin jossain jenkkileffassa…" = "Like straight out of some American film."

"Mutta sain potkut." = "But I was fired."

"Kiitos." = "Thank you." Thanks for reading!

#alan wake 2 #alan wake #alan wake 2 spoilers #cw vomit #saga anderson #alex casey #aleksi kesä #ilmo koskela #a piece of true fiction #fanfic

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